to do is with your father."
"Your Grace, I swear to you, this was not my intention."
"I don't believe you nor shall I ever believe you. However, the point is moot, is it
not? There is nothing for it but to make this right, before your reputation is completely
ruined. I just wish now, that I had done something truly dastardly to deserve having to
spend a lifetime with your mama as a connection."
Felicity began to cry, he noted; her first sign of weakness in his presence. "She
means well."
"She means to have a duke as a son-in-law, and now, she shall have one. Come,
before I change my mind and seek refuge in Italy until the gossips go on to the next
great
on dit
."
Felicity continued to stand fast for several minutes.
"You can't do this, Your Grace."
"I have no choice."
"You do." She struggled against his hold. "I will deny it was me should anyone
say anything. My parents think I am with my friend. Once I tell her what's happened,
she will not betray me. I can go to her now, and no one will be the wiser."
"You're a child if you think that. Come."
He kept a tight hold on her wrist.
Lord, how did this get so out of hand
?
They located Lord and Lady Plimmswood, who were engaged with a small
group of people. Phillip and Lady Felicity had succeeded in calming themselves before
their approach. Phillip stepped up to Lord Plimmswood and whispered something,
drawing the man's attention.
"Excuse me, but I'm needed." He took his wife by the hand and together the four
of them sought out the nearest empty room.
Once the ladies were settled, Thornhill came to the point. "Lord Plimmswood, I
wish to offer for your daughter."
Lady Plimmswood began sputtering and tapping her daughter's hands. "Oh, my
darling, this is wonderful news."
Phillip attempted to ignore the lone tear that streaked down Felicity's porcelain
cheek.
"Well, Your Grace, I'm honored that you would find our Felicity to be worthy of
your consideration to take to wife. She is a fine girl, indeed."
"I wish to accomplish this as soon as possible, if you don't mind. I will procure a
special license and shall we say, three days hence, the ceremony will be performed at a
venue of your choosing?"
Lord Plimmswood gave his wife a deferential look. The lady bobbed her head up
and down in agreement with her future son-in-law. "Yes, we will have the ceremony at
our home, but I had so wished to see her married at St. George's."
"That is quite impossible, madam." He didn't want a display. It was bad enough
to be forced to marry; he wasn't about to celebrate the fact before all of London society.
"Very well, Your Grace, we shall have the wedding in three days." The woman
turned to Felicity. "He must love you very much to be in such a hurry to say his vows."
Felicity burst into tears.
Phillip remained unmoved by the emotional display. "I will have my solicitor
contact you with the settlement papers. I bid you good evening."
He bowed and walked out of the room without a word to Felicity. He feared his
anger would overset his tongue. There would be plenty of time to harangue her for the
behavior that had trapped them both in a marriage neither wanted.
Decisions needed to be made and his head was a muddle. He made his way to
his carriage, still parked under the copse of trees, where he'd thought naively it would
be unseen—they would be unseen.
"St. John's Wood!" His bellow rent the quiet night air.
As the monotonous clacking of the wheels over the cobbles lulled him into a
painful reverie, his anger grew dark. If murder were in his nature, Lady Evelina
Townsend would be dead at this moment. He'd underestimated her ability for revenge.
There had been a time when he fancied himself in love with her, given her sexual
tastes were aligned with his own. Pragmatic to his core, he'd never expressed his
deepest feelings. After all, men simply didn't love their mistresses; why, that would be
the complete antithesis of the purpose of a mistress. However, he'd sought an end to
their arrangement for almost a year. She'd gotten too attached, expected him to forsake
his need for men, which would never happen. Finally, he purchased a very expensive
emerald necklace, bracelet, and earring set and unceremoniously gave it to her after a
particularly satisfying fuck.
She'd seemed happy enough with the gift, but had promptly thrown him out
when he made the purpose of the gems plain. He'd assumed she would calm and see
their end as inevitable. How foolish he'd been, and that foolishness would cost him his
life, for at that moment he felt he'd given up everything.
Chapter Four
Many hours passed before Felicity was allowed to seek the comfort of her
bedchamber. Her mother and father congratulated her on her success in capturing the
Duke of Thornhill's attention. Her mother would be dragging her off to Madame
Devalcourt's in the morning, as a proper trousseau needed to be sewn immediately.
"We will pay whatever it costs," her father had said, for three days was surely not
enough time to make all her mother intended to purchase, not without properly
greasing the necessary palms.
She was attracted to the duke, undoubtedly, but she hadn't been afforded the
time to decide whether or not she wished to be married to him. Now, the decision was
completely out of her hands. Her impetuosity once again had landed her in trouble. Her
future husband was furious with her. If she were honest with herself, she couldn't
blame him.
She'd been quite forward, trying to imitate what she'd observed at school some
time ago. She sensed
Phillip
was a man of great sexual needs, though she had nothing
more to go on than the bulge in his trousers he'd so cleverly tried to hide from her. She
tried to imagine him in the throes of passion, but even with the knowledge she had, she
could get no further than the one kiss they'd shared. He seemed so staid and she
wondered what she could do to make him cast all to the wind and make love to her
with abandon.
His lips had been hard at first, but slowly they'd softened, until the kiss felt as
though he would swallow her whole. She'd wanted him to, truthfully. He was
everything she imagined her first lover to be, a bit rougher than the boys who
constantly tried to feel her breasts when they got her alone at balls. They groped with
such hesitancy she was certain they'd never before seen a woman's breast. Men liked to
touch breasts and kiss them; she'd seen that first hand when Agnes Dye and her swain
had stripped naked and engaged in the acts she foresaw herself doing with the Duke of
Thornhill.
