Chapter 2
A virgin duke!
If she’d been curious about Tunbury earlier, now Delilah positively burned to learn more. It was simply impossible to reconcile cold and dull Humdrum Tun with this reserved but attentive man who blushed at the sight of pleasure rooms and was currently attempting—very unsuccessfully—to disguise an impressive bulge in his trousers. She’d already suspected he might be inexperienced because of the sheer wonder on his face and the halting questions he asked during the tour. His reaction when she oh-so-casually mentioned the word virgin had practically confirmed it. But how could that be? How had a wealthy, handsome Londoner who must be at least twenty-four or twenty-five, not yet bedded even one lover?
Strolling into the sixth room, which was decorated in soothing tones of ivory and primrose, Delilah halted in the center before turning and smiling encouragingly at the younger man. Tunbury remained as skittish as a colt; throughout the tour it seemed he’d been torn between staying to learn more about the Temple, and fleeing for the sake of his ducal dignity. She needed to tread very carefully if she wanted to coax the story out of him, if it was a religious preference to remain a virgin until marriage, then she could admire the willpower. But she sensed it was a different reason entirely, and that made him even more intriguing.
“Do come in,” she repeated softly. “I am an excellent listener who will take all secrets to the grave. Discretion is a cornerstone of Delilah’s Temple; we are not here to judge others in their preferences or choices, but to assist them in embracing their true selves and discovering lasting happiness.”
Tunbury stepped a few feet into the room, his shoulders stiff but his gaze darting about. “It is well appointed. All the rooms are.”
“Thank you,” Delilah said, beaming. “I chose the furnishings and fittings for each of them. I do redecorate regularly though, then if anyone attempts to make money by selling information to the scandal rags, it would soon be out of date. I assume I can rely on you to stay away from Fleet Street, Your Grace?”
He hesitated. “You place too much faith in me, madam. I…lost a wager. A usually reliable horse finished fourth and my forfeit was an evening here so I could report back to a lord interested in membership. I’d much rather have handed over some guineas, but had I refused, he would have publicly branded me dishonorable. And, er, ruined my standing in the eyes of appropriate marriage prospects.”
“I see,” she said, unable to halt a raised eyebrow at ‘appropriate marriage prospects’. Never would she understand the aristocracy and their ludicrous insistence on marrying without love or affection. “Well, of course I cannot stop you providing a report, but I also cannot grant membership to your friend—”
“Fletcher is not my friend,” Tunbury replied bluntly, his fists flexing.
Delilah bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “Then your sworn enemy. Those who season a favor with a sprinkling of blackmail are unwelcome in the Temple. My patrons pay a great deal of money to ensure their comfort and privacy, and I stake my reputation on that.”
“Hmmm. I’ll tell him I made it as far as the card room before being forcibly escorted out of the building by two men the size of barn doors. One I might have bested. But two? Alas not.”
“My dear duke, that sounded remarkably like a jest. Beware lest your halo of humdrum be tarnished.”
Delilah almost regretted teasing Tunbury when he looked away and rocked on his shoe heels, as though debating whether to leave. Then he sighed. “If I am humdrum because I choose not to bed other men’s wives, keep a mistress, or leave a trail of maids with swollen bellies, then so be it.”
“I believe you choose to bed no one, Your Grace. Have never done so,” Delilah said gently. “If I am wrong, I shall beg your pardon, but I do not think I am.”
The duke stared at her for the longest time as he weighed and measured her bold words. Several times it looked like he might say something only to halt and reconsider, and while that might be frustrating for her curiosity, she certainly understood his caution. The scandal rags were often filled with betrayals; people sharing tidbits for money or to inflict vengeance, and trust could be extremely difficult for those who’d been burned.
Delilah Forbes, Mistress of Sin knew that better than most.
A waving handkerchief down the hallway caught her eye, and she beckoned the maid toward her. “Yes?”
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but supper is ready. Do you wish it served in here or your parlor? Will His Grace be staying? I can fetch an extra plate and cutlery.”
Delilah glanced at her guest. “Would you like to join me for supper? You’d be most welcome, and I can guarantee the food is as good as anywhere in Mayfair thanks to an eye-wateringly expensive French chef. His desserts are nearly as good as an orgasm, but don’t tell him I said that or he’ll pout for a week. He believes they are better.”
Tunbury coughed, with a slight hint of wheeze. Good gracious, had he almost laughed? Or would that be a step too far this evening? It might well be a step too far for her pussy. The duke looked attractive enough grave and reserved or even blushing, she could only imagine how handsome he would be with a wry little grin…oh dear. Clearly it had been too long between lovers if she could be seduced by the thought of a smile. Over the years since dear Archie’s untimely death, several suitors had attempted to woo her, some just her bank accounts, but they never lasted long. Men didn’t take kindly to ranking second after a business, and she certainly had no intention of ceding her hard-won fortune or being dictated to. But an affair with a handsome virgin duke who didn’t want her money, before she departed the Temple to begin her new life?
That just might be worth considering.
He coughed again. “I believe I will. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Delilah assured him, discreetly pressing her legs together against a pulse of arousal. Even now she could imagine that dark brown hair brushing her inner thighs as she taught him how to please her with his tongue, or his big, hard body pressing her into the bed as he fucked her rough and deep with all the vigor a younger lover could muster. “Let’s retire upstairs to my parlor, shall we?”
They walked in silence up the wooden stairs, although each click and clomp of heel only seemed to heighten her awareness of him. Tunbury had a pleasant scent of soap and peppermint rather than the far more common Sandalwood, and the arm under her hand, currently hidden by linen shirt and immaculate black jacket, felt strong and firm.
On her best behavior so she didn’t frighten him away, Delilah refrained from glancing at his trousers again for further confirmation of a large cock or hard thighs. There would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, she gestured for him to enter the parlor and sit in one of the leather armchairs in front of the fire, while she lit more candles so the room had a warm, buttery glow. A few minutes later two maids brought in a covered tray each, set them on the low table between the armchairs, then left the room and shut the door behind them.
The duke stared at the trays. “I find myself curious as to what your chef has prepared. Are his other courses also nearly as good as, well, you know?”
Delilah nodded. “They certainly are. Now, I won’t make you sing for your supper, but I would encourage you to speak for it.”