Impassioned by Darcy Burke

Chapter 9

Sabrina sat across from Evie at a round table in her drawing room. Her butler had placed a plate of biscuits and a pot of tea between them. As Evie poured their cups, Sabrina pulled an invitation from the Phoenix Club from her reticule. She’d received it earlier that day but hadn’t mentioned it to Aldington. It wasn’t that she’d planned to not tell him, but she’d been nervous about his reaction. Plus, with the Grayson situation, the issue hadn’t come up.

She’d been too distracted. Pleasantly so.

“Is that what I think it is?” Evie asked, setting the pot down.

“I think you know,” Sabrina said with a smile. “You must be the reason I received it. And Lucien, I should think.”

“We did recommend you. Highly.” Evie arched her brows playfully as she moved a cup toward Sabrina. “I’m so pleased the membership committee saw fit to extend the invitation, but I am not surprised.”

“Why? I realize I’m the wife of an earl, but he is not a member.” Even if he was the owner’s brother.

“Unlike other clubs, status, like gender, has nothing to do with whether one is welcome at the Phoenix Club. One’s individual character is far more important. The Phoenix Club is a haven for those who are more concerned with finding a place where they feel welcome and comfortable. Where they can be their true selves and not what Society expects or demands them to be.”

Sabrina hadn’t known the club served such a purpose. And it was all her brother-in-law’s doing. Why had she ever been intimidated by him? Because he was handsome and confident? That seemed so silly now. “Lucien possesses a surprisingly thoughtful nature.”

“He goes out of his way to help anyone, but that’s not what Society expects of him.” Evie stirred her tea. “I think that’s why he does it.”

“I admire that he is confounding expectations.”

“That’s what you’re doing too.” Evie’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. “Aldington was rather flustered by you last night. Does he know about the invitation?”

Sabrina shook her head. “Since he is not a member, I assume he does not approve of the club. He’s rarely mentioned it and when he has, it’s been with disdain.”

“He has never been invited. That may be the true source of his derision.”

Now Sabrina was even more nervous about sharing the news with him. “How can I tell him I’ve been invited when he has not?”

“He can’t hold it against you,” Evie said firmly. “You’ve nothing to do with who is invited and who is not.”

While that was true, her concern came from more than that. “I don’t want to cause any strife between him and Lucien. They seem to struggle sometimes as it is, and I would hate to contribute to any difficulty.”

“You can’t feel responsible for their relationship. They’ll get on fine—or not—with or without you. Besides, it seems they have reached an accord as of late. In any case, I hope you plan to accept the invitation. I’d love for you to join me at the assembly on Friday.”

“I do, and I would enjoy that too.” Even if she was apprehensive about her husband’s reaction. The entire interlude with the Haddocks and the cat had been so lovely, as if he too wanted to find some harmony in their union. But then there was last night, which they’d rather neatly avoided talking about. “I shall have to think of a way to break the news to Aldington.”

“He won’t be angry, will he?”

Sabrina sampled her tea. “No, he doesn’t typically get angry. Frustrated perhaps, especially since I’ve returned to town.”

“Because he doesn’t know what to make of you.” Evie took a biscuit from the plate. “Oh, but his reaction at the rout was delicious. He hated that other men were flirting with you and perhaps that you seemed to enjoy it.”

“You really think he was jealous?” Was that the reason he’d come to her chamber last night? Could it be that he actually wanted her? Or did he merely feel a sense of possession because she was his wife? He’d used that word earlier, and it had provoked a sharp, primal response within her.

“He certainly seemed to be, or perhaps he thought you were provoking him.” Evie looked at her expectantly.

Sabrina certainly hadn’t done so on purpose. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“No? You sparkled with vivacity and charm. What’s more, you looked completely at ease.”

She hadn’t been. Inside, she’d been a tangle of anxiety. Laughing softly, she said, “Then I pulled off quite an act.”

Evie cocked her head. “Are you saying that wasn’t really you?”

“It was me. Rather, the new me. But it takes effort.” She realized it was akin to assuming a role on the stage, or what she imagined that might be like. It all took effort, and she was more than willing to do what was necessary to get what she wanted—a child. That was still her primary goal in all of this, and after last night, she needed more help. “Aldington visited my bedchamber last night,” she said softly, not quite meeting Evie’s gaze.

“My goodness, why didn’t you tell me that straightaway?”

