The Sextet Presents… The Lady Takes a Pair [In Days of Olde] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  In Days of Olde

  The Sextet Presents… The Lady Takes a Pair

  Lady Juliet Nordsworth may be the daughter of an earl, but even her rank cannot save her reputation following a scandalous tryst with a stable lad. Nicholas Pennington, the Viscount Rotherford, however, is in need of a lady who will not only provide him with an heir, but will also accept his current lover, William Davenport, who is also his footman and valet.

  The Earl of Clarenhurst thinks he can secure Rotherford’s vote for the repressive laws he has proposed by giving the viscount his only daughter’s hand in marriage. Little does he know that his future son-in-law has both a mind and a will of his own.

  Attracted to both men, Juliet is aroused and intrigued by a demonstration of their love in a secluded spot on Rotherford’s estate. Rotherford’s offer of marriage will free her from her father’s tyranny, but can she trust her heart to two men?

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 26,598 words

  THE SEXTET PRESENTS…

  THE LADY TAKES A PAIR

  In Days of Olde

  Cheryl Brooks

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  THE SEXTET PRESENTS… THE LADY TAKES A PAIR

  Copyright © 2012 by Cheryl Brooks

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-590-8

  First E-book Publication: October 2012

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

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  DEDICATION

  For all of the wonderful people I have worked with throughout my nursing career. You have enriched my life in so many ways, and I wish health, love, and happiness to each and every one of you.

  THE SEXTET PRESENTS…

  THE LADY TAKES A PAIR

  In Days of Olde

  CHERYL BROOKS

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  Viscount Rotherford was highly annoyed to discover that Lady Juliet Nordsworth remained apart from the rest of the company even though she was an invited guest. Yet there she was, tucked away in a quiet corner, her somber gray gown doing very little to augment her beauty.

  Like a damned governess.

  As the Earl of Clarenhurst’s daughter, Lady Juliet’s downfall might’ve been overlooked if her tryst with a stable lad hadn’t been witnessed by one of society’s most formidable dowagers. In the wake of the scandal, her furious father had banished her to the relative seclusion of his country seat and had cast her lover out without a reference. Evidently preferring to keep his wayward daughter firmly under his thumb, he’d refused to introduce her to society, nor had he bothered to marry her off to some worthy commoner.

  Five years had passed since the scandal, and in all that time, Rotherford hadn’t given the story more than a passing thought. He had once overheard the earl comment that it was better for his daughter to remain a spinster than to marry beneath her station. However, now that he’d finally met the lady, the viscount longed to give the haughty peer a piece of his mind. Her spinsterhood may have been better for her father, but was it truly better for her?

  Perhaps it was, particularly in light of what Rotherford had in mind. Unless she held a grudge against her stable lad, she clearly didn’t despise the servant class the way an earl’s daughter ordinarily would. No, he thought as he studied her discreetly. Despise was too strong a term. Beneath her notice was a better description of the way she should have felt—unlike the way she’d been watching William.

  Her eyes weren’t the first to be drawn to Rotherford’s handsome footman. Of medium height with broad shoulders and a winning smile to complement his green eyes and wavy ginger hair, William could’ve had his pick of any maiden in the village. However, his tastes had run in a slightly different direction. Like his lord and master, he craved the taste of a man’s cock as much as the delicate tang of a woman’s warm juice.

  Rotherford and William had been lovers for some time, but lately they’d both felt a certain longing for the fairer sex—aside from the fact that a viscountess was necessary to provide Rotherford with an heir.

  He’d first become aware of Lady Juliet at a house party given by the earl. Rotherford knew that Clarenhurst, who had always struck him as something of an autocrat, had only issued the invitation in an attempt to drum up support for the repressive laws he was attempting to push through the House of Lords. Rotherford disagreed with the earl on almost every political issue, and had been on the brink of refusing when his friend Wrexham had advised him to accept, if only to keep an eye on the opposition.

  Rotherford had reluctantly agreed, never suspecting that the earl’s disgraced daughter might pique his interest. He truly had taken the lovely Lady Juliet for the governess when he’d first spotted her—until he remembered that Clarenhurst’s children were too old to require one. Wrexham had verified that the lady
in question was, indeed, the earl’s daughter, and was able to refresh his memory on the details of the scandal.

