The Sheik's Son(4)

“Bash come to me tomorrow,” she murmured.

He pulled on his dark breeches and white linen shirt while buttoning his waistcoat, which matched his breeches. He tied his white cravat loosely around his neck and pulled on his hose and black shoes. Then, he shrugged into his knee-length coat, which was cut to show off the width of his shoulders.

“We’ll see,” he replied.

Sebastian enjoyed Giselle and had for almost a year. But she was clingy and he preferred to keep a distance with women, especially the women at the exclusive brothels he and his friends frequented. He knew that oftentimes the women entertained fancies that if a man continued to see them exclusively they would be set up in their own home.

Though he had thought about doing this, it was not the young Giselle whom he had considered.

Juliette, madam of the brothel, was a woman who had more than once caught Sebastian’s eye. She had chestnut brown hair and light brown eyes and was older than him by several years. She was an attractive woman and he had bedded her once. But women were an entanglement that he preferred to live without, and so he had not pursued her.

Giselle lay naked amidst the bedclothes and eyed her lover from top to bottom. He was a handsome man, tall with a slender, masculine build. He had wavy brown hair, liquid brown eyes and cutting cheekbones, and seemed to be not wholly English but possibly something else as well. She had heard one rumor that said his mother was English and his father was some maharajah in the East. She dismissed this rumor as nonsense.

Another rumor claimed he was the illegitimate son of an Asian woman and European father and that he had been sent to Paris to be placed out of the way. This she did not believe either.

But she did know several things about the mysterious Sebastian Fairfax that were absolute fact. She knew that he was secretary to John Frederick Sackville, third Duke of Dorset and British ambassador to France. She surmised that this position was nothing to scoff at and believed that because of it, Sebastian must have parents and family of some repute.

She knew that Sebastian and his set of friends, which included an Englishman named Andrew Holland and a Frenchman named Etienne Pousson, enjoyed Paris—which included its women, drink and gambling.

It was well known that the Duke of Dorset had several passions and was known for his love of cricket, billiards, tennis and women. That the duke’s secretary and his friends should follow suit was not unusual.

Sebastian had been frequenting the brothel since he had come to Paris and had exclusively kept company with Giselle.

He chucked a finger under Giselle’s chin and smiled at her before leaving her alone. He strolled down the stairs and found his two friends drinking champagne on a small couch in the large salon. Two lovely women sat nearby. One woman, with messy blonde hair, had a shawl over her shoulders barely covering her breasts while the other woman, a brunette with large brown eyes and thin lips, stared vacantly into her empty glass.

“Gentlemen.” Sebastian nodded to his two friends—Andrew Holland and Etienne Pousson.

“So, how was the delectable Giselle,” Andrew asked, winking at Sebastian.

“The same,” Sebastian returned. He did not have the desire, as some men do, to discuss his sexual exploits in detail.

Andrew shook his head. “Women. When boredom sets, another one is on the horizon.”

Sebastian took his whiskey and drank it straight. “What is it to be tonight?”

He looked over at his two friends, as different from each other as night and day. Andrew was blond with blue eyes and was always looking for a joke—he loved to laugh at life. Etienne was serious with inky black hair and brown eyes, and was engrossed in politics. Women admired the trio wherever they went, but all three had declared themselves not ready for marriage.

Already in his 30s, Sebastian knew that one day he would like to marry and have children, but he had obligations to his family—in particular, his father. He knew certain things were expected of him and he had to take any attachments or engagements very seriously.

He saw Juliette in the back of the large salon speaking to the gloomy brunette woman and their eyes met.

“Monsieur Fairfax.” She nodded to him and his friends.

Juliette’s smile was a mere shadow on her face. Her brown hair was pulled back to reveal a slender neck and delicate collarbone. Her deep purple gown had a low, scooped neckline that showed a great deal of her breasts, yet everything else about the dress was modest, with elbow-length sleeves and a simple train. It revealed very little, but Sebastian remembered her alabaster skin underneath the fabric and her moans in his ear that one night.

He wondered how many men she had moaned for. A hundred? Two hundred?