“I sh
all get out here.”
“Are you certain, Your Grace?”
“Yes, I am.” Will had one thing on his mind: getting Elizabeth out of his head once and for all. A tumble with a prostitute might be just the thing to do it.
He clamored onto the street and glanced around for the right house. After finding it, he walked toward the home with all the candles blazing from the interior rooms. He opened the door and the sweet aroma of women enveloped him. A few of the women stared at him. Several gentlemen inclined their heads in greeting but didn’t say a thing. And why would they? Most of them were here when they could be spending the evening with their wives.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” a soft, feminine voice sounded from behind him.
Will turned around to see Lady Whitely smiling at him. “Good evening.”
“Is there something I can assist you with?” She took his arm and led him back to the room where he and Somerton had had drinks. “Sit here and I shall bring you some whisky. That is your drink, is it not?”
“Yes.”
She walked to the bar, whispered something in a footman’s ear, and then quickly returned a moment later with a bottle and one glass. After pouring it to the rim, she carefully handed it to him.
“So tell me, Your Grace,” she purred. “Do you know how this works?”
Will sipped his whisky and then laughed coarsely. “I believe I do.”
Lady Whitely smiled at him. “No. How this establishment works.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Will leaned back and downed the rest of his whisky.
She refilled his glass and said, “The first time you enter my establishment and desire to be with one of my girls, I help you decide which girl is right for you.”
“Any of them will do,” he said. The whisky tasted far too good tonight.
“We do not work that way. You tell me everything you want in a woman, and I do my best to fulfill your fantasy. So tell me, what do you like in a woman?”
Will shut his eyes and imagined Elizabeth. “Red hair and green eyes. Taller than average but not a giant. Slim figure and perfectly rounded breasts with rosy nipples.”
He blinked his eyes open. Had he said that aloud?
“Hmm,” Lady Whitely said. “I only have one redhead, and honestly, I do not know her eye color. It might be blue. Is that a problem?”
Damn, he had described Elizabeth. He gulped his second glass of whisky down fast. “No, it’s not a problem.”
“Do you like your women submissive? Domineering? Or maybe playful is your desire.”
“Whatever you feel is best for me,” Will replied, wanting this process to be over. He just wanted to thrust inside a pretty woman and get Elizabeth out of his head.
“All right, if you do decide submissive is your preferred way, there are ties attached to all the beds.”
“Wonderful,” Will remarked.
“Very well, then. I shall check to see if she is occupied yet.” Lady Whitely rose and gracefully walked out of the room.
Will glanced around the garish room and wondered what the other men in the place were doing here. He chuckled softly. He knew exactly why they were here. The same reason he was—to forget someone.
He poured another glass of whisky, hoping the alcohol would numb his mind and heart to the ache he felt. Forgetting Elizabeth was the only option. She had lied to him, manipulated him, and never loved him. Everything she had done had only been for herself.
Or had it?
She had attempted to flirt with him in order to stay in the house, but he’d seen right through her. He’d known what she was doing and never stopped her. She also insisted his sisters have a Season, something he never would have allowed. She hadn’t used her wiles to get him to agree. She used logic. And she had been right that in order for them to be accepted, they needed to make their bow and join in the festivities.