The rooms, done in Ford’s preferred gray tones, was in the family wing on the second floor, offset from the estate entrance. None of the guests were aware of their presence, which suited Evan just fine. He needed to save his energy to be the engaging host they all expected.
Evan kept a permanent suite of rooms for his friend, a bedroom with an adjoining room that had been converted to a workroom. As a second son of an earl, Ford did not have the bevy of estates to adjourn to in the off-season, and Greenborough Park was beyond large enough for them both.
Ford had built a custom tannery business around their shared interest, sex play and bondage between willing partners, and Evan had ensured the workroom at Greenborough Park had duplicates of almost every tool Ford had in London.
“Have you had time to visit with Mama yet?” Evan asked. Ford had been like a second son to Evan’s parents, often spending school holidays at the estate.
“I did this morning. She seems in good health.”
“Dare I ask? Did she remember you were coming? I told her yesterday.”
Ford’s lips quirked in an instant of sympathy as he shook his head in the negative.
“Ah, well, I suspect the parade of carriages will entertain her, and I shall sneak away as I can to check on her.” Another carriage pulled around the circular driveway, and Evan welcomed the diversion.
A tall, slim, dark-haired woman emerged, shaking out her modestly-cut forest green gown. He leaned forward, squinting. A ball of chestnut-haired energy rolled out of the carriage after her, the girl’s large bosom almost making an appearance from her noticeably less modest peach dress.
He’d been waiting for this duo. Or rather, the half that was Lady Althea Egerton. After he’d met her last year, he’d asked Michael about her. There were few titled ladies whom he had not yet met—or been pursued by, for that matter. She was the widow of a merchant and ran the shop after his death, which was rare. But that fact was nowhere near as intriguing as her discomfort at the Cyprian ball. Most surprising had been her mix of guilt and fascination as she watched a man enjoying a woman’s mouth on him in the upstairs hall of that party.
He’d put her from his mind as the Season wound to a close, focusing on Michael’s surprise betrothal to his mistress at that very ball. But he’d barely tolerated his house party after that Season, his third annual gathering.
Robert, Michael, and he had made it a tradition after throwing the first as an Oxford graduation celebration. It had seemed the perfect way to celebrate the end of each Season with the grueling paperwork and negotiations of the House of Lords done for the year and the men looking for new challenges.
Now, Evan had mastered the nuances of Parliament, the earldom, and the bedroom, Michael was married, and Ford hated parties. Evan should have cancelled this year’s but had hoped being at home would re-energize him. It hadn’t.
Then he’d received a note from Penelope, Michael’s countess and formerly a member of said demi-monde, asking him to invite Lady Althea and Beth. Across the bottom of the parchment, Michael had scrawled,I’ll owe you. Not that it was necessary. If any of the three of them needed something, they had only to ask the others. That extended to spouses-to-be.
Upon reading Lady Egerton’s name, his mind had immediately conjured the image of the tall lithe brunette beauty he had met a year ago. Beth had propositioned him that night, although he knew it was out of habit as much as true desire. She enjoyed sex in all shapes and forms and with as little attachment as possible, much as he did—well, used to. But Lady Althea had seemed out of place at that ball, her dark eyes wide as she turned and noted his regard, her ivory cheeks flushing red before she raced away.
So there had to be another reason these two ladies, Lady Althea in particular, were here at another demi-monde party, despite her obvious discomfort with them. He was willing to bet it wasn’t simply to assuage Beth’s libido. His jaded suspicion was that money was involved, which was particularly disappointing when this woman had sparked his interest more than any had in months.
Still, she might prove his only hope for enjoyment this week.
As the ladies disappeared into the house, he tilted his head. Did Althea know about Beth’s education at the School of Enlightenment? He made a mental note to find out who sponsored the little hellion.
Knowledge was valuable, and Evan made it his business to know as much of the Ton’s business as possible. Only then could he ensure his investment choices were sound and sometimes even one step ahead. So when a secret school for girls was being formed by several countesses and the headmistress of a charity school he already funded, Evan had sent a note to that headmistress to offer his support.
They’d determined that on the face of it, the school would best be run by women for women, although at least one other man, the Earl of Suffolk, was involved. He helped with funding and finding new teachers as needed. Evan preferred to remain a step removed, but he paid for the buildings they wanted to construct and ensured the landowner, the widow Helen Montague, received a generous stipend to stay on as headmistress.
Having a mother completely dependent on the goodwill of her heir due to an illness she could not control had turned him into the fiercest of protectors of women. He liked the way this school helped girls learn to protect themselves quietly, as a spy behind enemy lines might.
But Lady Egerton’s conservative demeanor did not lend itself to supporting a school teaching everything from money management to tipping the velvet. He tilted his head to the other side, debating. Or mayhap it did, given her shop ownership and sharing a house with Beth.
Spending a moment to wonder what those demure dresses hid, Evan’s boredom slipped away and his cock twitched in interest.Hmm. Mayhap I’ve found a playmate for this house party, even if she does not realize it quite yet.
Chapter Two
Althea tried to focus on the needlework in her lap and ignore her anxiety about her cousin’s whereabouts. Beth had wandered off after only a few minutes of sitting with the other ladies in the parlor. Even knowing how much Beth hated needlework, Althea would have preferred she read a book or something unlikely to offend their host, at least until she’d had a chance to present her expansion plan.
Given the size of the castle, Althea was not about to attempt to find the younger woman. She’d get lost. Having expected a manor home, brick and covered in ivy, they’d arrived to a gate with turrets of a stone tower in the distance beyond it. The fence had extended as far as the eye could see in both directions, leading Althea to wonder about just how many acres Lord Cheltenham owned.
At least their privacy was assured, given the nature of this particular party.
Althea stitched desultorily, half-listening to the gossip. She knew most of the names referenced in the conversation as clients. It never hurt to know more of the rest of their lives, to strengthen her relationships with her customers.
Finally, she could stand it no more. She poked her head out of the parlor. Her cousin stood lounging against the newel post of the grand staircase, watching servants rearrange furniture from two rooms that opened to each other, likely setting up for the evening activities.
Beth’s gaze was locked on one footman’s lower half with a look Althea recognized. Lust.
