Page 146 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“Six-and-ten. He was younger and we were fortunate that he and his mates were more mortified than we were.” She paused and then couldn’t help asking, “When did you first see a woman without clothing?”

He made a thoughtful humming sound. “I must have been fourteen. It was certainly before I turned fifteen because that is when the old duke finally gave in to my nagging and bought me a commission.”

“That is so young!”

He shrugged.

“What happened?” she asked.

“What happened?” he repeated blankly.

“Yes. Where was she when you saw her?”

“Beneath me in bed.”

Stacia gasped and then twisted in his arms.

“What are you doing? I was comfortable,” he complained petulantly when she turned until she could see his face, their bodies no longer touching.

“You were with a woman when you were only fourteen?”

“Yes.”

“Who—who was it?”

He lifted one eyebrow at her.

“I just meant, was it—it wasn’t a servant, was it?”

An expression of distaste flickered across his face. “What do you take me for? The sort of cad who foists himself on powerless women?”

“No. Of course not,” she said. “I am sorry if I implied that. It is just that we once engaged a maid who’d been molested by her employer—a man I saw dozens of times during my London Season. Nobody would hire her because he had so blackened her name. My father believed her rather than her employer. He said some aristocratic men thought that everyone who lived in their home belonged to them—like their dogs and horses.”

“Your father was right. But my uncle would have beaten his sons—or me—if we’d ever been inclined to such behavior.”

“So…then who was the woman?”

He grinned at her. “So curious! Why is that?”

“I told you about my first time,” she retorted, even though she knew it was hardly the same.

But it seemed her argument convinced him, because he said, “It was the old duke’s mistress.”

Her jaw dropped. “But—but—”

“You sound like hen. Bock! Bock!”

She ignored his teasing, so many questions roiling inside her head it was hard to know what to ask first. “How old was she? And why would she do such a thing?”

“I have no idea how old she was. As to the why? I can only assume the duke had irked her in some way.” He smirked. “Or she simply could not resist my male beauty.”

“You were a child!”

“I was an ignorant, horny young lad.” He grinned. “And when I returned to school, I was a very well-respected, not-quite-so-ignorant, swaggering lothario.”

“Shame on you! I thought a gentleman did not share such details.”

“I was a callow youth. Besides, it wasn’t me who let it slip but Sylvester.”