“I suppose I am still rather embarrassed—or at least self-conscious—about the matter.” She winced inwardly as she recalled her behavior in bed, then grabbed a biscuit from the tray and took too large of a bite in order to avoid saying more.

Evie’s brows pinched together. “You’re feeling comfortable with yourself, yes? Your body, I mean.”

“Er, I thought so.” Sabrina frowned down at her teacup. “But when he was there and things were…happening, I was still incredibly nervous. I didn’t know what to do with him. With my…reaction.”

“What happened?”

Sabrina lifted her gaze. “I kept making noises, which seemed to bother him. Or at least surprise him. So I put my hand over my mouth to stop from doing it. And I didn’t touch him, and I should have. I did, however, have an orgasm.”

Evie didn’t exactly frown, but her brow creased with concern. “Well, the last part is an improvement, isn’t it?”

“Definitely, but it was still awkward. We seem to suffer from an inability to communicate our…desires.” Why was this so unbelievably painful to discuss? And it was even more difficult to do so with her husband—Sabrina couldn’t even summon the nerve!

“I think you may both benefit from a situation where your reticence can be set aside. As it happens, Lucien and I have come up with a plan that will facilitate this.”

Sabrina drank some tea to wash down the biscuit. Her mouth was suddenly drier than it was a moment ago. “I can’t even begin to comprehend what that could be.”

“Lucien has determined that Aldington has some sort of wall that he must break down with regard to you and sex. He’s suggested that Aldington work with a tutor to breach that wall.”

Sabrina was glad she hadn’t taken another drink of tea, for she most definitely would have swallowed it down wrong. “A tutor? Who would do that?” His mistress, perhaps?

Evie gave her a sly look. “You, but Aldington won’t know that.”

“Me?” Sabrina gaped at Evie. “I could never. I hardly know what to do.” As evidenced last night. “I’m an utter failure when it comes to him.”

“But you haven’t been in finding pleasure—you had an orgasm last night. This is progress! Now, you just need to allow yourself to respond. You must absolutely make whatever noises you want, and you should touch him. If he doesn’t know you’re you, would that make these things easier to do?”

The idea that she could act a role returned to her mind. When she’d put on the cobalt gown last night, she’d looked and felt like a confident, elegant countess, perhaps for the first time. It had helped her to actually have the confidence to not only attend the rout, but as Evie had said, sparkle. And when she’d donned the seductive dressing gown to entice Aldington, she’d looked like a woman who was eager for her husband to join her in the marriage bed, and again she’d felt more self-assured, even if it had been fleeting.

“He wouldn’t know it’s me, so I could be anyone…” Her mind chased that thought, conjuring things she might say—or do—to him if he didn’t know it was her. “Aldington agreed to this?”

Evie nodded. “I received a note from Lucien just before you arrived.”

He must have decided today then. Apparently, he’d seen last night as a failure too. A new wave of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to succumb. She wanted a child, and this was how she was going to get it.

“Who does Aldington think this tutor will be?”

“A former courtesan who is eager to help someone. And who enjoys sex.”

A laugh burst from Sabrina. “This will take quite a bit of playacting from me.” She paused. “Why isn’t his mistress performing this task?”

Evie shook her head. “He doesn’t have one and apparently never has.”

Sabrina was surprised to hear this. Why had he not ever taken a mistress? “But now he’s willing to meet with a former courtesan?”

“Apparently he recognizes he needs help in how to seduce you. You needn’t have sexual intercourse with him or touch each other at all, really. You must simply play the role of an expert in these matters.”

Another laugh leapt from Sabrina. “Simply.” The wild scheme was beginning to take root in her mind. “You really believe I can do this?”

“I do.” Evie’s eyes glowed with conviction. “You have the book, you’ve discovered what you like, you even had an orgasm with your husband. Just focus on being assertive and letting down your guard.”

She was to give him lessons in seduction. There was something strangely arousing about being with Aldington without him knowing who she was. “I’m still trying to determine how this will work. And whether I can summon the courage—and skills—necessary to behave like someone who enjoys sex.”

“But you do,” Evie said simply. “Or you will, when you have more of it. You’ve enjoyed having orgasms, have you not?”

“Well, yes.” An unavoidable blush rose up her neck and into her face. “How is it he won’t know my identity? Is it to be pitch dark?”

