Wedding Violet (Fair Cyprians of London 4)

Chapter 1

“Gad’s teeth, that was the best tupping I’ve ever paid for, my lovely Victoria!” Lord Belvedere regarded Violet with satisfaction as he reclined in all his youthful glory upon the pink satin counterpane of the iron four-poster.

“It’s Violet, actually,” Violet said, pulling the bedsheets up to her chest as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Through the thin walls of Madame Chambon’s infamous house of assignation sounded the thumps and cries of the night’s trade. Strange that this had become normal to her now, she thought as she began to untangle her long dark hair with her fingers. Strange, too, the way she’d experienced real excitement from the moment the young nobleman had gazed into her eyes before kissing her. And then doing all those other things that constituted bedroom sport.

“Actually, it’s the first tupping I have ever paid for—and worth every penny, my exquisite Violet.” Belvedere grinned as he met her look, then reached forward to draw her back down beside him. “Where did you learn those tricks?”

“I could ask you the same, my Lord,” Violet replied, gently disengaging herself from his embrace so she could return to her task of ordering herself. For once, it was more than lip service. It was the best tupping of this strange, sordid year.

It was also the first time she’d felt regret at cutting short a business encounter; something she’d have to do if she wasn’t to anger her most reliable and high-paying customer, Lord Bainbridge. He’d probably be pacing the length of the drawing room downstairs like a caged tiger by now.

With an extremely satisfied sigh, Lord Belvedere put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “And I would answer that pleasing a woman has always been a favourite pursuit of mine. He continued to regard Violet with appreciation. “Now, surely I can persuade you to finish our delightful encounter with less unseemly haste. Let’s order a bottle of champagne and bring out the draughts board, shall we?”

Violet flicked a quick glance at him as she leaned over to roll on one of the fine, white stockings she’d hung over the iron bed end. He really was rather a delicious specimen with his soulful caramel eyes. And that beautifully curved mouth was as accomplished at kissing as it was issuing quips that made her laugh. This last hour they’d done all that and more as they’d rolled about on the counterpane in Violet’s attic room, with its view of St Paul’s being its most redeeming feature. There weren’t many other redeeming features at Madame Chambon’s.

Lord Belvedere looked in no hurry to leave. He stretched languidly, and Violet tried to hide her interest in assessing his unashamedly naked form. She’d never felt anything, other than revulsion, for any of the men she entertained in order to keep a roof over her head. Until now.

“Yes, champagne and draughts is just the thing, I say!” He sat up, clicking his fingers as he joined her on the edge of the bed, their naked thighs touching before Violet pulled her chemise over her head.

“I’m afraid no one is going to come running at your summons, my Lord.” With a dampening smile, she turned and presented him with her back, holding up the long laces of her corset in a clear implication that she needed his help. “Regrettably, our time together is at an end, and I’d appreciate it if you helped make me decent. I presume you have done this before?”

“Naturally.” But instead of the tug of laces, she felt his arms go over her shoulders to fondle her breasts while he pulled her against him and nuzzled her ear. She could feel the swell of his erection against her behind while the whisper of his breath against her ear stirred her insides into an unexpected state of anticipation.

The acknowledgement of this sensation of physical enjoyment was troubling.

“Nevertheless, I have no intention of leaving before we’ve ended matters in a civilised fashion.” He kissed her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I realise there are men who consider it civilised, or within their rights, to pay an unseemly amount for sex and then leave the moment they come.” He smiled pleasantly at her as he stroked her cheek. “I, however, am a gentleman, and I like to reward good value. You, my dear Violet, have given excellent value.”

Violet blinked, surprised at the pang of regret she felt at his impending departure until she remembered how important the no doubt hideously impatient Lord Bainbridge was to her long-term goal of escaping Madame Chambon’s house of assignation. Or bordello, nunnery, brothel, or whatever term it went by in the lexicon of the gentlemen who crossed its threshold in pursuit of London’s most sought-after companions. Ladies of the night. Lightskirts. Fair Cyprians. She’d been called many things, but she rather liked the way ‘my fair Violet’ rolled off young Lord Belvedere’s tongue. Just as she’d liked what young Lord Belvedere’s tongue had done to her in a myriad of other unexpectedly erotic ways this evening.

