My Naughty Minette (Properly Spanked 3)

Esme shook her head. “You’re a mess of seething, unsatisfied hungers, I see. Come lie on the bed. Take your shirt off and I’ll massage you for a while to put you in a better temper before I send you home.” She helped him undo his buttons in an irritatingly businesslike way. “Have you been releasing your masculine urges with adequate regularity?”

“Stroking myself, you mean?”

“Yes, to disperse some of this tension.”

“Is that what you recommend?” he said with biting sarcasm. Yes, he’d been stroking himself quite a bit, and was likely to continue doing so, now that Esme wouldn’t see him again. He could always go to Pearl’s, but he didn’t enjoy those women as much. With his father’s illness, he’d developed a healthy fear of the pox, and a desire for some measure of exclusivity in his partners. He trusted Esme. Her fingers traced over his skin, kneading and soothing tense muscles.

“You ought to let Minette do this,” she said. “Let her massage you and explore your body. I think she would enjoy it.”

He groaned into the bed pillows.

“I don’t understand the difficulty,” Esme sighed. “If you can’t be passionate with your wife—”

“She’s not just my wife. She’s my best friend’s sister. She pricked her finger last night, and do you know what I did? I kissed it, because that’s the sort of thing I did when she was eight years old, and I was a callow young lad who thought her the most precious thing.”

“That’s a sweet story.” Esme laughed.

“Why do you think I can’t—” He groaned again. “I can’t bed her, Esme. I can’t. I don’t want to do those sorts of things to her.”

“What things? The things that have brought me such exquisite pleasure over the years? The things that will bring your wife pleasure, that she is eager and willing to learn? Here. Sit up and look at me.”

He obeyed in a sullen fashion, hunching over when she took his shoulders in her hands.

“Listen to me, my dear, gruff Lord Augustine. I’m going to miss you horribly, probably more than I’ve missed any other lover I’ve lost. But I have great hopes for you and your lady. It’s entirely possible to kiss her finger better, and then overtake her in your ardent manner of unbridled lust. You don’t believe so now, but you will come to think differently, and when you do, you must give yourself permission to act on both sorts of feelings. I promise your wife won’t mind.”

“I’ve known Minette for years,” he said in irritation. “You spoke with her for how long?”

“Less than an hour, but I’m a woman, and I know love when I see it. I warrant I know it better than you.”

August wasn’t sure this was true. Maybe. Well, probably.

“Lie down again,” she said. “You’re crotchety as a three-legged cat these days.”

“With good reason. My ladybird’s just told me not to come back.”

She dug hard into the tense knots of his shoulders. “Your ladybird wants you to be happy. Do you think I’m not every bit as put out as you? Blame your Lady Augustine. If she hadn’t come here and bared her heart, you and I might have kept on as we were before.”

“I’ll pay twice what I paid in the past, if you’ll keep seeing me.”

“No.” Esme kneaded a hand up his spine, the heartless vixen. “It’s over, dear August. You’re not to darken my door again.”

*** *** ***

August didn’t dare return to Barrymore House—and Minette—in his current mood. So Esme had cut him off, had she? And it was entirely his wife’s fault.

By God, he’d like to spank Minette until she couldn’t sit down. Perhaps he would, next time he saw her, which was another reason not to return right away. Husbands shouldn’t spank wives. Wasn’t that what she’d yelled at him in one of her tempers? It was awfully hard not to take out his frustrations on her bottom when she was ruining every aspect of his life.

He considered going to the gentlemen’s club, but when he was there everyone always asked after his father. Worse, Colton might be there, scowling at August and muttering words of condemnation in any available ear. He went instead to Townsend’s, and found his friend at home. The butler led him to the grand parlor, a study in marble and damask with a roaring fire. As soon as he was announced, Townsend strode over to greet him at the door. “August, how wonderful to see you. Is everything all right, man? You look put out.”

August stifled a sigh. “Remember when Lansing cut you off from all your women? After you married Aurelia? I’ve just been to see Esme—”

“I should have told you,” Townsend interrupted. “Warren and Arlington are here too.”

His friend—ex-friend?—Warren shot to his feet on the other side of the room. “You went to see Esmeralda?” he asked.

“To return the books,” August said quickly. “And to ask her not to meet again with Minette.”

“Esmeralda met with Minette?” The Duke of Arlington’s brows rose as he stretched out his long legs. “I’ve got to hear this story.”

“Minette is here too, by the way,” Townsend said. “She came with Warren and Josephine. The ladies are sitting by the fire in the library, talking about babies and nurseries, I suppose. Shall I send for them?”

“No,” said the other three gentlemen. August scowled at Warren while Arlington asked again about Esme and Minette.

“Are the two of them fighting over you?” jested the golden-haired duke. Easy for him to joke, when he was the only one still unfettered by the bonds of matrimony.

August flung himself in a chair, feeling supremely out of sorts. “They’re not fighting over me. If you must know, Esme has cut me off indefinitely.”

“Good,” Warren said.

“But how did Esme make Minette’s acquaintance?” asked Arlington.

“She didn’t,” August said. “Minette went in secret to see Esme because she’d overheard someone, probably one of you, talking about our relationship over the years. She went to Esme to ask for...marital advice.”

Townsend stifled a laugh. “And Esme gave her books?”

“Which were delivered to my neighbor’s house in error,” said August. “The garishly illustrated volumes were very nearly pas

sed along to his youngest daughter. Needless to say, the man was not pleased.”

Arlington and Townsend looked half amused, half horrified. Warren looked irate. “I don’t care how Minette found out about you and Esme,” he said. “I don’t want her over there, and I don’t want you over there either. You have to give her up.”

“I don’t have a choice,” August retorted. “As I just said, Esme’s given me up, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You married my sister. It’s my business.”

“Gentlemen,” Townsend stepped between them and gestured for calm. “Let’s not growl at each other. August, will you have a drink? Tell us, how is married life treating you? How are things at Barrymore House? Your father?”

“No change,” August said shortly. He accepted a drink from Townsend.

“That’s a shame,” said Arlington. “None of the treatments have worked?”

“No. He suffers now from terrible disfigurements, great pains, and feral madness. When he escapes his keepers, he stumbles about the house, groaning like an animal. My mother can’t bear to look on him, he is so grotesque.” It was probably more than they wanted to know, more than anyone would ever want to know, but he could only confide such things to them, and so the words spilled out with a sort of relief.

“A sanitorium, perhaps?” said Townsend.

“It’s too late for that. It’s...too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Arlington said, a sentiment echoed by Warren and Townsend.

“And Minette doesn’t know what to think,” said August. “She doesn’t understand. I’m sorry, Warren, but she’s such an innocent.”

“She was an innocent,” Warren replied.

Arlington frowned at the blond earl. “They’re married, Warren. You must come to accept it. Will you hold it against August his entire life?”

“Yes, if he makes her miserable, and continues to consort with courtesans.”

“I was returning the books,” August said through his teeth. “I didn’t go with any intention of sleeping with her. For God’s sake, it was three in the afternoon.” Lies. He was lying. He’d desperately wanted to sleep with Esme, although he couldn’t have managed it to save his life. It was Minette who haunted his dreams, Minette who fired his fantasies. It was Minette who felt smooth and voluptuous and perfect in his arms. “I am not making your sister miserable, either. You and Josephine weren’t blissfully happy at the start, were you?”