The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(13)
Why did Maggie not dance any longer? She had loved to dance all those years ago. He knew because he had partnered with her at least once during every party. And each time he’d arrived to claim their set, her eyes had sparkled, a secret joke between the two of them—
The latch sounded and Adrianna burst through the door. Her long, brown hair swirled down her back, a black silk dressing gown covering her petite, but generously endowed, body. By the way her breasts bounced and swayed, it was clear she was naked under the thin fabric. Excellent. That would certainly expedite matters.
“Darling! I had no idea you planned to come tonight.” She crossed to the sofa and sat down, leaning over to kiss him. “Is something amiss? You know how I worry when you stray off your routine.”
He frowned. Was he so regimented, then? So predictable and boring? “Everything is fine. I was out nearby and thought I would see if you were home. Were you going out?”
“I have a late supper with friends, but I’m more than happy to cancel my plans.”
“No, it’s unfair of me to come unexpected. I was just in a mood.”
She lifted her brows and gave him a sultry smile. “Is that so? What kind of mood ? The kind of mood where I get on top and—”
He laughed. “You are incorrigible, you saucy wench. I’m only staying for the drink.” He finished the whisky and leaned forward to place the glass on the table. “I’ll see you this week. Tuesday, as always.”
Adrianna threw a leg over his waist, lifting her dressing gown to sit astride him. “Maybe I better give you a reason to come back, then.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her mouth on his, kissing him deep and hard. The soft, enticing weight of her heavy breasts rested on his chest. He felt his body begin to respond, so he gently put some distance between them.
“Tuesday,” he told her. “We’ll finish this on Tuesday.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said, grinding down on his growing erection. “Why don’t I suck you now? You know how much you love my mouth. I’m certain it won’t take long.”
He considered it. Adrianna was incredibly skilled. But every time he closed his eyes he saw midnight hair and flashing green eyes. Imagined it was Maggie on her knees, taking his cock between her luscious—
“I see you like that idea,” Adrianna purred, her clever fingers working their way to the buttons on his breeches.
He grabbed her hand. “Not tonight. Not if you’re on your way out.” And definitely not when all he could think about was Maggie.
What in God’s name was wrong with him? He’d never been distracted by thoughts of another woman while enjoying Adrianna’s charms. Ever. However, Maggie kept invading his brain, even at the most inopportune moments. He did not want Adrianna; he wanted another woman. Craved her with every molecule in his body.
No doubt there were other men in London likely experiencing the very same reaction.
“Fine.” Adrianna pouted, regaining his attention. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, then.” She kissed him once and then stood up. Not that he’d expected her to argue, but her easy acceptance had him frowning. Was she so eager for him to leave? When he’d first set her up in this small house, they had enjoyed many evenings together, but over the last six months he’d settled into a pattern of twice weekly visits. He hadn’t given a thought about what she did on those other five nights.
Smoothing down her dressing gown, she added, “I best get to it. It will take some time to finish dressing.”
A rap on the front door sounded. Simon heard Lucy, the maid, hurry down the hall. A single male voice drifted through the walls. Adrianna’s eyes darted to his face and Simon registered the guilt there.
“You’re not going out, are you?”
Her fingers twined in the loops of her dressing gown, and she swallowed. “No,” she said, quietly.
He sighed. “Hell.”
The sun peered out from behind a large cloud just as Maggie entered the park. She’d offered many times to host these meetings at her own house, but her companion staunchly refused. As if Maggie gave a whit for propriety. Besides, did anyone truly care with whom the Harlot associated with these days?
She had no trouble spotting the carriage. Though plain and without distinguishing marks, it was the only conveyance with the curtains drawn on such a lovely winter day. She slowed her mare, dismounted, and threw the reins to her groom.
The driver jumped to the ground at her approach. “Morning, my lady.”
“Good morning, Biggins. How’s her mood today?”
“Excitable, my lady,” he answered with a smile and opened the door. “But I am used to it.”
A volume of purple silk rustled as Maggie climbed inside.
“Quit complaining, you puppy. You have the easiest job in all of London,” the woman snapped and then gentled her voice. “Come in, my lady. Please, have a seat.”
The lamps in the carriage gave off a warm glow, revealing the delicate face of Pearl Kelly, London’s current reigning courtesan. Swathed in a resplendent violet morning dress and expensive jewelry, Pearl could easily have passed for nobility if one didn’t know her background. Born in the slums of London, she’d used her unparalleled wit and quick mind to make an illustrious name for herself.
She and Maggie had become friends of a sort. When Hawkins died, Maggie had moved back to London a much different woman. No longer a sheltered innocent, she now understood the difficulties women faced in a man’s world—especially those without money or family connections. She’d decided to help other fallen women, even if the label was earned. Women had so few choices in this world, a fact she understood better than most, so should she not try and help those less fortunate?