She nodded. “Where are you going for that?”
“I thought Clark and Debenhams, some Mayfair confectioners…”
“Don’t be daft,” Delilah said impatiently. “All the warehouses are in Cheapside; you’ll pay half the cost for the same quality. And I know of a confectioner so good it will make you wish you could eat nothing but sweets morning, noon, and night for the rest of your life.”
“Oh! If you could write down some addresses, I would be most grateful.”
“Much better if I escort you. The moment those shopkeepers see your fancy clothes and fancy carriage, they’ll fleece you like a Cheltenham sheep. I mean…ah…if you like.”
Bennett raised an eyebrow. “First you storm the castle, then you decide to knock?”
She poked out her tongue. “Let me find you an appropriate costume.”
“I am not going to Cheapside dressed as a Spartan, madam.”
“Quite right, too chilly for bare chests. I thought more a clerk to fit in. We have several such costumes; you’d be surprised how often grand ladies fantasize about bedding a spectacle-wearing clerk, brawny stable hand, or handsome footman.”
“I’m not sure anything can surprise me anymore.”
Delilah laughed, and they walked to the costume room. In no time at all, he wore an ensemble of dark brown trousers and jacket, plain waistcoat, linen shirt, woolen scarf, soft cloth cap, and a pair of spectacles that he had to peer over to see through.
“See?” she said, beaming. “This afternoon, you are not a duke but a senior clerk. And your name is…”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Benn…er, I mean Ben. Ben the clerk. That’s me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ben. Let us away on our adventure.”
Bennett could scarcely believe his own startling behavior: dressing in costume to go shopping with a pleasure club madam in Cheapside. And yet it was exciting, too. Like a lad forgoing class to meet a pretty girl or drink in a tavern, he would have an afternoon’s respite from being himself.
As Delilah promised to deliver him and his purchases home, he sent his own carriage on its way and instead climbed into hers. To protect her privacy it lacked any adornment or crest on the outside, but just like the Temple, it was well-appointed inside with cream leather squabs, dark brown velvet curtains, polished wood, and hot bricks at their feet. Even better, the three-mile distance from Golden Square to Cheapside gave him ample time to admire the way Delilah’s woolen pelisse and gown lovingly outlined her breasts and hips. He could easily imagine her reclining against the squab, her gown rucked up to her waist and her hand between her legs. Perhaps sitting astride him, rubbing her wet center against his cock.
Give over, Ben the clerk.
You want to set Delilah on her hands and knees and take her from behind, rough and hard and deep, the way you accidentally saw that village lad take his lass in the tack room of the stables when you were at Cambridge. Him so dominant, biting her neck and pinching her nipples as he thrust, and her moaning and whimpering, begging for more…
Bennett stifled a groan and shifted uncomfortably on the leather squab. Of course those rakish thoughts had returned with a vengeance when he couldn’t turn away or disguise his body’s reaction.
Three whole miles.
This would officially be the longest carriage ride ever.
Chapter 4
The way Tunbury—or should that be Ben the clerk—regarded her the entire journey had almost been a story in itself. Sometimes he’d talked and even smiled a little before lapsing into silent brooding, and other times his gaze flared with such heat it near scorched her clothing right off. So much so that watching him, learning a little more about how he saw the world—and how the world saw him—nearly distracted from the bittersweet emotions that always assailed her whenever she visited Cheapside.
Not quite though.
Prior to opening Delilah’s Temple, it had been her home. Where she’d been born and raised, from a humble but happy childhood with her mother and father; to desperate poverty in a shabby rooming house at age fifteen; to prosperous comfort in a spacious apartment above Archie’s shop at twenty-one, to a widow and orphan at twenty-two.
Indeed, some of the happiest times of her life yet also some of the very worst.
But whatever else happened, she would always love this wide, long street, forever bustling with carriages, horses, and people. To one end, the majestic St. Paul’s Cathedral with its towering dome. At the other end, the Royal Exchange and Bank of England. And in the middle, nestled around ancient St-Mary-Le-Bow church, everything else imaginable: food and drink, taverns, haberdashers, mercers, linen and wool drapers, shoe and bootmakers, watches, clocks, stationery, chairs and cabinets, even china and glass. Cheapside wasn’t just the city’s hub of trade and commerce, but also a place to find men of business, physicians, and lawyers as well.
As her carriage slowed to allow for the crowds and other carriages even in frigid weather like this, Delilah leaned forward and peered out the window, her heart clenching as they passed what had once been Archie’s shop. His eldest son—a man who hadn’t been at all pleased when his father wed a woman only a few years older than him—had sold it a few months after Archie’s death and moved to the Kentish countryside. But she’d made her peace with the Forbes family in their shared grief; and partly thanks to her widow’s portion, she had been able to open the Temple.
Tunbury cleared his throat. “You looked rather sad when we passed that shop. Was he a mercer by chance? Your late husband, I mean.”
She turned her head and nodded. “No one knew silks and velvets like Archie. I may well have been the best-dressed wife in Cheapside, but I owe him far more for what he taught me about business, especially negotiation and bargaining. He was much older, but very good to me. Kind and generous.”
In many ways she missed that most about marriage, having a constant companion. A lover she could find anywhere, at any time, but a husband to discuss business and other matters with over breakfast, to hold her close when the world got too overwhelming, and to cheer triumphs because they truly understood the sacrifice to achieve them…that was something quite different. True companionship required intimacy, a bone-deep understanding of one another, and a union of souls both precious and rare.
“I…miss my father a bit like that,” said Tunbury abruptly, looking perplexed, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said the words. “He was snatched by a terrible fever that raged across the county, and all the money in the world couldn’t save him. It happened so fast, here one day, gone the next. I was only fifteen, and like any son, I expected to be the heir for a good long while. Not the duke. I wasn’t ready. It was…distressing…”
His voice trailed off, then he pressed his fist to his mouth and stared out the window.
Torn between surprise at the halting yet heartfelt admission and deep sympathy at his loss, a loss she understood somewhat for she’d been the same age when her own father had died in the accident, Delilah stayed tactfully silent until he composed himself. “Tell me about him.”
“Hmmm. Excellent chess player but a terrible dancer. Bane of my mother’s life, or should I say her poor toes, because he simply couldn’t move in time to music. He taught me to ride and fence, and told jests in Latin to test my learning. The staff loved him. I believe at least half have been with the Innsworth family for more than two decades, well, if I can halt them leaving.”