Her quim clenched at the very thought. She wished she knew more about how to
please him. Most women must wonder what it was men liked so much about a
woman's body. She felt like such a school girl. She'd be expected to submit her body to
her new husband in three days time, and she hadn't a clue what to do. Agnes had much
more experience. Though Felicity knew the goal, getting there was what she needed to
learn.
The kernel of an idea began to form in her head, one sure to lead to even more
trouble, but she didn't care. She'd gotten them into this mess; the least she could do was
sexually satisfy her husband.
Her body tingled at the thought of implementing her plan. Only one place
existed she could think of to get the answers she needed
—the Sapphire Club.
* * * * *
Phillip arrived at the club at just past midnight. The night had been interminable,
making the time seem later than it actually was. Hampton, the club's butler, took
Phillip's hat in his usual polite manner.
"Is Damrill in?" he asked as he walked in the direction of the library.
"He is, Your Grace, shall I announce you?"
"No, I'll do that myself."
The click of his heels rang in the marbled entrance hall as he made his way to the
giant double doors. Without a knock, he flung them open to see Lucien Damrill sitting
behind his desk, chatting with Prentice Hyde, Marquess of Wycroft.
Lucien smiled. "Please, come in, Thornhill. Would you care for a brandy?"
"If it is that fine French you usually have."
Lucien nodded at the footman standing unobtrusively to the side. He presented a
snifter with quiet efficiency, something Phillip appreciated.
"You seem agitated, Thornhill?"
Phillip was agitated and made no effort to disguise the fact. "As you must have
been, upon discovering your long-lost wife had returned to your doorstep."
"I certainly was, but all has worked out well. What has you so on edge?"
Phillip related the entire story to his two friends, holding nothing back. At this
moment, the gossip mills undoubtedly churned with the unfortunate news of his
precipitous removal from the lists of marriageable titles.
"She is certainly getting the most
charming
of all England's lords." Wycroft said,
his voice conveying his usual teasing manner.
Indeed, the Duke of Thornhill had been greatly deprived of charm at birth,
though he had more than his fair share of good looks and money. Even he recognized
his shortcomings and dismissed the knowledge as unimportant. "Yes, well, she'll get
what she gets. She's brought this about with her foolishness. I've never wanted to be
married, you know that."
He allowed his rage to surface, for in the company of these two men, he felt at
home. In the years of the Sapphire Club's existence, their sexual escapades had been
renowned amongst the members. He needed to share his fury, and share it with others
who would understand.
"Are you here for some activity, Your Grace?" Lucien asked.
"Yes, and if I ever needed it, it would be now. Is Haynes around?"
"Yes, I believe he is. You go on to the room, and I will inform him of your
arrival."
Phillip swallowed the last of his brandy and stalked out of the room. He went to
the second floor, walked down the red carpeted hallway, passed the erotic drawings
and paintings adorning the walls. He'd passed these same pieces hundreds of times,
and they'd never failed to titillate him. There was no illusion this establishment was
anything but a wonderfully operated sex club, full of consenting adults, whose only
purpose was to play sexual games.
Tonight, he would receive a thrashing, followed by the fuck he'd intended to
pursue when the night began. The Sapphire Club had become important to the Quality,
a place they could go and play out their sexual fantasies with no one the wiser.
Certainly, some of the upper ten thousand appeared appalled by day with the club's
goings on, but by night, they bared their asses and did exactly as he intended to do.
For Phillip Allard, having his backside lashed was as important as breathing or
as his position in Parliament. He'd never been able to explain why to himself and
certainly would attempt no such thing with anyone else. His consequence allowed him
wide berth. His sexual peculiarities were, frankly, none of anyone's business.
Of late, he'd engaged the services of a young man, Haynes. Previously, Evelina
had done the honors, and he'd gladly reciprocated, spanking her errant bottom raw, but
with their parting of ways, he'd been left with no partner.
All must be consensual at the club. He'd taken a fancy to Haynes, a young man
who at one time had served as a footman. Haynes had been given greater opportunities
when he began to take on his own clients.
As always, Phillip chose a room that accommodated the more depraved activities
at the club. He'd been a devotee of thrashings, whippings, and the occasional lighter
spankings since his years at Eton. He was sure his buttocks were calloused, and yet he
insisted on painful thrashings.
The room held a contraption resembling a ladder, to which the duke could be
tied, his legs spread wide and secured in that position. He'd endured many a whipping
thusly trussed and would again tonight.
Haynes entered the room after a quick knock. "Good evening, Your Grace."
"Good evening." He winced inwardly as he realized his clipped tone.
Haynes, who appeared to hold no judgment toward him, made Phillip
comfortable. Though the intimate nature of their arrangement had made Phillip face
something about himself: a sense of shame. As much as he loved the act of fucking a
woman, he was equally enamored with men, something upon which he and Haynes
were in complete accord.
Haynes, a man of seven and twenty, was younger than Phillip by some thirteen
years, though that difference had never mattered. Haynes had never refused him
anything, and had delivered on his end of the bargain. Haynes's wrist was sure, his
attitude resolved, making his sessions quite satisfying indeed. And the fucking . . . oh
my God . . . some of the best sex Phillip had ever enjoyed.
"What shall it be tonight, Your Grace?"
Pain.
Phillip eyed Haynes. "I wish for you to make that decision. I only ask it be
harsh. Do you understand?"
"I believe I do. Get out of those clothes." In the blink of an eye, Haynes's
demeanor changed and he took control.
Phillip's heart raced.