Chapter Seven

Two nights later, Eliza still wanted to strangle Nicholas.  Not that she had seen much of his sorry self.  After his fit of pique at the Celestial Ball, the duke had made himself scarce, not even appearing at her door during calling hours as would have been proper.  Instead, he sent missives by way of messenger, requesting her presence at various events and always accompanied by an invitation for Stephen and her parents to join him.

Her parents.  For even now, she still had difficulty of thinking of them as their parents.  Even though Eliza knew that if nothing changed in a fortnight or less, this man would be permanently wedged in the Deaver family and it would be extremely difficult to dislodge him.  She doubted that it could be done even now.  It would take nothing less than a miracle.  Or proof that he was not who he claimed to be, though she no idea what form that proof might take.  Still, she held out hope.

What she did not hold out much hope for was Nicholas' asinine plan with this false courtship.  Especially when he spent his days gallivanting around London as if he was still a rakehell of the highest order.  Though they had never discussed specifics about how either of them was to behave, she had assumed that he would show her some devotion, even though it was becoming common knowledge that this courtship was really only to see if they would suit well enough so that she might bear his heir and spare.  There was, of course, no illusion that it was a love match.  Nor would there ever be.

Still, Eliza had expected Nicholas to curb some of his wild ways - at least to a degree.  However, if anything, he had simply become worse.  In fact, she had no doubt that when he had left her side after the Tarhill's dinner party earlier in the night, he was most likely on his way to some gaming hell or brothel.  She simply prayed that he would be a bit more circumspect this time.  Though she sincerely doubted he would be so considerate.

Not to mention that when Eliza did see Nicholas, he acted as if she was his moon and sun, the very person he wished to build his future around.  It was becoming rather annoying.  True, he was playing his role to perfection, but in the process, he was inadvertently hurting her heart.  That was her fault, Eliza knew.  Nicholas had been very clear about their goals.  And his role within her life.  Still, after that moment at the Celestial Ball when he had crossed the room to sweep her into his arms, Eliza had to admit that a small part of her had wanted to believe the entire thing was real.

The courtship.  The anger.  The jealousy.  

Her head might want it to be a fallacy, but her heart was quickly developing other ideas.  And all that did was make her even more upset than she already was. 

Her annoyance with the entire situation must have shown on her face, for when Theresa entered Eliza's room to help her undress for the night, the maid made a tutting noise as she began to pull the pins out of her mistress' thick, heavy hair.

"How did I not know you were being courted by a man like The Bloody Duke?"  Theresa asked as she took a brush to Eliza's hair, gently undoing the knots the upswept hairstyle had created.  "After all, I know everything about you.  Or so I thought."

"Theresa.  Stop.  Please."  Eliza was not in the mood to be badgered tonight.  Especially not by her maid.  Even though normally, the two were typically the best of friends.  "You know that I have seen Nicholas off and on the last several years at various parties and balls.  He was Stephen's friend.  And he is somewhat mine as well.  At the very least, we are friendly and have been for some time.  And we are both growing older."

At that, the maid put the brush down on the dressing table with a thump.  "That may be true, but Izzy, he is not the right man for you.  Everyone knows of his great love affair with Lady Berkshire."

"She is gone," Eliza replied wearily, resisting the urge to rub her eyes.  The last person she wanted to discuss tonight - with anyone - was Ellie Berkshire.  "And as I have said, Nicholas and I are not in love.  I doubt we will ever be.  But I am old and unwed, yet still hopefully young enough to give him an heir.  And now Stephen has returned."  The last thing Eliza wanted was to admit her doubts about her newfound brother - or anything else for that matter - to anyone on the staff.  Even Theresa.  "I need to find myself a husband."

Theresa snorted.  "You have never been concerned with such matters before.  A husband is the last thing you need.  Especially one who treats you like a fool."  Then, in a snit, the maid flounced out of the room.

Eliza knew she should call her back and reprimand her, but she didn't have the heart.  What would be the point?  Theresa was correct, after all.  Eliza did deserve better.  But she wasn't about to get what she deserved.  At least not from Nicholas.  And besides, this was all a ruse so that Nicholas could remain close to the family and gather information about her brother.  There was nothing more to it.  Even if no one else was privy to that information.

With a sigh, Eliza picked up the brush and began combing out the rest of her hair, attacking it with a vengeance.  And even long after it was tangle free and plaited in a thick braid for the night, she continued to sit in front of her dressing table mirror, staring at her reflection.

