Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(37)
He wanted to put his fist through the wall, but he’d already tried that and it hadn’t helped at all. No, he would head upstairs and find a willing woman to master. The control necessary in such situations always restored him.
“Sit.” Ruby’s voice pulled him back from his dark thoughts.
“You know I don’t take commands well.”
“Would you please sit for a moment? You don’t visit for a month and then you come to me like this. What has happened to the Geoffrey that I know so well?”
With some reluctance, he moved to the chair she gestured to. “I told you, I am getting married. Does a man need more excuse than that to feel the noose tightening about his neck?”
“Some men perhaps no, but you? Yes, Geoffrey, you need more reason. I worry that this mood of yours is because of the favor I asked. A favor I have yet to repay. I thought you would enjoy the lady and the adventure of the night, but …”
“No. It is not about her. She was one more woman in a long line of women.” Yet even as he said the words he knew they were not true. There had been nothing about her that was like any other woman he had known. But she had refused a further relationship, and so it was over. He would not beg Ruby for more information. A child cried for toys he could not have; a man found something else to desire, to work for, to strive for. “It is my father. He is playing his games and leaving me to tidy up as always. I am weary of it.”
“I am glad that I play no part in your discontent. I did intend that night to bring nothing but pleasure—for both of you.” Ruby came and sat across from him. “Now, tell me about this planned marriage. Perhaps I can help. I do know your tastes.”
He pushed back to his feet. “That is not what I want in a wife. A wife is very different than a …” He struggled for the appropriate word.
“Than a mistress, than a lover—than a whore? Is that what you really mean? You can say it, Geoffrey. I take no offense. I know well what I am, what my girls are, what we were all born to be.”
“No, that’s not what I mean, and you know that, Ruby. I simply mean a wife is different. I want something different for the mother of my children than I want in my bed. Is that so odd?”
“Not at all.” Ruby looked down. “Many men think in such a way, have no imagination for what life could be. I just had hoped for more from you.”
Her words cut, although he could not pretend to understand. Just as she could not understand. A man of his class, his responsibilities, needed a wife of certain qualities, and they were not the qualities necessary for a good f*ck. “I think I will retire upstairs. You are correct: I do need to relieve some tensions, before I say things I do not wish to.”
“The Countess is here. Are you in such a mood? She has been quite disappointed that you have not been available recently. And she is not a woman who takes disappointment well. Someone always pays for her displeasure—although some of my clients do not seem to mind.” Ruby’s voice held no trace of her thoughts, although he knew she held no fondness for the Countess.
“The Countess?” He thought of the tall, elegant woman who liked to inflict pain as well as receive it. Her one rule was that she liked to play at the extremes. Briefly he had found excitement in such games, but that had faded as he’d realized the savagery that existed beneath the pale skin—and just how far she would go seeking her thrills. “No, I am in the mood for something a trifle softer. Is there anybody new visiting? Anybody more petite?” He wished he could take the last question back. He had never before cared for small women and did not want Ruby reading too much into his words.
“Try the second door in the left hallway. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, but I imagine you’ll think of something. She is uncomfortable with what she wants and feels a need for punishment. I am sure you will be creative and yet not too harsh. She is quite new to the game.”
Without another word, he nodded and left. Yes, that sounded like just what he needed.
Chapter Twelve
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Louisa stood outside the large town house and took that last breath of fresh air, that last breath of freedom.
It seemed symbolic that the moment she walked through the door the very quality of the air would change, would become hot and heavy, filled with the smell of too many people, too much food, too many flowers. Even the smell of the beeswax candles would be pervasive and unpleasant. She hadn’t put on her own scent this evening, knowing that even the fresh scent of lemons would only add to the strong odor.
She tightened her hands into fists, squeezing as tightly as she could and then releasing. Despite her efforts her hands were shaking, and she glanced down at them, remembering standing before that other door a month ago.
If she’d made it through that door she could make it through this one.
It wasn’t as if she’d never been to a ball before. She’d been to dozens and dozens of the blasted things. Of course, she’d never gone to one in direct pursuit of a husband—she’d known she was destined for John long before she’d danced her first quadrille. But countless women attended them every day seeking matrimony. Surely it could not take that much bravery.
And hadn’t Lady Perse had suggested that this was the perfect place to start her search for a husband?