her bed.
Not that he was going to tell her that.
Alexander humbly inclined his head to her. “Do try and behave yourself. It was a pleasure .”
“You’ve proven to be quite entertaining, Lord Hawksford.” She smiled, then graciously extended her bare ivory hand toward him. “As such, I’ll give you this one last pleasure at no cost to you at all. Go on. You may kiss it.”
The saucy little wench! He had absolutely no intention of accepting anything less than a full kiss from her lips. And eventually, he intended to collect more. Much more. Without a single bit of resistance.
He gave her a withering look of disinterest. “In all honesty, I prefer the entire soufflé.”
She lowered her hand and returned his withering look. “I knew you were a glutton. Inform Lord Caldwell that I am ready to receive him. Good day and good-bye.”
With that, she returned to her desk, leaving him with the stark realization that his taste for pleasure had not disappeared from his blood at all. Despite all of his efforts to appear proper for the sake of his family, his old self was about to reemerge in the name of the greatest conquest he had ever embarked upon.
He only hoped to God he could keep this from his family or he’d never hear the end of it. Then again, Lady Charlotte was well worth that risk. Which is why he intended to not only seize this tasty little challenge, but to do so with both hands. Not to mention the rest of his body.
Lesson Seven
While you fret and fuss over how to prepare for pleasure, simply remember, that the sole point of every sexual encounter is to measure, measure, measure .
— The School of Gallantry
11 Berwick Street
Two days later
Charlotte held up Lord Hawksford’s completed application and faced Madame de Maitenon once again in complete exasperation. “This is ridiculous, Madame! Considering all the men that have applied to this school, and the amount of men you are limiting us to during the first Season, why would you even bother accepting his application? The man isn’t looking for an education. He’s looking for entertainment.”
Madame de Maitenon observed her from across the Greek-inspired parlor, remaining stoically seated upon the only piece of furniture to grace the room. “I agree that his aspirations could be somewhat corrupt, but it is imperative we involve him in the school for reasons I cannot go into. What is more, I know this young man. I once had the honor—and I do mean that—of pleasuring his father.” She eyed her. “ And his mother. Though I ask that you keep that to yourself and not tell Maybelle or anyone else.” She winked mischievously and lowered her voice. “I was supposed to be in retirement, but the money was simply too good.”
Stunned, Charlotte felt her cheeks flare. And she’d thought the woman was incapable of further astounding her. No wonder Lord Hawksford was naughty by nature! He’d inherited it from his parents.
What was worse, if Madame de Maitenon accepted the man’s application, it was going to complicate every single aspect of her life. A harmonious, peaceful life which she’d just started to enjoy.
For Alexander William Baxendale, the third Earl of Hawksford, who had obviously bedded nearly every woman in London—if not all—would come marching straight into the school looking to collect an endless array of self-loving pleasures. She certainly recognized the devious fire that lit his eyes. He would only stop once he had been sated. And what was even more terrible was that she wanted to submit to that devious fire. As if Chartwell hadn’t been enough of a lesson for her.
Beyond frustrated, Charlotte tossed the application and let it float and whirl off to the side, toward the feet of one of her Greek male statues. “I see. You pleasured the father and the mother and now you wish to pleasure the son? Is that it?”
Madame de Maitenon let out an unbridled laugh, throwing back her head as if to let it flow out all the better.
Not that he was going to tell her that.
Alexander humbly inclined his head to her. “Do try and behave yourself. It was a pleasure .”
“You’ve proven to be quite entertaining, Lord Hawksford.” She smiled, then graciously extended her bare ivory hand toward him. “As such, I’ll give you this one last pleasure at no cost to you at all. Go on. You may kiss it.”
The saucy little wench! He had absolutely no intention of accepting anything less than a full kiss from her lips. And eventually, he intended to collect more. Much more. Without a single bit of resistance.
He gave her a withering look of disinterest. “In all honesty, I prefer the entire soufflé.”
She lowered her hand and returned his withering look. “I knew you were a glutton. Inform Lord Caldwell that I am ready to receive him. Good day and good-bye.”
With that, she returned to her desk, leaving him with the stark realization that his taste for pleasure had not disappeared from his blood at all. Despite all of his efforts to appear proper for the sake of his family, his old self was about to reemerge in the name of the greatest conquest he had ever embarked upon.
He only hoped to God he could keep this from his family or he’d never hear the end of it. Then again, Lady Charlotte was well worth that risk. Which is why he intended to not only seize this tasty little challenge, but to do so with both hands. Not to mention the rest of his body.
Lesson Seven
While you fret and fuss over how to prepare for pleasure, simply remember, that the sole point of every sexual encounter is to measure, measure, measure .
— The School of Gallantry
11 Berwick Street
Two days later
Charlotte held up Lord Hawksford’s completed application and faced Madame de Maitenon once again in complete exasperation. “This is ridiculous, Madame! Considering all the men that have applied to this school, and the amount of men you are limiting us to during the first Season, why would you even bother accepting his application? The man isn’t looking for an education. He’s looking for entertainment.”
Madame de Maitenon observed her from across the Greek-inspired parlor, remaining stoically seated upon the only piece of furniture to grace the room. “I agree that his aspirations could be somewhat corrupt, but it is imperative we involve him in the school for reasons I cannot go into. What is more, I know this young man. I once had the honor—and I do mean that—of pleasuring his father.” She eyed her. “ And his mother. Though I ask that you keep that to yourself and not tell Maybelle or anyone else.” She winked mischievously and lowered her voice. “I was supposed to be in retirement, but the money was simply too good.”
Stunned, Charlotte felt her cheeks flare. And she’d thought the woman was incapable of further astounding her. No wonder Lord Hawksford was naughty by nature! He’d inherited it from his parents.
What was worse, if Madame de Maitenon accepted the man’s application, it was going to complicate every single aspect of her life. A harmonious, peaceful life which she’d just started to enjoy.
For Alexander William Baxendale, the third Earl of Hawksford, who had obviously bedded nearly every woman in London—if not all—would come marching straight into the school looking to collect an endless array of self-loving pleasures. She certainly recognized the devious fire that lit his eyes. He would only stop once he had been sated. And what was even more terrible was that she wanted to submit to that devious fire. As if Chartwell hadn’t been enough of a lesson for her.
Beyond frustrated, Charlotte tossed the application and let it float and whirl off to the side, toward the feet of one of her Greek male statues. “I see. You pleasured the father and the mother and now you wish to pleasure the son? Is that it?”
Madame de Maitenon let out an unbridled laugh, throwing back her head as if to let it flow out all the better.
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