Eliza was still angry with the irresponsible duke, mostly for making her look a fool.  She was also furious with him for pretending to be jealous at the Celestial Ball, when it was now abundantly clear that it had been all an act.  Even if her stupid heart refused to believe.  If his anger over her dress had been real, he would not have bolted from her side earlier in the evening.  Though her dress tonight hadn't been that revealing, it had been low cut enough so that Baron Rockville - who was still attempting to snare a wealthy wife - had been caught staring at her breasts at least twice.

And Nicholas hadn't batted an eye.

That was more than enough proof that he truly didn't care - which was exactly as it should be.  Nicholas was only at her side to gather information on Stephen - which also didn't seem to be going exactly according to plan.

Still, as Eliza slowly climbed into bed, she couldn't help but remember how right it had felt to be in Nicholas' arms and the security and warmth she had found there.  Not to mention the burning anger she had seen flare in his eyes when he had witnessed other men ogling her in that slightly scandalous dress.  He had accused her of being an actress worthy of the stage.  It seemed he was just as talented in that regard as well.

Eliza's last thought as she fell asleep was of Nicholas.  She wondered what he was doing right at that exact moment.  And then decided that it was probably better if she did not know.

"Is there something you desire, my lord?  Some sort of pleasure I can provide for you?  You know I am more than willing to do whatever you ask.  You need only voice your wishes."

Nicholas gazed down the length of the bed, the naked woman sprawled on the scarlet satin sheets looking up at him invitingly through thickly lashed eyes.  She was delightfully curvy, with large, heavy breasts meant to be feasted upon for hours upon end.  Yet he felt nothing other than mild arousal when he looked at her, those cat-green eyes of hers showing an eagerness and a near-desperation to please, mixed with a slight hesitation that he did not particularly care for.

Ianthe was among Madame Desponia's most coveted girls - if one had enough coin to pay her asking price and few did - and she was indeed a tender young thing whose brief time at the brothel had not yet hardened her to the harsh way of life she had chosen.  She was skilled, or so he believed.  After all, the feeling of her sweet, tender mouth wrapped around the silken steel of his cock the previous week was not something he would soon forget.  At the moment, however, he could not rid himself of the image of the brief flare of hurt in Eliza's turquoise eyes as he departed the Tarhill's dinner party as quickly as he could.  As if he did not wish to be in her company a single moment longer.

Reaching down to stroke his cock, Nicholas tilted his head in invitation.  "Come up here, pet.  I am certain we can both think of something I would enjoy."

Like the experienced seductress she was, Ianthe slithered up the bed, her golden limbs indicating that she sunbathed nude on the brothel's roof as often as was possible.  No other woman of his acquaintance possessed such bronzed skin.  And for a moment, Nicholas wondered about the woman behind the name, for she did not quite seem to fit the role of hardened seductress who spread her legs upon command.  Who was this woman?  Really?  What was her real name?  Certainly it wasn't Ianthe.  That name belonged to a Greek water nymph of legend.

This woman spoke in cultured, educated tones.  Was she a lady of breeding?  If so, why was she here?  Did she choose this life or was she forced into it by some cruelty of fate?  Would this have been Eliza's fate had she not been clever enough to manage the marquisate's affairs after Stephen had been lost at sea?

Damn his reckless thoughts that kept straying back to Eliza, Nicholas grumbled to himself darkly.  This was her fault, his inability to enjoy himself in a place where he had sought refuge so many times before.  If she had not worn that infernal, revealing gown...  If Baron Rockville had not noticed and begun hanging around her every chance he got...  If.  If.  If.

Then, Ianthe's luscious lips were around his cock again and Nicholas momentarily forgot Eliza and just about everything else.  But only for a moment.  Then, the enormity of everything - including Eliza's implicit trust in him - came rushing back and he felt the pressure begin to build again.

Pressure to solve her problem.  Pressure to actually be the sort of suitor that she deserved - and that he most decidedly was not.  Even if the false role was only temporary.  Pressure to appear at social functions and behave himself, rather than sweeping in and causing a stir before departing again just as rapidly.  Well, perhaps he had succeeded at that last part, given the scene he had caused at the Celestial Ball, sweeping Eliza away from her friend and onto the dance floor for a scandalous waltz.

Nicholas also felt the far more delightful pressure beginning to build at the base of his spine from Ianthe's tender ministrations.  And suddenly, he knew he could not allow her to continue.  How would he have felt if he had discovered that Radcliffe had been stepping out on Julia while they had been courting?  Nicholas was certain he would have been furious.  And most likely enraged enough to want to kill his best friend.

