Seduce Me, If You Dare by Alyssa Clarke

Chapter Three

Hours after storming her husband’s bedchamber, Prue was still mortified. Quite simply and completely mortified as well as uncertain. A state of existence she deplored. Lady Charity Rutherford, one of Prue’s dearest friends, pinned her with a gimlet stare.

“Out with it,” Charity said, sinking into the chaise longue by the window.

“Out with what?” Prue said distractedly, watching the carriage that had just collected Theodosia from 48 Berkeley Square rattle down the cobbled streets. Theo had gone off with a duke who had kissed her senseless the evening before. Prue hoped Theo would accept Charity’s dare and indulge in an affair with the man. Theo’s eyes had been quite saddened of late, and the sparkle of excitement she displayed just now had been a rare delight to witness. A delight inspired by the Duke of Hartford.

Oh, Theo, I hope you find some happiness. Prue dearly hoped they would also find Lady Perdie who had ran away. “Do you believe Theo will be well, travelling God knows where, with that arrogant duke for who knows how long? I do hope she acts on your dare and ravishes the man.”

Charity’s gaze narrowed. “Theo is gone, and our fearless leader is smart and can very well handle the duke. Now, Theo did not see it because she was all atwitter with Lady Perdita being missing and the duke blaming her for it, but I can see the circles under your eyes and hear the strain in your voice, Prue. What happened?”

Prue closed her eyes as emotions tightened her throat. It had been so very hard facing Oscar this morning over breakfast, pretending the humiliating night before had not happened. Their conversation had once again been polite and proper. The man had not brought up anything about her unexpected actions, and while she had watched him drink his coffee and read the freshly pressed newspaper, Prue had wondered if today he would take this Clarice to be his mistress. She had wanted to slam her hands on the table and demand answers. But that of course would not do. She was his countess. A lady. How she loathed polite and proper when she wanted to show her emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Prue faced Charity and smiled. Her friend had already taken off the hat she wore to protect her fair skin from the sun, unpinned her lovely auburn hair to tumble to her shoulders, and removed her shoes and stockings.

Thinking about how much to share with Charity, Prue took her time removing her shoes and stockings. This was one of the things she loved most about being a part of this secret lady’s club. The freedom of just being oneself without any judgement.

The door to the drawing-room opened and Lady Lucinda, a young widow and another great friend barreled inside the room. Miss Harriet Thompson and Lady Agatha Barrett hurried right on Lucinda’s heels. Harriet and Agatha wore fencing gear, clearly preparing for a lesson with Monsieur Jean-Phillipe Lambert. They were at least an hour early.

“Are you well, Prue? You seem out of sorts,” Agatha said, sitting on a single sofa with a sigh.

“I did not sleep well last night,” she admitted with a small smile.

Harriet cast her a probing stare. “You do know you can confide anything with us.”

A rush of gratitude filled her, and for the hundredth time Prue wondered how she would have survived her loneliness without these ladies. She sauntered over to the sofa opposite Charity and sat, reclining against the padded cushions.

“What I am about to confess will be shocking.”

The ladies showed great interest at that, always the ones to love gossiping. Prue laughed. “It is not any gossips; it is very personal and what I am about to say must not leave this room.”

“You have our confidence,” Charity said warmly. “Please never doubt it. We are not just friends here, but we are a sisterhood.”

The other three nodded in agreement. Another lump formed in Prue’s throat. “Thank you, ladies. Wycliffe and I…we are not as close as husbands and wives ought to be,” she said, hating that her cheeks burned. “We…we are not intimate, and I so desperately want a normal marriage.”

“Oh, Prue,” Lucinda said, scooting closer to her on the sofa. “We had no notion of it. You must be very unhappy.”

How those sympathetic words pierced her. “I have been unhappy, frustrated, and angry. I have been his wife and countess for three years and…we have never kissed.”

“It cannot be so!” Charity cried. “That man looks at you as if he wants to devour you. It is embarrassing, really.”

Prue flushed. “I have seen him staring at me several times and there is this intensity in his eyes, but he never approaches me. Never opens that connecting door, and I do not know how to breach his wall of reserve.”

Agatha frowned. “Please, Prue, do not hate me for suggesting this. Perhaps he…he has a mistress?”

Everyone winced.

“He does not. I overheard him speaking with Lord Trent who was all but begging my husband to take a mistress. Some opera star name Clarice. Wycliffe refused.”

“That my dear,” Lucinda said, “is most interesting. I am twice widowed. I know something about men. That he does not take a mistress but stares at you with want says that your husband is a normal man with appetites that he might be uncertain in pursuing.”

Prue stared at her, thinking back to their wedding night. “I fainted on our wedding night.”

“Was it that awful?” Harriet demanded. “I’ve seen a maid and a footman coming from a linen closet and, let me tell you, she looked most pleased.”

