He drew up over her and felt like a rutting animal.
Lois ran her fingers over his beautiful face. "A long time without a woman, my lord?"
"Too bloody long," he said, and moved away from her. "Forgive me, Lois. I will not use you thus again." He began to dress, then turned to look down at her. He realized another reason he'd picked her was the size of her breasts. They were huge and round, her nipples large, a dusky color. He swallowed, knowing he was a fool, but not about to admit it, even to himself.
Lois regarded him as he dressed in front of the fireplace. He was magnificent, his body big and hard, and she knew from experience that this man would treat her well. There had been no perversion in him, merely immense hunger. The fire light danced in his chestnut hair, touching the strands with gold. Yes, she was indeed pleased with him.
He finally left her to make arrangements for a maid and a cook. Her small apartment was tucked just off Curzon Street. He discreetly left fifty pounds for her on the dressing table on his way out.
When he returned to the Saint Leven town house in Portsmouth Square, a monstrosity built by his grandfather, another summons awaited him. Too tired to do more than shake his head, he told his man, Kenworthy, to inform her ladyship that he had the ague. Then he chuckled to himself.
Kenworthy, a slight, bald man of middle years, and a valet of great capacity and loyalty, simply nodded, then watched with some concern as his master took himself upstairs to his bed.
"Ague!" Lucia muttered, studying the valet's stone face. "That is nonsense and you know it! Now, tell me what your master is up to, Kenworthy."
"The ague, my lady," he repeated with bland fortitude. "His lordship will call on you as soon as he leaves his bed."
"Oh, bosh!"
When Didier removed Kenworthy from Lady Cranston's august presence, Diana snorted. "Ridiculous! He is malingering and I don't care. We do not need him, Aunt. Let him take care of Charlotte's nasty gossip himself! Let him ---"
"Hush, my dear. We do need him, at least we need his escort and his marvelous arrogance. However, I suppose he will come when he is ready to."
Diana nearly discovered the truth that afternoon when three old cronies of Aunt Lucia's were sipping endless cups of tea in the drawing room, shredding the younger generation with tuts, sighs, and headshakes punctuated with "deplorable," "such a shame for their parents," and the like.
"And of course when I heard what your dear Lord Saint Leven was doing, Lucia, I knew I must tell you immediately."
The seemingly reticent lady was a formidable dragon with tight gray sausage curls, a scrwny body, and a brain as tough as steel.
Diana, dismissed before these very interesting confidences were uttered, waited just outside the drawing-room door, all ears.
Lucia, who hadn't heard a word about Lyonel other than the ague, sat forward, willing to receive information even from the odious Agatha Damson.
"and so my maid heard it from her cousin's niece whom Lord Saint Leven hired to see to his, ah"
"May I do something for you, miss?"
Diana could have spit with vexation, but she forced a smile for Didier. He knows I'm eavesdropping, she thought.
She looked him straight in the eye. "You have caught me, Didier, but you see, they are talking about Lyonel, and I want to know what is going on."
"You are a young lady," Didier announced in the repressive tones of an archbishop.
"You know and you will not tell me."
"Correct, miss."
"You are being most unfair, Didier."
"Yes, miss. Would you care for some tea?"
"No. I shall just have to find out for myself, won't I?"
Didier blanched and Diana smiled.
"I shall speak to my lady," he said. "You, miss, would be well advised to retire to your bedchamber."
Diana's eyes glittered. "On the contrary," she said, "I believe I shall go for a walk."