“Mostly. He will also be blindfolded, so there will be no chance for him to see you. Just in case, you must also wear a mask, in case the blindfold slips at all.”

“I would have to disguise my voice, I would think.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea. Can you do that?”

“I think so. What if Aldington realizes it’s me?”

“He won’t, unless you think he might recognize your body when he touches you.”

A laugh bubbled inside her, but Sabrina didn’t let it out. “If he can, I’ll be impressed. When is this to happen?” She needed plenty of time to prepare.

“Tomorrow night.”

Sabrina had picked up her teacup and practically sloshed the remaining contents down her lap. Setting it back down with a clack, she gaped at Evie. “That’s too soon!”

“You can be ready.” She gave Sabrina an encouraging smile. “You’ve already done so much—you’ve been open to learning what you need to do, and you were brilliant at the rout. Just coming to London and demanding your marital rights was a massive leap.”

Sabrina wasn’t sure she agreed that she was ready, but she had come a long way. It would be foolish to not seize this opportunity, especially if Aldington was open to improving things, as it seemed he might be. “What is the plan?”

“Tomorrow evening—later, around eleven—Lucien will show his brother to a private chamber on the second floor of the Phoenix Club.”

Interrupting her, Sabrina asked, “Why the Phoenix Club?”

“Because there are bedchambers, and it offers discretion that an inn or other establishment might not. Both you and Aldington will be secreted upstairs wearing masks and cloaks, so there will be no chance of recognition. Aldington will be waiting in one of the chambers, blindfolded, and you will enter a few minutes later. A single candle will be lit so that you can see the surroundings. As I said, you’ll retain your mask in case his blindfold is dislodged.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” Sabrina said in wonder. “What should I do when I arrive?”

“You should undress to the level of which you are comfortable. Most of all, you must be commanding and alluring. Everything you say must carry the weight of experience and sensuality. We’ll practice this today, if you’d like.”

Sabrina appreciated her friend’s support and assistance, even if the thought of practicing seduction made her stomach knot. “I’m still not sure I’m capable of doing this.”

Evie folded her hands in her lap and regarded Sabrina expectantly. “Are you an outgoing person fond of crowds?”

“Not at all. But I’ve already told you that.” During their first meeting and again last night as exhaustion had begun to set in near the end of the rout.

“Yet you behaved last night as if you were both.” Evie’s expression dared Sabrina to argue. She could not. “You can do the same as the tutor. The only obstacle is you believing you can.”

She had already done much more than she’d expected herself capable of just a few short weeks ago. A sudden calmness swept over her. “I can do it.”

Evie beamed with pride. “I’m so glad. Now, let us finish our tea and begin your lesson.” She waggled her brows.

Later, as Sabrina rode home in the coach, she couldn’t help but think the scheme was utter folly. She was going to pretend to be a tutor of something at which she was woefully uneducated, and her husband was turning himself over to the care of a stranger. That he’d never taken a mistress and would now meet with a former courtesan—even if she was a fraud—to learn how to seduce his wife was somehow sweet. Would she feel differently, however, if the former courtesan was someone other than her? It was a moot question because it was her.

Her mind turned to what she would wear tomorrow evening—something she could remove and don without assistance. A corset would be an unnecessary bother. The idea of going without a corset was titillating—perhaps that was the right mindset she needed. Her cobalt gown last night had made her feel like a countess, so she would dress to summon the role of a former courtesan. And she would speak with a different tone. Lower, perhaps. Seductive. A tickle of anticipation danced over her flesh.

There was also a chill of uncertainty that had nothing to do with her self-doubt. This was a deceptive scheme. Though this would help their marriage, she couldn’t ignore the troublesome flash of guilt when she acknowledged that it was still a betrayal. She hadn’t even discussed this concern with Evie. The rest had been too overwhelming.

Since Aldington had agreed to meet with this stranger, he wasn’t entirely blameless—not that it was a competition or that both of their behavior somehow canceled out the wrongness of it. But was it really wrong if they were both trying, however drastically, to save their marriage? If it meant the difference between a lifetime of loneliness and an intimate union they both enjoyed, Sabrina knew which she would choose. Whatever the cost.

Following his racing club meeting, Constantine drove his phaeton to his father’s house in Grosvenor Square. As he stepped down from the vehicle, he brushed his hand over the side, where a bright yellow sun, the official design of the Gentlemen’s Phaeton Racing Club, was painted on the ivory lacquer. The name was perhaps unoriginal, but it perfectly stated their purpose. It was a club comprised of drivers of phaetons with two horses who raced to various locations.