“I fainted before he could even kiss me. There was a look in his eyes that said I would have been ravished most thoroughly and like a ninny I swooned. I woke the next morning to find myself in my bed, and my virtue still intact. My husband has never mentioned it.”

“And since then he has never tried to seduce you to his bed?” Charity asked, clearly still disbelieving.

“Yes. I detect no interest on his part. It is very disheartening.” Prue closed her eyes and rubbed at her temple, hoping to still the slight headache she felt forming.

Lucinda canted her head. “Perhaps your earl believes you are afraid of the marriage bed.”

Prue groaned. Her fainting had suggested that indeed.

“He might think he is doing the honorable thing by staying away from you,” Charity said.

Harriet frowned and tapped her chin with a well-manicured finger. “Yes, but all lords need their heir. He cannot stay away forever.”

Lucinda clapped her hands together. “I believe he might be waiting until you are older. That must be it!”

“I am twenty,” Prue said wryly. “He has already waited three years.”

Charity fixed her with a piercing stare. “I thought you were two and twenty?”

With a slight flush Prue admitted, “I tweaked my age slightly so that Theo would not balk at granting me membership to the club.”

The girls looked suitably impressed and Prue bit back a smile.

“Is your lord much older than you are, my dear?” Lucinda asked.

“Twelve years separate us.”

Lucinda pursed her lips. “That is not so bad. That man is terribly handsome and fit, if I may say so. My first husband was three and twenty years my senior. Going forward, keep it in mind that he might believe as it stands you are too young. Rubbish of course.”

Prue nodded thoughtfully. “I am going to ask for a meeting where I will ask for answers.”

“Oh, no, my dear,” Lucinda said. “Not that at all. No talking, only action. You will go to that man and kiss him and…”

“I already tried,” she interjected drily. “It was a spectacular failure.”

That shut up her friends.

“How so?” Agatha said, leaning forward.

As briefly as possible, Prue recounted last night’s fiasco. Lucinda seemed thoughtful, Agatha and Harriet befuddled, and Charity curious.

“I have the solution,” Harriet said, her dove gray eyes brightening. “You should seduce your husband in the naughtiest of ways. The ways they claim rakes persuade us ladies to their beds for wicked delights.”

“Seduce him?” Prue parroted, her heart dancing a madcap beat. “I already told you about last night. He was not inclined to my advances.”

“Pftt,” Lucinda said. “I cannot tell if it is charming or pitiful that you believed that little peck was seduction.”

Prue sent her friend a scowl. “I will not—”

“Prue?”

She glanced at Charity who had stood and fisted a hand at her slim hip. Her hazel eyes brightly flecked with green gleamed. “I dare you to seduce your husband, most thoroughly.”

A bloody dare.

“Women do not seduce…” she began faintly, bemused at the thrill of excitement thrumming in her veins. Seduce Oscar. Where would she even begin? “I know nothing about seduction.”

Lucinda stood, hurried from the room without a word, only to return a minute later puffing.

Prue looked at the sheen of sweat on her friend’s brow. “What did you do?”

“Ran to the library and back,” she said with a grin, holding up a dark leather-bound book. It was rather small, and Prue did not recall seeing it before in the library.

“This is from Theo’s special collection,” Lucinda said, plopping down on the sofa. “Gather around girls.”

Everyone scrambled closer, while Charity poured sherry in four glasses and handed them out.

“So early in the morning?” Harriet demanded with an arched eyebrow.

Charity grinned as she poured herself a glass. “I have the sneaky suspicion if we are to peruse a book from Theo’s secret collection we will need strong libation.”

Prue took her glass and sipped the sweet but tangy liquor.

“This book,” Lucinda said, “will show you many ways to a man’s, ummm, heart.”

“So, it is about seduction,” Agatha said excitedly. “Thank heavens. There is a very stubborn vicar I have been trying to persuade to marry me.”

Lucinda blinked. “I do not believe these are the tools to use on a man of God.”

Agatha sent her a saucy wink and Lucinda rolled her eyes.

“It will be shocking to your sensibilities, ladies. Prepare yourselves.”

Heavens, Agatha and Harriet looked flushed and nervous. Charity’s expression was inscrutable. It was a glimpse of something naughty and forbidden. An electrifying thrill coursed through Prue and she leaned forward. “If this book is too naughty for our perusal, I shall look at it in private.”

“A perfectly sensible suggestion—” Charity began, her cheeks turning rosy as she opened the book in the middle and peeked inside.

“You would not dare!” Agatha said, lunging for it. “I am tired of being kept in the dark, and why must only gentlemen be aware of what happens to our bodies. The very cheek of it is astounding. The very suggestion that we might have heart palpitations should we know beforehand what happens between a man and a woman is entirely ridiculous. Is that not setting us up to be taken advantage of by rakes and libertines?”