  Despite his cordial dislike of her father, Rotherford had been drawn to her. With hair the color of ripened wheat and eyes a brilliant cornflower blue, at first glance she could’ve passed for an innocent debutante. However, closer scrutiny revealed a lady in her early twenties with a provocative smile that suggested a rather different nature. His attempts at discourse with her were thwarted by her father. Nonetheless, those brief conversations left Rotherford longing for more.

  In an effort to further their acquaintance, he’d done his damndest to ensure that the invitation he’d extended to a gathering of his own included the lovely young woman. If the earl chose to assume that her presence might please Nick enough to sway his vote, that was his problem. He wouldn’t do it, of course. The mere thought repulsed him in the extreme.

  In any case, the earl’s political ambitions had apparently gotten the better of him, for Lady Juliet now graced Rotherford’s drawing room. Sitting apart from the others, she said very little, though her eyes betrayed her discontent. Rotherford had seen the spark of interest as her gaze followed William from the room, and the keen-eyed footman had already reported catching her assessing look at his master. Her breeding alone qualified her to be his viscountess, but her lush figure and succulent lips promised delights far beyond those offered by the typical debutante. And then there were those eyes… Beyond doubt, she would make an excellent wife and an even better lover.

  For both of them.

  * * * *

  The viscount’s rich baritone fell upon Juliet’s ears like a caress. Simply hearing him talk filled her with passionate desire—a feeling she’d seldom experienced since the day of her ruin. Already, she could discern his voice amid the babble of general conversation, leaving her free to recall the warm manner in which he’d greeted her. Eyes twinkling, he’d taken her hand in a firm grasp, pressing his lips to her fingers in a manner that somehow managed to be polite and seductive at the same time. She doubted anyone else noticed his effect on her, but her skin still tingled from his touch, providing sufficient evidence that she hadn’t dreamed it.

  She already saw him as her rescuer, for it was only by his insistence that she’d been brought here. Her father had berated her throughout the journey, warning her to behave with the utmost propriety while her mother silently nodded her agreement. Poor Elena had been worn down by her husband, her shining auburn hair now dulled to gray, her once lovely face lined and tired.

  Juliet had learned long ago that protests against the injustice of her situation fell upon deaf ears, but at this moment, she felt only a sense of joyous freedom. The viscount couldn’t have understood the depths of her gratitude any more than he would understand her attraction to him—or to that handsome footman who’d been so attentive.

  She still hadn’t fathomed why her presence was so important to Rotherford, nor did she care. The smile that frequently tugged at her lips would undoubtedly result in a tongue lashing from her father, but she didn’t care about that, either. This event would stand out as one of the high points in her life. She would cherish it while it lasted.

  “Are you enjoying your visit, my lady?”

  Lost in bliss, she’d been unaware of his approach, but his voice flowed over her like a balm.

  A very exciting balm.

  “I am, indeed, my lord. Thank you for your kind invitation.” As much as his nearness made her conscious of herself as a woman, his careful scrutiny made her wary.

  “You are quite welcome,” the viscount said. “Unfortunately, I cannot help but notice that while you claim to be enjoying the party, you do not give that appearance. I have observed you sitting here alone, not speaking to anyone. Could it be that you are too shy to engage some other young lady in conversation?”

  Although shyness wasn’t the problem, it was certainly a better excuse than the truth. “Perhaps.” He delved too deeply. A diversion was necessary. “Your home is quite lovely, my lord.”

  The ensuing moment of hesitation could’ve meant anything. Accustomed to mocking sarcasm, Juliet prepared for the worst, and was therefore wholly unprepared for his reply.

  “A home that is all the lovelier for your”—he paused, letting his voice drop to an oddly intimate tone—“acceptance of my invitation.”

  Curious, she looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time.

  Hazel and sparkling with mischief, his eyes held no trace of mockery.

  “You are too kind, my lord.” Her voice was the merest whisper, her pounding heart having stolen her breath.

  He prefaced his rejoinder with a warm chuckle. “So I’ve been told, although not recently.”

  She frowned. “But I just said it. How much more recent could a remark possibly be?”

