He shrugged himself, not without some difficulty, into a coat of superfine blue cloth that was molded exquisitely to his broad shoulders, and strode over to her.
“I trust you will find sufficient to amuse you during my absence,” he said, and she could hear the warning in his voice. “I only ask that you not be too indiscreet while you are still in my keeping.” A faintly sardonic look passed over his handsome face, making his gray eyes cold and hard.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her face drained of color even as she spoke.
“Oh, don’t you, Yvette? How very strange. I had thought you would know exactly what I meant. In any case,” he continued with careless emphasis, “we shall discuss the matter upon my return.”
He picked up his cane and pulled his many-caped cloak around his shoulders and walked to the door. As he let himself out, he said over his shoulder, “Don’t, whatever you do, underestimate your value, my dear. You’re as fine a possession as any man could wish.”
He closed the door quietly behind him and was gone. Yvette could hear his retreating footsteps as he took the stairs two at a time.
“Damn you,” she shouted at the closed bedchamber door, wishing for something to hurl. “All those fine lords, damn them, arrogant crowing peacocks.”
As her anger lessened, a frown creased her white brow and she pursed her lips, now annoyed at herself for her own carelessness. She should have guessed that her capitulation to Lord Riverton would send his boasting, vain lordship to proclaim his triumph. It was a mistake she should not have made, a stupid, ill-timed blunder that had lost her, she was forced to admit, a very generous protector.
She pushed back the covers and rose slowly, her body aching from her exertions. She sat at her dressing table and began to brush out her tangled chestnut hair. She paused a moment to examine the undeniably alluring face and felt cheered. Lord Riverton was a rich man and appeared to enjoy her lisping English and her views of life in England, as well as the voluptuous attractions her body offered.
She sighed, momentarily cast down. She was fond of Julien, and he was after all an earl. And dreadfully rich. She found herself gazing wistfully at her elegantly furnished room. She would miss this charming apartment and also, she reflected, a man very nicely skilled in the art of lovemaking— and only a few of those skills had she taught him. No, when she’d first come to him, he was already a man of pleasure, a man who wasn’t selfish in the giving of pleasure, despite the fact that she was his mistress. He could still surprise her by his ability to make her forget herself, make her forget all her own wiles for giving him pleasure.
She rose from her dressing table, blew out the candles, and took herself back to bed. As pragmatic as she was passionate, she realized that it was just as well that Julien was leaving for the country. It would give her time to assess Lord Riverton’s intentions.
It did not take her long to devise a plan which pleased her, and she fell asleep confident that she could part the pinch-penny Lord Riverton from some of his precious guineas.
Outside the red brick house on Curzon Street, Julien hailed a hackney and directed the driver to make all haste to White’s. He sat back against the rather worn cushions and stretched his long legs. The old wooden cab swayed precariously as the horse clip-clopped on the uneven cobblestones, and Julien had to steady his position by holding the frayed leather strap. He felt now only slightly irritated that he’d shared Yvette with another man while she was under his protection. In all honesty, he knew that he had given her scant attention these last few months, his visits infrequent and for only one purpose. He had used her body to escape for brief periods of time from his growing restlessness. Yvette had been his choice recently over the lovely Lady Sarah, as he had found it increasingly difficult to speak with any sincerity at all the words of endearment and affection required of such a liaison. With Yvette he could behave exactly as he wished, for it was her duty to please him. He thought of her unsuccessful attempt at perfidy and felt faintly amused. He had no doubt that she would take care of herself; like a cat, she was, soft, purring, and quite able to land on her feet. He sighed and closed his eyes. He wished Yvette luck in her pursuit of Riverton.
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