Page 17 of To Tame a Wicked Widow

Sliding her fingernail under the wax, she flicked it away and opened the folded paper.

Lady Upcott,

A certain viscount has an appointment here at seven o’clock this evening. If you care about him as much as he does you, then may I suggest you arrive at six. The address is Number 4, Bedford Square.

Kindest regards,

Sally Yardley

Sucking in a harsh breath, Madeline stared at the baroness’ words until they blurred.

Ethan cared for her.

The news made her heart soar, especially after the unhappiness of the past week in this townhouse, culminating in the infuriating parlor conversation. For far too long she had been the dutiful daughter and older sister, while they behaved like damned barnacles. And to know that they would never change, they would always expect her to sacrifice all while they did nothing…well, no more. Because Ethan cared for her. And if she went to Sally’s, she might well be able to secure the kind of happiness she’d only ever dreamed about, if she could convince him that in truth, a wealthy, experienced, older man wasn’t right for her at all.

Madeline looked up at the messenger, almost dizzy with anticipation and nerves. “P-please tell Lady Yardley I accept her kind offer with grateful thanks, and will see her at the specified time.”

The lad bowed and ran from the house. Turning on her heel, Madeline made her way to the stairs.

There was much to do before six o’clock.

Chapter 5

“Good evening, Dare. Do come in.”

Ethan forced a smile and inclined his head toward Lady Yardley as he entered the sumptuous drawing room. “Good evening, Aunt Sally. Thank you for helping me with this favor when I don’t really meet your criteria anymore.”

She laughed, her silver-touched blonde curls bouncing. “Nonsense. I am devoted to your happiness. And that of your future wife. Besides, honing one’s skills in preparation to be a good husband can never be a bad thing. A blissful marriage bed is the cornerstone of a blissful marriage, in my humble opinion.”

He sighed inwardly. The likelihood of a blissful marriage with a woman other than Madeline seemed impossible, especially considering his established desire to dominate sexually, talk explicitly and use toys. The milk and water misses who had been at last night’s soiree would be horrified, and he’d never insist a woman did something she didn’t want to do. His only alternative was a subscription to one of the high-end London establishment that catered to diverse sexual tastes like the ‘nunneries’ in King’s Place, Miss Fawkland’s Temple of Flora and Temple of Mysteries in St. James’s Street, or the White House in Soho Square, but they were eye-wateringly expensive. The clubs also had another drawback: they were popular with aristocrats, diplomats, and politicians. Hell, with his luck, he’d probably bump into whichever rich, experienced lord Madeline married.

“Are you well, lad? The thought of a few hours of merry bedsport doesn’t usually turn clients green at the gills.”

“Of course,” said Ethan, straightening his shoulders. “Is the chamber ready?”

Sally gazed at him, her shrewd eyes far too knowing. “Just as you instructed. A lady with her hair covered, wearing a demi mask, in a low lit room…forgive me, but you’ll not forget her this way.”

He glared at the woman. “Beg pardon? Do you often question the requests of your patrons?”

“No,” said Sally, unruffled. “But my patrons usually ask for a voluptuous French dancer, or a brawny stable boy or a body decked in nothing but jewels. Occasionally wrists bound, or a special chair to accommodate a trio. Not to hide the identity of the other.”

“Perhaps anonymity is my fantasy. To bed a stranger and walk away.”

Her lips quirked. “Perhaps. I’ll take you to the room, then.”

They left the drawing room and walked up a wide, curved staircase to the second floor. Unlike his father’s overblown tastes, it was elegantly practical, with thick, colorful rugs, cream wallpaper, a few tasteful paintings, and carved mahogany furniture. At last, Sally stopped outside a room at the end of the hallway and unlocked the door.

By the gods, he was going to cast up his accounts.

What the hell is wrong? It’s just a fuck. And they will get easier…

Taking a deep breath, Ethan nodded at his hostess. “The lady is waiting? And willing?”

“Yes. Should you need anything further, do not hesitate to ring the bell-pull.”

And with that, Sally curtsied and strolled away.

Ethan swallowed hard and pushed open the door. After entering the room, he turned and studiously latched it shut behind him, just to buy another few seconds of time and allow his eyes to better adjust to the low light. Aunt Sally had indeed gone to a lot of trouble. The room resembled a desert tent, with muslin curtains draping from the roof, colorful rugs, silver trays of wine and delicacies, and rather than a bed, a very large satin-covered cushion in the center. Draped over the cushion was his lover for the evening. She wore a heavy veil covering her hair, a black demi-mask, and the lush curves of her breasts and hips were barely encased by a sheer linen sheath with one shoulder strap. Gold bracelets adorned her wrists. And yet…