Quickly moving down the street, he forced himself to think of something less arousing-or maybe something equally arousing but within his ability to control. Clarissa had said her husband was away from the city. Why not pay her a visit, restore his sense of equilibrium as it were-about fucking?
Redress his renegade tailspin into some manic craving.
Reestablish casual sex as an unimpeachable certainty in his life.
Good God, he thought, turning toward Hyde Park, he was in enough of a quandary that he was actually looking forward to having Clarissa storm and rage at him. Temporarily, of course. Then she’d turn sulky and pout, he’d cajole and flatter-he knew how to play the game. Eventually she’d begin to smile, and in due time she’d welcome him into her bed because her husband was old, she wasn’t, and her appetite for sex was voracious.
Chapter 21
A FREQUENT VISITOR of late when Lord Buckley was away from home, Fitz was welcomed by Eliot, the butler. “Is Lady Buckley in?” Fitz inquired, although he wouldn’t have been ushered in if she wasn’t.
“The mistress is resting.” A code of sorts.
Fitz handed over his gloves and cane. “I’ll see myself up.” He half turned as he reached the base of the stairs. “Lord Buckley is away? ”
“For a fortnight, Your Grace.” The duke was generous with his gratuities.
“Thank you. Some champagne when you have time.” Then Fitz took the stairs two at a time, goaded by a need to efface restive memory. Clarissa was safe, familiar-like him in her untrammeled approach to amour. And right now, he needed a reliable touchstone to the civility that passed for feeling in the fashionable world.
Reaching the door to her apartments, he walked into the sitting room unannounced. A maid was dusting Clarissa’s many bibelots scattered over the tabletops. “Lady Buckley won’t be needing you,” he politely said.
The young woman blushed, curtsied, darted for the door, only to turn at the last to watch Fitz stroll toward Clarissa’s boudoir. A small sigh escaped her; all the ladies on the staff were hoping the duke would take notice of them. He was known for his unrestricted hospitality toward women of all classes. Shutting the door behind her a moment later, she rushed toward the back stairs to share news of the duke’s visit with her female coworkers.
Unaware of the burning interest he generated in the female staff, Fitz paused at Clarissa’s bedroom door and flexed his fingers. Clarissa was prone to throw things when in a pet.
On alert and prepared, he pressed down on the latch and shoved open the dove grey door.
Clarissa was sitting at her dressing table. Catching sight of him in the mirror, she grabbed a silver-handled brush, spun around, and flung the brush at his head. “Get out you beastly man! Out, out, out!”
Deftly catching the missile, Fitz dropped it on a chair and moved forward, his palms up in appeasement. “I’ve come to apologize. I shouldn’t have left you last night. I had too much to drink.”
“No you didn’t,” Clarissa snapped, tossing her golden curls with a theatrical flourish. “Everyone knows you can drink a battalion under the table. You followed that red-haired tart. Don’t say a word. I saw you. Is she your newest hussy? ” she sneered.
“No, she’s nobody.”
“Obviously, she’s a nobody,” Clarissa said with a contemptuous little sniff. “I’ve never seen her before.” The beau monde was small, cloistered, and exclusive.
Not about to discuss Mrs. St. Vincent when he was in Clarissa’s boudoir in order to forget her, pleased to see that her expression had softened, Fitz pulled up a chair and sat. “Tell me what I must do to apologize for my boorishness last night?” His voice drifted lower, turned husky. “I’m quite willing to say or
A smile began to form on Clarissa’s full lips, her eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Anything at all?” Clarissa whispered, deliberately shifting on the tufted stool so her pink lace dressing gown fell partially open above and below the tie at her waist.
“Just name it, sweetheart,” he drawled, taking note of the lush expanse of silken flesh on display. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” He lounged back in the gilt rococo chair, confident that detente had been reached.
“What a darling,” Clarissa purred. “So you’ve been thinking of me…”
“Ever since I woke,” he lied, surveying her with a roving glance that lingered for a moment on her splendid breasts showcased in the wide gap of her dressing gown. “I shouldn’t have walked away so rudely.”
“But you did, you bad, bad boy.” Holding his gaze, she pursed her lips in a sultry little pout. “And with a little nobody.”
“It was business.”
Clarissa softly snorted. “Please.”
“It was. She owns a bookstore I’m trying to buy.” He recognized some minimum explanation was required.
“You and a
“It’s true. It’s near a property I’m developing.”
Clarissa stared at him for a moment, her gaze assessing. “You actually mean it.”
He smiled. “I actually do. Am I forgiven now? ”
Her lashes drifted lower. “Perhaps.”
He opened his arms in a conciliatory gesture. “I came to make amends, darling. Just tell me what you require as penance.”
“Penance?” A mischievous gleam came into her eyes. “What a tantalizing notion.”
He laughed. “Will whips be involved? ”
“Does it matter? ”
“It depends on who’s holding the whip.”
She smiled. “Barbarian. Must you always be in charge?”
“It’s a habit,” he drawled.
“And a very nice one come to think of it,” she whispered, memories of Fitz’s dominant role in bed arousing her senses. With a husband like hers who was not only old but also pale and bloodless after years behind a desk, Fitz’s sheer maleness was a potent aphrodisiac. Not that Harold hadn’t made piles of money while working behind that desk, for which she was grateful. But money didn’t satisfy her sexual cravings. “To be perfectly honest, darling, I have no good reason to take offense about last night. I might have done the same to you. We both are who we are,” she said with a candor that surprised even herself. “Thank you for coming to visit me today.” She smiled. “For your ears only, darling, but you are a most welcome change from my husband.”
Rising, she took two steps, dropped into Fitz’s lap, and twined her arms around his neck. “I adore your flattery,” she whispered, “and your, shall we say, excessive stamina. You make me very happy, and God knows such feelings are rare in our world.”
Clarissa had done her duty by her family, marrying a rich man old enough to be her father. That she would indulge herself on occasion was to be expected. Who in the ton wouldn’t? But she was also surprisingly frank today. “You’re speaking your mind, sweetheart.” His gaze was amused as he held her lightly in his arms. “Should I be worried? ”
She gave a little twitch of her shoulder. “How long have we known each other? I don’t mean as lovers- socially.”
He did a quick mental calculation; she was quite a bit younger than he. “Six years.”
“I’ve been married seven years.”
A wary look came into his eyes. “Don’t say you want a child.”
She laughed. “Good God, Fitz, don’t flinch like that. Relax, I don’t want a child. Harold already has all those awful children from his first marriage-who think they’re going to inherit his fortune,” she said with a flicker of her