“I do agree with Agatha,” Harriet said, her eyes gleaming. “Open it, Lucinda.”

She complied, and Prue almost dropped her drink on the carpet. They gasped in unison and every cheek pinkened. But no one turned away from the erotic images illustrated in such vivid details. Prue had never witnessed something so…wonderfully scandalous. Admittedly the images depicted in the book were more carnal than she’d anticipated. Glancing up, she noted the wicked gleam in Charity’s eyes.

“Have you ever done any of these things?” Prue asked, striving for a worldly air.

Charity’s laugh echoed with naughtiness. “Not as yet.” A wistful smile curved her mouth. “But perhaps very soon.”

“Seduction is about knowing how to arouse a man’s body,” Lucinda murmured, tracing a finger over one of the images. “Men are extraordinarily carnal creatures who like to be touched, kissed, petted, and stroked over their entire body.”

“Everywhere?” Prue demanded a bit breathlessly.

“Yes.”

“It is important to know that the seduction of someone is not only about pleasures of the flesh. You must also intrigue his thinking. Entice him with laughter and witty anecdotes. Flatter his vanity but with a subtle touch. Create intimacy so that trust can build between you. And when there is that trust and intimacy, the pleasure will be even greater.”

Trust and intimacy.

Craving erupted in Prue’s chest. I want that. Laughter and friendship. Nothing she said to Oscar would be a false flattery, that she could not do. She wanted honesty between them. Love.

Agatha gasped and Prue lowered her eyes to that new page.

Oh! A lady was poised on her knees, a gentleman’s large phallus in her mouth. The man’s expression was that of acute gratification. The lady herself looked pleased…powerful as if in giving him this pleasure she stole a piece of his soul. In another picture, the woman was lowered to her elbows, her buttocks arched into the air with the man kneeled behind her and said phallus seemingly disappearing into her body.

Dear God.

Was this why Oscar avoided her bed, because he wanted this? For in all of Prue’s wildest imaginings, she had never even conceived of such a notion during bedding.

For a moment, Prue allowed herself to imagine being clasped in her husband’s arms. Her fingers threading through his dark, silky hair; her body pressed against his as passionate hands stroked and molded the shapes of her breasts, hips, and that place between her thighs.

Prue stood and walked over to the window, resting her forehead against the cool pane. “Can I really seduce my own husband?”

“You must—” a soft voice said firmly behind her.

“Charity… I…”

“You must Prue. I can tell that you have been discontented. Theo knew it as well, but we wanted to give you space to breathe until you were ready to confide in us. I am daring you, and I will be putting up our dare on the wager board.”

Prue’s hand fluttered to rest over her heart. What would it be like to be touched and cherished with intimacy? She shifted so she could see her friend and smile. “I accept your dare.”

Charity gasped and sent her a delighted grin. “No half measures.”

“None,” Prue said with a laugh.

They chatted some more and perused the naughty book before Agatha and Harriet went to their fencing lesson. Lucinda went to the card room where a few ladies gambled, and Charity had gone to write her name beside a dare. The one that everyone had been avoiding for it was unspeakably reckless…to sneak into a man’s home and steal love letters back for the lady who had sent them.

Tucking away the book Lucinda had insisted she borrow, Prue made her way into the large drawing-room below stairs. That was where they met with their fearless leader often, laughed, and came up with outrageous and fun dares and wagers.

She glanced at the dare she knew Charity was undertaking, feeling a curl of concern for her friend. A pot of one hundred pounds is to be had for the lady who dares to steal back a certain packet of love letters from that wicked libertine Viscount Sallis. Some of their dares were more reckless than others, and this one was even a bit harebrained. Still, Charity was determined to follow through, and Prue would support her.

Walking over to the wager board, Prue took up the chalk, but she did not write the dare. There was a measure of hesitancy, for everyone would know the intimate details of her marriage, but with a small smile, she pushed it away. She trusted every single member, all five and thirty, at 48 Berkeley Square. For everyone under this roof, it was about the genuineness of their friendship and love, the joy of being themselves without mockery or judgment. They were a sisterhood.

She scribbled,

Charity has dared Prudence to seduce the Earl of Wycliffe to her bed. Prue has accepted this dare.

What she did not write on the board was that she would do everything to seduce not only his body but his heart into giving her a passionate love, a husband who was a friend and a lover.

Even if the odds seemed so dismal.

Enticing Oscar’s heart might be a difficult task for she had never forgotten how dismissively he’d claimed a marriage connection had nothing to do with love. Given the distance between them, it was unlikely her husband’s viewpoint had changed.

Still…all or nothing. She would not simply accept that it was so; Prue would try and hope that he did not shatter her in the process.