While Eliza was not Julia - nor was he actually courting her in truth - Izzy was still someone's sister.  Or had been.  Perhaps still was.

And despite Nicholas' need for release, he could not do this to Eliza.  It would not be fair.  And damned if the idea of her in pain of any sort - especially pain that he had caused - killed any remaining amorous feelings that he had for the young woman sprawled naked over his lap.

Nicholas also could not help but think that seeing Eliza naked - what with her particularly luscious looking breasts - might stimulate him far more than Ianthe was capable of at the moment.  And that thought made his cock stir - far more than it should have.  He hadn't been pretending about that part the other night.  Eliza's breasts had looked particularly delectable in that scandalous gown.

Nicholas knew he could not and should not desire Eliza.  She was a pain in the arse.  More specifically, in his arse.  And he wasn't even certain he did in fact desire her.  But he did feel something for her, something more than just annoyance and that bothered him greatly.  This was how it had begun with Ellie.  The tingle of attention somewhere in the depths of his mind.  His inability to stop thinking of her.  And then what?  Another disaster?

Eliza wasn't Ellie, but she was female.  And a very dangerous female at that.  Or she could be.  If he allowed her to be.  If he allowed this desire - for he had no intention of lying to himself about the issue any longer - to spiral out of control.

Still, one look from her, one simple suggestion from Eliza that she wished for something physical, and Nicholas would oblige her.  Gladly.  He did not do love, but he did most certainly fuck.  And he was fairly certain that a woman of Eliza's age could handle a brief affair without any crying or wailing at the end.  Except that she had to want such a thing, and thus far, she had given him no indication that she would be amenable to such an arrangement.

Ianthe must have noticed something was wrong, and that his attention to her was wandering, for almost immediately she ceased her ministrations and popped her head up from between his thighs, a frown on her pretty face.  He did note that she never stopped caressing his ballsac.  Most likely just in case he wanted to continue.

"Am I displeasing you, your grace?"  She had a worried look on her face, one that tugged at something inside of Nicholas.  Something he had long thought dead.

Nicholas shook his head, making certain to keep his voice silkily seductive, so as not to arouse her suspicions.  "Not at all, pet.  I am merely distracted this evening.  State business, you know."

"I know how to change that."  Then she rose onto her knees and offered him both of her breasts in the palms of her hands.  An offering of delectable flesh that she knew he would be hard pressed to ignore.  Any man with a pulse would be.

He smiled easily, though he had already begun to shift away from her.  He would not bed the wench tonight.  In good conscience, he could not.  Not when there was Eliza.  Even if their relationship was a farce, he did still wish to be her.  If she agreed.  And he would not bed a whore when he was thinking of a lady.  He did have some morals after all.  "I'm sorry, pet.  Not tonight."  He also knew Ianthe was waiting for him to use a more tender endearment, something that would indicate that he favored her and would be returning in the future.

While Nicholas might return, there would be no such endearment.  He did not use pretty words during bedsport.  He had once.  It had ended badly.  Never again.

When he reached for his pants and it became clear that the evening was at an end, Ianthe reached for her robe with a sigh.  "But another night, perhaps?"  She was ever the seductress and once more, Nicholas had to wonder about her.  Something did not quite add up.  Was her innocence an act or was it genuine?  A part of him hoped it was merely an act.  He hated the idea of one as innocent as she becoming jaded over time, hardened to life with each man's cock that she took into her body as he sought his pleasure only and not hers.

If nothing else, Nicholas had always been certain to be a considerate lover, making sure the woman always found her release as well, be she prostitute or lady.  In his opinion, both were worthy of finding pleasure.  The act of sex should never be entirely about the man.  It was why he was a favorite of the brothels around London.  Even if he did insist on protection from disease by using French letters each time he fucked.

He offered Ianthe a small smile.  "Perhaps.  The coming weeks shall be busy, so do not count on anything, pet.  I make no promises."

"As you wish, my lord."  Then, she was gone, probably in search of another man to bed for the night, preferably one who might become her protector.  It was clearly what she had hoped for from Nicholas, not that she would have ever had it.  He took mistresses, but never from the ranks of whores.  Not even of the highest classes, such as the women Madame Desponia employed.

As if merely thinking of her could conjure her from out of nowhere, it was mere seconds after Ianthe departed that Desponia appeared, her body hidden from view beneath a billowing golden gown and her face obscured by an elaborate mask of gold, feathers, and jewels.

