“Why? Do you turn into an ogre at the stroke of midnight? Conceal bodies in the wine cellar?”
Tunbury’s lips twitched, and he peered over his spectacles at her. “No bodies, although this humble clerk may have a few skeletons in the closet. In truth, there were some…issues between the household and my former trustees in regard to…approved expenditure.”
A flash of fury jolted through Delilah, and she barely suppressed a scowl. So, not only had these wretched trustees made the young duke feel ashamed about his body and pleasure, they’d also caused trouble by withholding money? Especially after Tunbury’s father had been a generous employer? Whoever these men were, she would bundle them up and heave them into the Thames or perhaps send them over to Theresa for a good green nettle birching. Bloody bastards. It did say something of Tunbury’s character though, that he was attempting to atone for actions undertaken on his behalf. “Ah. Hence the baskets.”
“Hence the baskets,” he said, nodding. “I do appreciate your kind assistance. It is…not easy admitting to others you know nothing of a topic. But I wanted to do this myself. To learn more about how the world turns outside the ducal gates.”
“I personally believe,” whispered Delilah, leaning forward to take his hand and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in the way he seemed to like, “that those who value learning should be taught everything they wish to know.”
Tunbury’s eyes grew heavy lidded. “Do you indeed, madam?”
“Oh yes. So first, with your approval, I will demonstrate how to purchase household items and cloth. Then, I’ll escort you to the finest confectioner in London for sweets. But after that…there is a three-mile journey home.”
“Three miles,” he murmured. “But there are a great many things I wish to learn, and I’m not sure if that will be sufficient time. I am a man who prefers to practice a new skill until he is quite, quite proficient at it.”
Delilah shivered as her pussy began to throb in earnest. If the carriage hadn’t slowed to a complete stop on the busiest thoroughfare in London, she might have spread her thighs for him then and there. Yes, the duke was a virgin, but she had the strong impression he would be a most diligent student. A student who wouldn’t be satisfied until he mastered a skill, dominated her utterly, and made her scream with pleasure…
Good grief. Calm yourself. There is no need to get carried away just because it has been months since you last had a lover in your bed.
“One step at a time, Your Grace,” she said archly. “I need to make a few purchases myself at the haberdasher and candle maker, then we’ll go to the linen-draper for your cloth. I hope you are prepared for a fast stroll, because my footmen are well used to marching behind me, even when weighed down with boxes and parcels.”
“More than prepared. Eager, in fact.”
Delilah rolled her eyes at the double entendre, but couldn’t help smiling. “A word of warning: be discreet with your money purse. Apart from the occasional tavern brawl Cheapside is a very safe place, however no street is entirely immune from a wily pickpocket.”
“Duly noted.”
After the carriage halted, a footman opened the door and unhooked the small step. Tunbury climbed out, then turned and offered his hand, and moments later they stood side by side amidst a crowd of men, women, and children, wrapped up warmly against the chill wind.
Delilah went up on her toes, inhaling deeply of the familiar sights and scents of her birthplace. “Well, Ben the clerk. I bid you a warm welcome to Cheapside.”
Observing Delilah shopping was a lesson in itself.
Bennett choked back a laugh as yet another shopkeeper fell prey to her most potent weapon: a steel trap mind for negotiation cunningly concealed behind a charming smile. The men never stood a chance, and yet for the entire transaction thought they held the upper hand until Delilah strolled out the front door with exactly the goods she wanted in exactly the quantity, for a much reduced price. Her footmen trailed behind them, already laden with ribbon in several colors, cards of lace, peacock feathers, six carefully wrapped fine china plates, and a large sack of beeswax candles that had been dyed for the festive season; cochineal for red and pink, saffron for yellow, indigo for blue, and spinach juice for green. To her delight and his dismay, the candle maker had also added scent, and their small procession smelled alarmingly like a walking apothecary’s stillroom.
She was a woman like no other, bold and clever and sensual. He could only count himself fortunate that her charity extended to him, for Delilah had even assisted with his own purchases. Back in the carriage, carefully guarded by the driver who had been bribed with hot meat pasties and a large mug of chocolate, were yards of crisp linen for new handkerchiefs, plain and patterned calico for dresses, and buckskin for breeches. Delilah had been a marvel, educating him on a fair price and what constituted good and sturdy fabric under the guise of asking his opinion, and now he stood ready to evolve from Ben the clerk to Ben the linen-draper.
All they had to do now was purchase sweets, then they would begin a quite different education on that three-mile journey back to Golden Square. Since she would accept no payment for her assistance, he wanted to learn exactly how she liked being pleasured to express his gratitude.
Shivering in the cold, Delilah curled her gloved hand around his upper arm. “The confectioner is just up here; around the corner onto Milk Street and about thirty paces down.”
Bennett nodded, doing his best to stroll and not run in the freezing temperature, even worse than when they’d left the Temple. Her comfortable carriage with those delightful hot bricks seemed a distant memory.
Outside an old gray stone building, a simple wooden sign said Wickham’s Confectionery. But inside, he stepped into a childhood fantasy: a brightly-lit paradise with wall to wall glass-topped cabinets filled to the brim with colorful sweets. God, the scent of the place! Never had he inhaled such a blissful mix of burnt sugar, bitter chocolate, and slow-cooked spiced fruit. How was this shop currently empty of patrons? How could anyone walk past and not be lured in to spend every last coin they could scrape together?
Delilah cleared her throat. “Ben.”
He blinked and straightened from where he’d been staring worshipfully at a tray of toffees shaped like bows, entirely appropriate with St. Mary-Le-Bow church so close. His shopping companion’s eyes positively glinted with amusement. “Yes?”
“May I present Mrs. Naomi Wickham, proprietor, and my oldest and dearest friend. Naomi, this is Ben—”
“Innsworth,” he said quickly, inclining his head as the neatly-dressed, pale-skinned redhead bobbed a curtsy. “Ben Innsworth. Forgive me, but I couldn’t help admiring your selection of sweets. Toffee, sugared almonds, lemon drops, licorice, caramels, and marzipan…”
“Yes, sir. Also sugar plums, butterscotch, Turkish delight, and candied fruit. Would you like to try some samples after I’ve taken out some chocolate for Delilah’s footmen?”
“Very much so.”
When the men outside were happily sipping mugs of steaming chocolate, Mrs. Wickham returned to the largest counter. Using some long metal tweezers, she carefully placed an assortment of sweets onto greased paper, and as the first tangy square of lemon-flavored marzipan melted in his mouth, Bennett’s leather money purse practically yanked itself open. But before he made his purchases, it would surely be dreadfully impolite to leave the sugar plum, hard caramel, toffee bow, and candied fruit resting on the paper, so he quickly ate them as well. Really, it was a good thing he’d already traded his best kept secret for a beefsteak. God only knew what he would have revealed for sweets such as these.