“Madame Chambon will be most pleased,” Violet murmured, extricating herself from his grasp.

“I have no interest in pleasing Madame Chambon.”

It seemed Lord Belvedere was not going to be easily persuaded to leave. He cupped Violet’s chin, turning her head slightly so that she was forced to look at him. “If I’m cutting into the time of your next highly anticipated customer, then perhaps Madame Chambon will be pleased if I double your rate just so we can drink champagne and play draughts together for half an hour. I trust you can play draughts? It’s hardly a complicated game.”

Violet considered him. She made no secret of it as her eyes roamed the length of him: his long, muscled thighs lightly dusted with the dark hair from which his manhood sprouted; further up, his well-delineated chest with its delicate nipples suggesting the first possibility of vulnerability. His mouth was the second. And it really was a lovely mouth, his lips soft though his jaw determined; as determined as his eyes as he stared back at her.

He indicated the bell that sat on her side table. “Surely you need only to ring that and a servant will come running to do our bidding?”

It was true. If Violet were creative enough, her next customer would be given the necessary excuse that would see him offered any of the other exceptional young women for whom Madame Chambon’s establishment was renowned.

“Unless you would, in fact, prefer to be entertained by your next customer rather than drink champagne with me?” His voice was lower by several notches. Caramel and persuasive. Like his eyes.

No, Violet had no desire to entertain Lord Bainbridge but nor did she want to anger him. Lord Bainbridge was well on the way to making her that offer of exclusivity which every girl at Madame’s craved.

She licked her lips as she stared back at his lordship. She’d happily drink champagne with him. Heavens! She’d happily roll about on the bed with him for another session, which was unheard of.

Violet contemplated her options. Perhaps denying Lord Bainbridge tonight might be just the ticket for hustling him along the road to setting her up in her own little ladybird’s lair so Violet could shed this hated life and plan her next elevation.

Without a word, she pick

ed up the little bell and sent the message for which his lordship was so eager. Champagne and a board game. What a perfectly delightful way to end an evening.

“Clever move, lovely Violet. You’re as inspiring on the draughts board as you are in bed.”

Predictably, they were once again back on the coverlet, Lord Belvedere stark naked, Violet in only a peignoir, but he’d been true to his expressed desires. It seemed he really did want to end their session with some rivalry on the draughts board and some lively conversation rather than once again demonstrating his prowess as a lover.

Violet watched his lordship toss back his champagne. His cheeks were flushed and there was an air of excitement about him, or suppressed emotion, that she’d not noticed before.

With a gusty sigh, he set down his glass and sent Violet a long and level look as he leant back against the pillows. “Definitely a moment to celebrate. A lucky escape, if ever there was one.”

Violet shook her head when he reached for the bottle on the bedside drawers and tried to top up her glass. “And what have you escaped, my Lord? A marauding tiger? The firing squad?” She tried to sound relaxed as she ran her forefinger over the smooth surface of the white piece she was waiting to move once it was her turn. She could see an opportunity that she suspected he’d missed.

“Not quite, though, either way, my fate would have been equally unhappy.” Lord Belvedere leaned over, picked up his black, and neatly moved to take three of her pieces. “You thought I’d missed that, my love. But I’m not so stupid. Nor are you, for that matter.” Then, in a more robust tone, “I was to have been married tonight. Can you believe it, but three hours ago I was all dressed up and standing at the altar in my very finest.”

“You were to have been…married?” Violet felt her first flush of panic for the evening as she tried to discern if the beautiful…naked…man before her was in earnest.

If he was, then—what had she done?

Sensing her discomfort, he patted her wrist. “I waited at the altar for more than an hour for the wretched female.” For the first time this evening he looked grim. “Lord, I certainly had everyone’s sympathy by the time we all realised the game was over.”