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Oh, dear God, please end this now before his drunken arse ruins it.
Her days of being a glorified whore were nearly over. No longer would she have to do things she didn’t wish to do merely for a man’s pleasure or because she needed the coin or his protection. She ignored the earl’s words and instead narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you should get on with it so these people can go home.”
“Right.” He peered at the minister. “What were those words again, old chap? Forgot. M’ mind’s fuzzy.”
In some annoyance, the older man repeated that most holy of statements.
Laughton nodded. He removed his signet ring and then slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “With this Ring I thee wed, with m’ Body I thee worship.” The bounder winked at her. “You know how I do.” Then he snickered before finishing the rest. “And with all m’ worldly Goods I thee endow.” He belched and thumped on his chest while the stench of brandy soured the air. “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
“How romantic.” A heavy dose of sarcasm hung in her voice.
The minister cast her a look of pity. Thank goodness the light was low in the room, for perhaps he couldn’t see the blush of fury in her cheeks or the anger that was surely present in her eyes. “Let us end the ceremony with a prayer.”
Lavinia nodded. “We shall no doubt need it.” Since she had her doubts that if the earl knelt right now, he wouldn’t be able to rise again, she bowed her head, not bothering to listen to the words the older man said that should have soothed.
At the conclusion of the prayer, the minister sighed. He glanced between them. “I now pronounce thee husband and wife.”
“And my work is just beginning.”
The earl shot her a loopy grin. “Congr… congrsh…” He shook his head. “Com’on, Lady Laughton.” The earl jostled her elbow. “Must sign registry.”
As much as she rubbed along well with him, she nearly despised him at the moment. He’d set out to destroy himself and his position within the ton. Drunk or not, he should have known better. But there was no use worrying about it now. She hoped the Duke of Bradford wouldn’t call him out and then put a ball through his heart on a dueling field. Regardless of whether it was illegal, the duke would exact revenge.
Seconds later, their signatures were dashed upon the registry, the clerk signed as a witness, as did both the earl’s friends, and then the deed was done. Not long after that, she was left alone in the drawing room with her new husband and promises of Lords Randolph and Saintfort to call in a few days.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Laughton.” In high dudgeon, she led the way from the room, not caring if he was too foxed to make it up the stairs.
“Usually am.” Of course he kept pace with her. He’d always been able to hold his liquor. However, a couple more glasses might send him into a blackout. “Now I intend to pleasure you.”
“I have my doubts. When you are in this state, your skills are nonexistent.” Since she’d been his mistress over the past year, he’d let his guard down like this twice before, and each time was ushered in by him remembering how life had been with his wife.
As if she—Lavinia—had never existed and he’d never appreciated her presence in his life.
“I’ll show you.”
If history was a guide, he’d pass out before too long, and she’d once more be left to her own devices. The only difference this time being she needn’t go home to her own townhouse. By rights, this was her new residence. She’d been there enough times to know there was a separate suite at the end of the hall from his, set aside for a countess in the event the couple didn’t wish to sleep in the same bed. That’s where she would put down her roots, and if Laughton objected, he could bloody well fight her over it.
By the time they reached his rooms, he’d apparently worked himself up into a right proper state of arousal. He caught her into his arms and claimed her lips in a singularly sloppy kiss. Lavinia only tolerated it since there might be the chance he could perform admirably in bed, but the lingering scent of brandy turned her stomach.
“Can’t wait to see the duke’s face at the wedding breakfast when I tell ‘im I already fucked his daughter.” More than a few of the words were slurred. He tugged down her bodice, easily freeing her breasts from the fabric. After all, he was good at what he did, for he hadn’t been celibate since his wife had died.
A little shiver edged down her spine, for she did enjoy coupling with him. He could usually make her fly at least twice, sometimes more in each session if he were determined enough. Yet his words gave her pause. “The duke is not my father, Percival.”
“Don’t care.” He took her breasts in his hands, kneaded him while rubbing the tips into hard peaks with his thumbs. “You’re here now. And you are mine.” When he rolled the nubs and a moan escaped her throat, he gave her a goofy grin.
Oh, there were times when he was as powerful and as arrogant as his title demanded, and it carried over into who he was in the bedroom. She enjoyed that man as much as she did when he let her have control, but tonight he was a foul-smelling mess. When she attempted to squirm out of his reach, he walked her backward, and at the edge of the bed, he kissed her again. A wet, clumsy kiss that spoke to his inebriation instead of skill. Lavinia returned the kisses as best she could, but it was an unpleasant endeavor at best.
Eventually, he returned to pleasuring her breasts, and that was an equally slobbery affair. “Need you, Nia.”
It was unfortunate he remembered who she was now instead of a half hour past. The scandal that was still to come could have been avoided. She finger-combed his hair away from his brow. “Perhaps we should wait until you have a clear head.”
“No. It’s our wedding night. Bad form not to.” He fumbled at the buttons of his frontfalls. When his stiffened length fell out, he reached for her again.
“Not without a sheath. You know that.” It was one of her rules with every man she’d been with since that unfortunate incident some years ago. Diseases abounded within the ton, as did unwanted pregnancies that destroyed the abilities of women like her to earn an income. When he appeared confused, she sighed, stepped around him, and then opened a drawer in a bedside table. Inside was a thin rectangle box. Inside were two lambskin sheaths and a few satin ribbons. “Let me do this for you.” It was doubtful he had enough wits to implement it successfully even if he could maintain an erection.
“Want to feel you.” He pouted as if he were a routed youth.
“Not tonight.” Lavinia knelt. His shaft bobbed. The dratted man took himself in hand, tapped his tip to her lips, but she shook her head. That wasn’t a part of her position she enjoyed even when he was in the best form. Firmly and with efficient movements, she maneuvered the sheath along his length and tied it off with a ribbon so it wouldn’t slip. Once she stood, she cupped his cheek. “You won’t remember much of this night. Are you sure you want to do this?”
