Two very different lives had collided and intertwined in the most wonderful way, but their time together could be nothing but a blissful memory. With only a few weeks left owning the Temple, business had to be the center of her world. Not Ben. No matter how much she missed him and their conversations, the shopping, and eating supper in front of the fire. Or how much she craved his kisses, his cock inside her, to scream with pleasure as he made her come…
“Ouch!” Delilah yelped as Naomi’s elbow gouged a hole in her ribcage. “What that was for?”
“You whimpered.”
Good grief.
“Beg pardon. Let’s continue over to the afternoon tea table and add some Wickham’s Confectionery calling cards. The matrons need an address to send their staff to after they’ve tasted your samples. Oh yes, and the latest news is most likely to be heard there.”
It took a quarter hour to cross the drawing room; several ladies greeted her and she introduced Naomi to them and praised her sweets to the sky. Ben’s generous purchase would stave off the creditors for a while, but her friend needed new customers and regular orders. As they both knew, signs and invitations were nothing compared to word of mouth for a business, especially at the speed that it travelled across London.
When at last they reached the table near-groaning with pastries and tarts, each poured a cup of tea with lemon, then added a selection of food to a plate. Delilah and Naomi didn’t speak, just ate while exchanging smiles and nods as they learned Lady Byron had birthed a daughter named Augusta Ada, Napoleon loathed his new accommodations on Saint Helena, and the latest Ackermann’s Repository included a bewildering array of floral detail on hems.
But Delilah’s smile dimmed as two more women joined them, loudly discussing ‘Humdrum Tun.’
“I was delighted when Humdrum accepted the ball invitation; you know how particular he is,” said the first with a smug smile. “There were only five names on the marriage list, this means he has all but settled on my Chloe for his future bride. We must move quickly and decisively though, get them married at once. I don’t trust those other girls not to try and force a wedding, even with a groom so cold and lacking in genial conversation. How often is there an English duke wandering about unwed?”
“Oh indeed, get them leg shackled without delay,” said the other woman, sipping her tea. “It adds a certain cache to have a duke in the family. And unlike some peers, Tun’s actually wealthy, almost vulgarly so. I hope you ordered Chloe a low-cut gown that tears with little encouragement, and she’s well-versed in turning an ankle or being discovered in a library with her hair disheveled.”
“Naturally! One does what one must to land the biggest fish, and there is none bigger than His Grace. Chloe can always seek amusement elsewhere after she’s done her duty.”
“A most civilized arrangement.”
Rage boiled through Delilah, and she set down her teacup before it shattered in her hand. The way these women spoke about Ben! Not a man, just a walking, talking, titled bank account. They didn’t know that he cared about others, possessed a dry sense of humor, and could eat sweets by the plateful. Or that he’d been able to shrug off the chains of his trustees’ influence and learn all sorts of splendid skills. This Chloe wouldn’t invite intimate conversation over an informal parlor supper, or welcome him into her bed for hours of sensual bliss. She wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t understand his painful past and mind him properly…
“Dee,” muttered Naomi, tugging on her arm. “You are hissing like a boiling kettle, but a drawing room is never the right place for a bloodbath. We should leave.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Taking a deep breath to calm her temper, Delilah permitted her friend to escort her back to the carriage. She couldn’t have managed alone; not seething with righteous indignation and jealousy.
“Oh hell,” she mumbled, when they were settled inside and the carriage began to move. “I think I might have tender feelings for Ben.”
Naomi smiled. “Indeed? I’m very relieved, after you locked yourself away for so long.”
“I wasn’t locked away, just busy,” said Delilah with a frown.
“You have twenty staff, lovie. You choose to oversee everything yourself.”
“It’s my business. No one cares about success or failure of it as much as I do. And I don’t have a Wickham at my side to share the burden with.”
Naomi leaned forward and took her hand. “Because you’ve never allowed a lover close enough to try. But His Grace is different, isn’t he? Free tour of the Temple, supper for two, a shopping excursion…and don’t lie to me, I wager you know exactly what he looks like naked.”
She sighed in defeat. “Magnificent. In every way. But afterward I said all the wrong things and told him to leave rather than inviting him to stay. I think I hurt him, which I regret. And I hurt myself, for now I can’t stop thinking about him. All the damned time.”
“Delilah Marie Forbes, for an intelligent woman, you are behaving like a complete henwit. Just apologize! Write a groveling note. Send sweets. Offer to dress up or paint him or suck his cock. But do something. You’ve never been a woman who sits back and waits. Don’t start now.”
Delilah smiled morosely. If only it were that easy.
But everything felt different with Ben. With tender feelings involved, and that rampant lust as well, every step seemed a higher risk with a greater chance of failure. They were similar in a surprising number of ways, yet the gulf between a pleasure club madam and a duke might be too wide.
She had risked a great deal to start the Temple. Did she dare risk her heart?
Lord and Lady Nawton’s ball was probably a good indicator of his future life; stern approval by stuffy old men, those his own age slyly thumping his shoulder and calling him ‘Tun’, a beautiful, well-mannered lady standing next to him that he didn’t love and who didn’t love him, both assessing how they could discreetly drift apart.
Bennett finished his brandy, just for something to do. He should have declined the invitation rather than accepting because the Nawtons were related to Lord Hurst and Lady Chloe Nawton sat atop the marriage list. In truth, one thing had become obvious: after the events of the past few weeks, a society marriage was not for him. Now he’d had a taste of passion and companionship, of the freedom in asking questions and discovering his true self…he couldn’t return to the dour, stifling cage of his former existence. He wanted a wife who he cared about and who cared about him in return. Friends he liked and admired, not those judged appropriate by others.
“How do you find the brandy, Your Grace?”
He forced himself to smile at Lady Chloe. The host’s daughter had practically planted herself next to him the moment he’d walked in the door, but he saw no lust or affection or even shy excitement in her eyes. The young lady danced attendance on him only because she’d been instructed to do so. “Quite tolerable, thank you. I’m just contemplating another.”
“Oh! Papa keeps the best vintage in his library. Would you like some of that?”
“You are very kind, but I’ll just accept one of these,” he replied, wanting to hug the footman who passed by at that moment with a full tray, much to Lady Chloe’s visible dismay.