Page 32 of A Sinful Virgin for the Duke

“Stay right here before I send for the constables,” Frederick said coldly. “You dared to steal from my tenants? You might as well have stolen directly from me. Now, let us find a seat, hmm?”

“The business venture with Treston sounds interesting,” Lord Drayton said. “I am surprised that he is willing to risk that much on a new investment, with his wife being as she is.”

Frederick frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Well, she had been married to another earl before. When the poor man died, she dumped him into a pauper’s coffin, and waited the bare minimum of eleven months and twenty-nine days before she swanned off to marry Treston. Might I also add that, during those months, not a stitch of a widow’s black garb ever graced her person.”

“Highly inappropriate, but not unusual for the ton,” Frederick replied. “We like to lie to ourselves that we marry for love when the truth is we marry for rank, fortune, and political connections, only to live a life of scheduled intimacy and discussions of weather over the breakfast table.”

While righting his onyx cufflink, Drayton added, “you may say that now, but rumor has it that she had a daughter with the man that no one has heard from or seen since the man passed.”

“Sent the girl to live with relatives,” Frederick scoffed. “Another commonality.”

“I suppose,” Drayton replied. “Her current daughter is sly, obnoxious and as much of a fortune-hunter as her mother is.”

“Fortune-hunter?” Frederick’s left brow lifted in feigned shock. “How callous of you.”

Laughing, the viscount added, “you have known me from Eton and Cambridge. When was I ever a ball of levity and optimism?”

“Touché,” Frederick grinned at Drayton and turned, wondering if the girl had managed to slip inside the billiards room; a bastion of male seclusion.

“However, I am hardly interested in their family dynamics. I already know that her daughter has set her cap to try and sway me, but I regret to say… well, no, I am confident when I say that she will be sorely disappointed.”

Drayton’s eyes lowered. “When was the last time you were at the club?”

He stuck a hand into his pocket and sighed regrettably while swirling his drink. “It has been far too long.”

“You should drop by one night soon,” Drayton replied. “I know you desire women who have the same proclivities as you, but the average woman will not understand unless she holds the same desires as you have and craves the guidance you can give. I have not had much luck myself.’

Frederick hadn’t exposed the depth of his proclivities to many. Who knew who was a friend and who was a foe?

Lately, his stint of celibacy had not bothered him much, but now that he realized how long it had been, he felt the need to acquire a partner begin to prickle under his skin.

“I think it is time I leave,” Frederick said. “I will see you around.”

“And I know exactly where,” Drayton grinned.

Laughing under his breath, Frederick handed his glass off and left the room, nodding to the few men he had made connections with before exiting the room entirely.

It did not take him long to get to the foyer, request his coat and call for his carriage. He had nearly gotten away when Lady Trenton called out to him. This time she had her daughter with her.

The girl was pretty but had the look of a spoiled, over-pampered, petulant child in her large blue eyes.

“Your Grace,” Lady Trenton said. “Are you leaving already? Heavens, no. I would love for you to stay for dinner.”

Her daughter had changed into what could only be described as a ballgown of blue silk, her hair artfully pinned into a fetching updo.

“I do apologize,” he said unapologetically. “But I have a prior engagement that I must attend. Good day, ladies.”

The clip-clop of hooves on a gravel drive told him the carriage had arrived, and with a nod, Frederick left for the vehicle, pausing to rub his hand over the side of one of the four dappled greys before hopping inside.

Once inside, he trained his gaze out the window and wondered if he should attend Drayton’s club that evening and stay at his London townhouse overnight rather than return to the estate.

His palm itched to deliver well-regulated slaps to a trained woman’s behind, while she was rendered motionless by the red rope he would artfully twine around her body.

He envisioned Gemma’s sweet face contorted in pleasure as his hand squeezed her backside. He groaned hungrily as he fantasized slapping the supple mounds and reddening the skin. He inhaled sharply as he saw her wrists bound in red rope and her full breasts surrounded by the red satin cord.

Heavens, Blackridge. Compose yourself.

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