Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(126)

“Don’t call him that.” The words were out before she could pull them back. Why was she defending the man? It was true that she didn’t like him, not anymore. He always made her feel uncomfortable, like butterflies were brushing her with their wings—all over.

“It’s your name for him,” Angela replied, defensive.

“Yes, but that was years ago. I should never have told you.”

“You had to.” The tiniest hint of smile lifted Angela’s cheeks. “You had to explain that you gave everyone nicknames after you called me Angel.”

The story was an old one, but it brought a hint of warmth to Bliss’s chilled heart. “Yes, but you still shouldn’t call him that here. What if someone heard?”

“What do you care? You love a bit of scandal. And besides, it suits him so well. He is such a dull, dull don.”

If only Angela weren’t correct that the name suited him so well. He might be attractive, perhaps too attractive, but he must be the dullest man alive. All he cared about was his estates and his horses. And he didn’t talk about either with any degree of warmth. She doubted the man had a warm bone in his entire body. He certainly never looked warmly at her, at least not in years, not since … But she wasn’t going to think of that.

A shiver took her at the thought. Even thinking about the man made her uncomfortable. She’d like to blame it on Swanston’s marriage plans, but she knew better. Ever since she’d left childhood behind, her stomach tensed when Duldon was around.

How could her brother even think that marriage between them would be suitable?



Stephan Perse, Lord Duldon, rolled on his side as the clock on St. Michael’s tower sounded the hour. He counted the tolls as he ran a finger down one of the fine red welts marking the woman’s bare back. Eleven bells.

A slow sigh escaped between his teeth. Normally such a night’s work would have left him satisfied, but tonight he felt strangely empty.

The woman rolled her hips, inviting further play. Almost perfunctorily, he raised a hand and gave her a hard swat. Her ass stretched back as a happy moan sounded. Blast. He knew every move to make, but felt no actual desire. It had been this way for far too many days—weeks or months, if he was honest.

The woman turned toward him, heavy breasts falling forward, nipples still swollen from the evening’s play inviting his touch. A slight smile curved her lips beneath the silken mask she wore. “And how may this humble servant serve you further, master?” Her eyes dropped to where the thick linen of the sheet draped his waist.

Her tongue darted out wetting already moist lips.

Eleven.

Eleven bells.

Shit. He was late.

He’d promised his aunt he’d attend the Evanstons’ soiree. And his aunt, Lady Perse, was not one to be disappointed—plus there was always the possibility that Bliss would be there. He pushed the thought from his mind.

Without a word, he swung from the bed, reaching for his trousers. If he hurried he would make it before the call to dinner. Luckily, Lady Evanston believed in a truly late dinner. Lady Perse would understand. A gentleman could not be expected to arrive too early.

“You’re leaving now?” The woman did not sound happy.

“I am sorry. I must.” He laid a careless kiss upon her shoulder.

She pushed herself up, her breasts almost slapping his chest. “Don’t you want to punish me more? I’ve been a very bad maid. I haven’t completed work.” Her hand reached for his trousers.

He pushed her hand away. Couldn’t they ever be original? He knew it was all a game, his partner was no more a servant than a lion was a house cat, but some days he tired of all the pretense, wanted something real, something true.

Why couldn’t a single one of them admit what they wanted without masks and foolery? He knew the answer to that question. It wasn’t as if he walked about admitting to his own desires, but …

“You can’t leave. I am not ready,” the woman complained, her lips forming an unattractive frown.

Now that was more in character with her real identity.

“Sorry.” But actually he wasn’t. It was as much a relief as anything. “I’ve paid Madame Rouge for the room. You can stay until morning if you wish, perhaps seek another companion.” He draped his untied cravat about his neck.

And then he slipped through the door, his thoughts moving on to the coming night, the woman already forgotten.



Bliss stared about the Evanstons’ ballroom one more time. Surely it must be nearly time for dinner. If she didn’t receive her invite soon …

“I still can’t believe what you’ve said.” Angela was not going to let their previous conversation go. “Your brother knows you better than that, and since Swanston married Louisa he’s seemed almost human. You need somebody who enjoys a bit of fun. There must be a dozen lords you could marry.”

Bliss kept her head turned away from her friend’s far too penetrating gaze. She did want somebody fun—not that she wanted to marry at all. Why couldn’t they all just leave her alone to live her life as she wished? Nobody was dependent on her. Her grandmother had left her more than enough funds in trust to be sure that she was never a burden. If only she were a few years older she would buy her own home and settle far away from everybody, perhaps somewhere in the country where nobody would be watching—particularly not a certain disapproving earl who lived next door to the family estate, an earl she could not seem to push from her mind. Not that she wanted the boredom of the country, not yet. She had far too many adventures to have first, too many things she wanted to know, to try. The few days she’d spent with Lady Ormande had left her eager for experience.