  Her heart ceased its hammering long enough that she feared it might not resume beating at all. Years of listening to her father’s dictates that she be seen and not heard had yet to curb her unguarded responses.

  My wretched tongue…

  Averting her eyes, she focused instead on the floor in front of her. “Forgive me. I spoke without thought.”

  “A habit that I find quite charming.”

  Her eyes widened as they darted upward to his face.

  He was smiling. Not a polite, perfunctory smile, but one that broadened into a grin, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  Heat flooded her face, her gaze once again seeking the floor.

  “I am pleased that you find my carpet so attractive,” he drawled. “However, although some ancestor of mine undoubtedly paid a large sum for it, I can take no credit for its beauty. I cannot even say I am responsible for its cleanliness.”

  Juliet couldn’t suppress the giggle bubbling up inside her any more than she could control its volume. Her father had obviously heard it—Juliet could feel the sting of his censorious glare from across the room—but even his frank displeasure couldn’t stop her laughter.

  “Ah, now,” the viscount said with a nod. “That’s much better. Precisely what I’ve been longing to hear.” Drawing up a chair, he sat beside her, facing the opposite direction—an arrangement which provided a modicum of privacy where previously there had been none. His voice dropped to a conspiratory level. “Is there anything else in my drawing room that you find attractive? Other furnishings, perhaps?”

  “There are many beautiful things to be seen here, my lord.” Actually, there were two that she found particularly attractive, neither of which could in any way be considered furnishings.

  “None more so than the others?”

  What a peculiar conversation. “No, my lord.”

  “Hmm…If I were to beg you to drop the ‘my lord’ and call me by my given name, would that alter your opinion?”

  Her gasp proved as difficult to suppress as her giggle had been. “You are not serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. Quite serious. Someday I shall hear you say it, but in the meantime, I shall begin by telling you my name, and also the name of the footman whom you seem to find so fascinating.”

  Her mortification was now complete. “I don’t…I didn’t…That is to say…”

  “Don’t bother to dissemble.” An amiable smile softened any chastisement he might have intended. “His name is William. And mine is Nicholas, although I prefer Nick, just as he prefers to be called Will. Please, do me the honor of remembering them both.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.

  This time, heat flooded not only her face, but her entire body, settling into an ache in a location best left unmentioned.

  As well as untouched and unfulfilled. Her one experience with the male sex had left her panting for breath and aching in just such a place. Following a number of fevered kisses, the handsome stable boy had untied her bodice, caressing her breasts with his callused hands before suckling her nipples. Juliet had never felt anything quite so pleasurable in her life—until he unfastened the fall of his breeches and placed her hand o
n his groin.

  Hot, hard, and smooth as silk, the feel of his penis left her breathless with excitement and aflame with a need she didn’t understand. Unfortunately, Juliet’s first encounter with the male member was rudely interrupted by Lady Bentley. Her horrified shriek had the boy fumbling with his buttons while Juliet made a vain attempt to cover her breasts. Despite the ensuing drama, the only thought in her mind was what it would feel like to be penetrated by that rod of stiff flesh.

  And Rotherford made her feel the very same way. Perhaps even more so.

  Nick. How could she ever think of this man as merely Nick, let alone ever call him by that name? William, she could manage. Servants were commonly addressed by their given names, particularly footmen. There was nothing unusual about that. What was unusual was that Rotherford had been watching her closely enough to catch her eyes following his footman as he attended to the needs of the other guests. William had fetched a fan for Lady Monteal, brought a shawl for Lady Spencer, the frail dowager who sat near the fire, and given a glass of brandy to a gentleman who looked as though brandy was the very last thing he should’ve been drinking.

  Juliet hadn’t asked him for anything. Yet, like the good servant he was, he had begged her to name her pleasure, promising to perform any service she might require. Although she had politely declined his offer, his smile had sent a flush to her nether regions, and she’d caught herself staring at his trim posterior as he withdrew.

  The instant his back was turned, she’d thought of a service he could perform for her. Squirming in her seat, she imagined telling him to strip off his livery and allow her to do with him whatever she wished. Even now, her palms itched to caress his shoulders and glide down over his buttocks, to examine his masculine appendage with her eyes and fingers—even her tongue.