Constantine looked to his pair of matched bays. They and the vehicle were his greatest pride, for this was the one activity he did for himself. His father hadn’t suggested or asserted it, but he did support it.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Constantine turned and went up the steps to the house. The duke’s stoic butler, Bender, greeted Constantine. “His Grace is in his study.”

There was rarely any chitchat with Bender even though he’d occupied this position all of Constantine’s life. Instead of just greeting him and walking past, Constantine asked, “How are you today, Bender?”

The lines around Bender’s blue-gray eyes creased more deeply, the only indication he had a reaction to the question. “The same as any day, my lord.”

“Then that’s well, I suppose.” Constantine handed the butler his hat and gloves before taking himself to his father’s study, moving more quickly than perhaps was necessary.

The door was open, which meant the duke would allow interruption. Still, Constantine stood at the threshold and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Seated behind his massive oak desk, the duke looked up from the papers he was reading. He set down the magnifying glass he employed and sat back slightly in the chair. “Aldington, come in. I’m pleased to see you, since you are my only rational and capable offspring. Sit.”

It wasn’t an invitation but a command.

Constantine took a chair near the hearth instead of the one next to the desk. It was a minor grasp for independence, but one he liked to take from time to time. “Lucien and Cassandra are both rational and capable.”

“Your brother is a wastrel who squandered a promising military career, while your sister, who is arguably the prettiest young lady to grace Society in a number of years, has no suitors!” He slapped his hand on the desk to punctuate his frustration.

“As it happens, my errand today involves Cassandra. Lady Aldington has offered to take over as her sponsor, and I think it’s a capital idea.”

The duke’s mouth opened as he stared at Constantine for a moment. “No. That’s a terrible idea.”

Suddenly, the notion that the duke was somehow behind the countess’s return to town seemed utterly silly. Which meant she was acting entirely on her own. Constantine would contemplate that later. His father continued, “Lady Aldington is far too timid to assume that role. If she were a man, I’d call her a milksop.”

Constantine frowned, a mild display of the reaction he felt. What he wanted was to tell his father to shut his insulting mouth. “I find your description of my wife ironic given you insisted I marry her.”

“You are well aware that she had to be forced into it.” His father wiped his hand over his eyes. “I regret that I chose poorly for you.”

“Perhaps you should have let her cry off then,” Constantine said frigidly.

“And suffer the scandal of it?” The duke shook his head. “Never. Though, given that she hasn’t been able to provide an heir, perhaps I should have considered it.”

The anger simmering inside Constantine boiled into a fury. He should have expected this. His father had voiced his disappointment more than once.

“Do you suppose she’s incapable?” The duke asked, seemingly unaware of Constantine’s ire. “Her mother had six children who survived to adulthood, and her older sister has already birthed several babes. In fact, I think her younger sister, who wed last season, has also delivered a child. That would be most unfortunate if you ended up with the invalid.”

Constantine gritted his teeth. “She is not an invalid. Furthermore, she’s no longer timid. She is eager to act as Cassandra’s sponsor, and she is up to the task.” He would ensure she was. There was no way he would let her fail in his father’s eyes. Which meant he supposed he couldn’t let her fail in her duties either. He would bloody well give her a child.

“Why? She has no social skills. She’ll do nothing to contribute to Cassandra’s husband hunt.”

“In fact, last night at the Kipley rout she was most scintillating. She’s matured, Father, and you must admit that Aunt Christina has demonstrated a lack of ability when it comes to shepherding Cassandra.”

The duke scowled. He had to be aware of his sister’s foibles, and yet he didn’t seem to care while picking everyone else apart for theirs.

“You aren’t at the balls and routs,” Constantine continued. “You don’t see how Christina abandons Cassandra and barely pays her any mind.”

“That’s why she has a companion now.”

“Is her companion to be facilitating dances with prominent gentlemen and encouraging promenades?”

The duke’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a breath, and the hand that had remained atop the desk fisted. “I will speak with my sister on this matter. Now explain to me why I am hearing murmurs that you may not be in support of the Importation Act.”

