Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(2)

Did she have cream on her mouth? Her tongue darted out and then back. Seeing Madame’s gaze grow even more focused, she brought the tiny linen napkin to her mouth.

Madame laughed again, a deep, low chuckle. “John always did say that you had unexpected depth, and perhaps he was right.”

John had talked about her—here? The thought was horrifying. It had been bad enough to know that her husband came regularly to such a place; it was unbelievably mortifying to think that he might have discussed her. And Madame Rouge called him John? Louisa had always thought she was the only one with that privilege. Everyone called him Brookingston.

“John talked about me?”

“You were the most important thing in his life. It was why it was necessary for me to refuse to help with your last request. Your husband was a good man. He wanted only the best for you.”

“Mortified” did not begin to cover the feeling those words evoked. “Then why …?” She could not finish the sentence. Her eyes fell to her lap to escape Madame’s knowing look.

“Then why did your husband not wish you to help with his needs? Why did I refuse to help you learn what he required?”

“Yes.” Louisa could barely hear her own answer.

Madame released a long sigh and lifted her delicate cup from the table. Louisa heard her sip at the tea but could not look up. Those two questions had tortured her for years, both during her marriage and after. Why could John not have let her be his wife in all ways? What had been wrong with her? Was she so unattractive? So undesirable to a man?

The cup rattled as Madame put it down. “Your husband loved you.”

“I know.” Finally Louisa looked up. “Then why …”

“He wanted only the best for you.”

Louisa had no answer for that. How could it have been the best for her that her husband came here instead of seeking out the marital bed—no, that was not quite fair. He had slept with her—but only slept. He’d even held her in his arms on lonely nights. But his hands had never strayed beyond the mildest of caresses.

“Do you know what happened to your husband in the war?” Madame’s voice surrounded her.

“Of course I do. He lost a leg, and most of his comrades. He had nightmares for years, until the day he died.”

Another loud sigh. “Did you ever see his wounds?”

An image filled Louisa’s mind of the long scar that had run down her husband’s chest, then dipped beneath the band of his trousers. And his leg. His poor leg. She’d seen his stump once, raw and swollen, but she’d never forgotten. “Yes. Of course. I was his wife.”

“I must be blunt. Did you ever see your husband without his trousers? Did you ever see him in the entirety?”

“I, uh, he chose to wear a nightshirt.”

“Did you ever see him in the bath or getting dressed?”

“No, John preferred that only his valet be present for such moments.”

“Did you ever wonder why?”

“I thought it was just the way things were. Certainly nobody but my maid has ever seen me … seen me without my clothes.” She knew she must be redder than a beet. A conversation such as this had never even entered her mind when she’d arranged this meeting, but perhaps it should have.

“Do you know what happens between men and women—know about marital relations, about mating, about sex?”

Had Madame really just used that word? Louisa must have heard it someplace before. She did know what it meant. But she could not imagine its actually passing a woman’s lips. “Yes.” She sounded hoarse. “I grew up in the country. The livestock are not always discreet. And my mother explained things before my wedding.” And hadn’t that been a conversation she’d hoped to never have again!

“John was not able to perform as most men—or as most livestock do. His wounds damaged more than his leg.”

“Oh, I see.” She bowed her head again, with embarrassment, but more at the pain of finally knowing this harsh truth about her dear husband. Why had John never talked to her, let her comfort him? She could only imagine how great his anguish must have been. She became even more determined to guard his secrets well.

“I see your distress, my lady, so let me gently tell you that your husband was capable of receiving pleasure, but not by any method that a lady would engage in. And he was not capable of fathering children. He could not come.”

“Could not ‘come’?” She might know the meaning of sex, but what did Madame mean by “come”? Louisa looked up. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I hate ignorance.” Madame’s exclamation was loud and angry.

“I am sorry.” Could this get any worse? If she wasn’t careful she was going to cry, and that might be the most embarrassing thing of all—worse than any of this discussion.

“No, I am sorry, child. It is not you I am angry with, but society. But that is not a topic for this moment—or, indeed, ever.” Madame’s voice gentled. “A man comes when he reaches completion. Another word is ‘climax’—or ‘orgasm.’ No. You don’t know those either. Do you know that a man plants his seed within a woman and that is how children are conceived?”

Louisa nodded.

“And you know the parts of the body involved. The penis. The vagina.”