The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(76)

“An astonishing lot, but I’ve had the costume almost a year. I had it made for a practical joke I played upon Wrotham, last Season. He’s a stick, you know, and because he can’t allow himself to enter into sexual congress with a lady, he became quite desperate and decided to frequent a brothel. He made careful enquiries as to which might be most discreet, where he might go for an evening’s entertainment and not be seen by anyone. Sticks can be like that, very hypocritical. Anyway, I, Mrs. Sherry, an avenging angel of morality and prudence, chose just that night, and just that brothel to crusade for the souls of the damned in the depraved fleshpots of London. Naturally, I happened to open the door of Wrotham’s lady’s chamber first and expressed my dismay at who was within, an earl, for heaven’s sake, a pillar of London, surely, who had fallen so low, and how shameful it was.”

He had her laughing again. “Did Wrotham faint?”

“On the contrary. He cast aside his woman and suggested he and I remove to an empty chamber, where we might discuss the matter in a more intimate fashion.”

She stood and stared at him, slack-jawed, then at last said, “He propositioned you? An avenging angel?”

“It was the bosom, I’m certain. Some men would simply have to see the bosom without cover, for it is spectacular.”

“But you’re a matron!”

“True, but breasts are breasts, and very enormous ones are irresistible to some men. Wrotham was disappointed when I declined, and he didn’t speak to me for a solid month after I removed the turban and revealed my identity. He eventually came round and forgave me and saw the humor, but I’ve watched my back ever after, waiting for payback. He will attack when I least expect it.”

He was not fifty, but fifteen, surely. His love of practical jokes was legendary, and she could now see the intricate thought he put into them. She eyed him cautiously. “I’ve a grand sense of humor, Sherbourne, but please, don’t play a practical joke upon me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, Lucy. I doubt most people see the finer points of my pranks, that they’re designed to gently, kindly, humorously point out some flaw in a person’s character. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Wrotham did leave off some of his stick tendencies after that, and took a proper mistress, as all gentlemen should do when they are not married.”

“Some have mistresses even after they are married.”

“Ah, but they are married to icebergs.” He snatched her close and bent his head to hers. “You, my love, are anything but an iceberg. Whomever you marry will never, ever, in a thousand years, take a mistress, for you will keep him sated and replete and absolutely bound to your every breath.”

“Suppose I marry you?”

“Then I shall have to search for an elixir that will allow me to keep up with you. I’m fifty, Lucy, and not able to make love to a woman multiple times in an evening.”

“Just once, then?”

He looked thoughtful. “Twice is possible, but three times is right out. Truthfully, once a man passes thirty, he loses the steam for three times, so I’m not far behind, am I?”

His doubt was endearing. “Sherbourne, you foolish man, I don’t care how many times other men can work up the steam. I only want you, and if once is all I get, I’m content. If I get it twice, well, it’s a fortunate day.”

“You understand the multiple rule only applies to an evening? Over the course of a day, all bets are off.”

“So you could make love to me of a morning, and in the afternoon, and again at night. Sounds divine, so what’s the problem?”

“I suppose I’m beginning to be monotonous. Shall I stop reminding you of my age and limitations?”

“Not on my account, because I don’t really pay attention. But perhaps you’re too hard on yourself. I suggest you relax and enjoy our time together and keep it firmly fixed in your mind that I desire you an enormous lot, and cannot, have not, and most likely will not, find the slightest interest in another.” Her hand closed around him and she sucked in a breath. “Ah, Mrs. Sherry, you are magnificent. Funny, warm, wonderful, kind, and absolutely a beautiful man. Given half a chance, I will fall wildly in love and make a cake of myself over you.”

His arms tightened around her and he held her head to his shoulder. “I won’t allow it, Lucy. We’re going to find you a suitable husband, a man who can keep up, who will love you and give you more children, and who will live a very long time.”

“Is this your way of saying you would never love me, or marry me?”

“It’s my way of saying I want you to be happy, because I care for you, and am concerned for your future. It’s far too soon to talk of love and marriage, anyway. We agreed to have our two weeks and reevaluate then, did we not?”