"Has Ianthe displeased you, your grace?" she asked with a seductive purr as she moved closer.  "I am certain I can find another woman more to your tastes this evening, if you wish.  Perhaps one who likes things...rough?"  She allowed the implication of what she was offering to hang in the air between them like a promise.  And, on another night, Nicholas might have accepted.  For he did so like variety.  But not tonight.

"The girl was delightful as always, Desponia," Nicholas assured the woman, noticing the way her eyes followed his fingers as he buttoned his shirt.  She was clearly interested in his body and for some reason, he felt an odd tug in his gut.  History had taught him to heed the warning his body was providing him.  "But I am not in the mood tonight, I fear.  My mind is otherwise occupied."

Desponia, however, would not be dissuaded.  "Then allow me to find you another girl," she practically pleaded.  "I have so many to choose from.  After all, you are hardly ever here for more than a quick fuck.  You have yet to sample the buffet of nubile young flesh that I have to offer.  I have other girls with darker, more exotic tastes.  Unlike Ianthe, they will allow you to do whatever you like."

Whether it was her words or the way she said them, Nicholas could not be certain.  However he had a feeling that tonight would be his last visit to Lycosura.  Desponia had a plan of some sort and she was dangerously close to tipping her hand.  She would not be the first brothel owner who had attempted to blackmail The Bloody Duke.  Thankfully, he had never made any pretense as to what, precisely, he was.

Rising from the bed, Nicholas stalked over to Desponia and gently grasped her wrist in his hand, squeezing just hard enough so that she knew he meant business.  Then, when he was certain he had her full and complete attention, he smiled at her in the most sinister and yet still charming manner he knew how.

"I do not know what game you play, madam, but I can assure you, you would do well not to trifle with me."  Once more, the mask of The Bloody Duke slammed down over his features and Nicholas knew she would see no trace of the man beneath.  No one ever did.  "For I can destroy both you and your business with a simple word dropped in the correct ear."

In response, Desponia huffed in indignation.  "You only imagine your power, my lord.  You might be The Bloody Duke, but I know the secrets of a great many men.  Including yours."

Angry now, Nicholas pushed her away from him and took up a relaxed position near the door, like a lion guarding its prey.  Desponia would not leave unless he allowed it.  And she would not leave until he had his say.  "What would you tell them, Desponia?  That I come here and I fuck your whores?"  He laughed dryly.  "I can assure you that is something that all of London knows rather well.  It's not as if I have made a secret of it."

"You prefer blondes," Desponia replied.

In response, Nicholas yawned and rolled his eyes.  "Everyone knows that.  It is hardly a secret.  Or damming.  Every man has a type, after all."

"You like to tie them up.  The whores.  So you can fuck them while they struggle."  The madam tried again.

Another yawn, this time accompanied by a leisurely stretch.  "Once.  It was a game, as I'm certain Xanthe would agree.  And it was rather boring, as the tying up part only lasted but a moment.  That girl is far too clever by half with knots."  He smiled again and crossed his legs in front of him.  "Another blonde.  What a surprise.  And you watched."  Nicholas had made certain Desponia had been a witness to that event - just in case.  He was no longer the stupid youth he had once been.  "And you allowed your guards to suckle at you while you did so."  He cocked an eyebrow.  "For a madam that promises the utmost in discretion, and who holds herself out as an unobtainable prize in the bedchamber, that would not do your business much good. Were it to get out, that is."

Nicholas could tell by the angry light in Desponia's eyes that she knew she had nothing on him to use as blackmail.  He had been extremely careful, after all.  "Get out."  Her voice was low and angry, and Nicholas knew he had won.  It had been easy, but it was also a hollow victory.  "And never come back."

Slowly, Nicholas peeled himself away from the door, taking his time and allowing Desponia a few moments to figure out that she did not have the power to order him about like some lapdog.  Truly, this had been too easy.  Yet he also acknowledged that his heart hadn't been in the game.  If he had really been interested in playing the role of The Bloody Duke to the hilt, there would have been more threats.  More anger.  Instead, he was just left with a simmering sense of unrest.

"Gladly."  He gave the madam a mock salute.  "And Desponia?"

"Yes?"

"Never attempt to blackmail me or any of my friends again.  I promise that you will regret it if you do.  And I do not make such promises lightly."

Then Nicholas was gone, moving through the gilded halls of Lycosura for the last time.  Not that he regretted it.  This place had lost its allure for him long ago.  Save for Ianthe, and there was more to her than met the eye, he suspected.  He filed that information away for later.  Just in case.

Then he was gone, disappearing back into the night, still wrapped in the persona of The Bloody Duke, knowing full well that his departure would most likely be noted.  And hating the fact that Eliza would know where he had been.