It was as if Constantine was still a lad, defending his every decision, which his father had said was necessary so that he could ensure his heir was developing the appropriate capabilities. As an adult, he’d continued to answer his father’s demands, but in this case, he would almost certainly disappoint the duke who was in favor of the law. The act would impose tariffs on foreign grain in an effort to maintain prices of domestic grain so as not to bankrupt English farmers. Those in opposition, such as Constantine’s friend Brightly, argued the law would increase prices, which would hurt the laboring class.

Constantine was leaning toward voting with Brightly but wasn’t going to tell his father that. “I have been focusing my energy on the apothecaries bill.” His father should have been too, after what had happened to his wife.

“Well, divert your attention to the bloody Importation Act. It will be up for vote soon, and I expect you will support it.”

“Just as I expect you to support Lady Aldington as Cassandra’s sponsor. She will do an excellent job. Imagine what could happen under Christina’s lack of supervision. What if Cassandra was lured into a compromising position?”

The duke’s dark brows pitched into an angry V. “Then that would be your sister’s fault, not Christina’s. Bender!” He bellowed the last.

A moment later, the butler stepped into the study. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Send for Lady Cassandra at once.”

Too late, Constantine realized the trouble he’d caused. Goddammit. He turned to Bender. “Don’t bother.” Directing a glare at his father, Constantine clenched his jaw. “Cassandra hasn’t done anything wrong, nor will she. This conversation is about your sister and her failure as a sponsor. Give Lady Aldington a chance, and if you are unsatisfied with her performance, by all means go back to Aunt Christina.” Oh hell, Constantine had just set his wife up to be sharply scrutinized by the most demanding of men.

After sending a dismissive nod to Bender, the duke sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in irritated contemplation. “Why are you pressing this matter so hard? I didn’t think you cared much for your wife, yet here you are acting like her champion.”

Constantine almost asked why he would think he didn’t care. However, the answer seemed obvious. To any outsider—hell, to his wife—it would seem as though that were the case.

Did she care about him? She’d come here and demanded an heir. If she despised him and was still willing to do her duty, for whatever reason, including her own desire to be a mother, he had to give her credit.

He ought to credit her for more than that, and not just because he was fairly sure she didn’t despise him. Which was why he was fighting so hard for her to be Cassandra’s sponsor. They may not be close, but he’d made vows to her and it was time he kept them.

Drawing a breath, he straightened his shoulders, adopting a stance as if he were facing down a pack of wolves. “You have raised me to be the duke when you are gone. It will be my responsibility to ensure the members of this family are taken care of. I take that duty very seriously, and I want what’s best for Cassandra. Don’t you wish to see her wed this Season? Lady Aldington is a better choice of sponsor to meet that end. Furthermore, you selected my wife based on a variety of factors, including her unimpeachability. That trait alone makes her a better sponsor. Whether you think she has the initiative or cleverness to navigate Cassandra’s path doesn’t particularly matter. I know her far better than you, and it’s time you allow me to do what you’ve educated me for.” Constantine nearly laughed. As if he knew her very well at all. Hopefully, that would change.

He truly hoped for that?

The duke’s gaze simmered with a heavy contemplation without any indication as to what he would decide. “That was a pretty speech. You have been an excellent student. I will take your recommendation under advisement.”

Constantine allowed himself to relax the barest amount, the tension in his body lightening but not disappearing. “Thank you.”

“In the meantime, you’ll consider very closely how you plan to vote on the Importation Act.” The duke sat forward and picked up his magnifying glass, returning his attention to the papers on his desk. Constantine was dismissed, and it seemed a deal had been proposed: if he voted for the act, his father would appoint Lady Aldington as Cassandra’s sponsor.

Constantine didn’t want that arrangement. Turning on his heel, he stalked from the study. The comfort and relaxation he’d felt from his racing club meeting had been completely pulverized by his father’s domineering autocracy.

Bender met him in the entry hall with his hat and gloves.

Constantine wondered if he should speak with Cassandra to inform her how the meeting went and that he’d inadvertently given their father the idea that a compromising situation was possible. But no, if he did that, the duke would find out and it wouldn’t help their cause for Lady Aldington to be Cassandra’s new sponsor. He would have to hope that his father would see reason.

Because Constantine sure as hell didn’t want to vote for that act. Especially now that his father had all but demanded he do so. Apparently, Constantine would prefer to be contrary.

Or perhaps he was ready to emerge from the duke’s shadow.