Page 2 of The Lady
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The Tramp
Hyde Park—where the beauty of nature was sullied by the grotesqueness of human existence.
Tucked away under the overgrown branches of a willow along the banks of the Serpentine, Henry sneered at the passington. Young idiots, prancing about with padded breeches and jackets, posturing like peacocks to impress the simpering young ladies, who cared more about the quality of their purses than their characters. More than one of those young men would be in Warrens tonight, trying their hands at the Tramp’s gaming tables.
He wondered what those young ladies would do if they knew the quality ofhispurse. He snorted at the thought. Without the title to go with the purse, every last one would turn up their nose at him, no matter that his fortune was as great as any duke. Well, perhaps not all of them would turn up their noses. There were always a few nobles on the brink of ruin. Often enough, the Tramp had helped drive them there. Several had offered their daughters when they ran out of coin—as if he’d want them. The doxies who worked his gambling hells knew their trade, knew how to please a man, and needed nothing more than a room to spread their legs.
Sometimes, he amused himself, wondering if any of those offered daughters eventually made their way to his various establishments. If they did, it was after being broken in elsewhere. Henry did not deal in flesh, other than charging board for the tarts in his hells, and he had no interest in auctioning off young virgins. That was for the brothels to handle.
“‘e’s not coming,” Butch grunted from beside Henry. On Henry’s other side, Frank shrugged, but the general air he gave off signaled his agreement.
“Seems not,” Henry said, checking his pocket watch again. The Duke of Manchester insisted on meeting in Hyde Park, rather than in the Warrens since he’d promised his new wife, he would not step another foot in a gaming hell. Henry actually rather liked the duke, or he’d never have agreed, but he’d also been curious what kind of woman had the formidable man toeing the line so closely. He’d hoped a meeting in the park would allow him a glimpse. “He is a busy man, though. Another quarter of an hour, then we’ll leave.”
Butch nodded, and Frank shrugged again. It wasn’t as if it was a hardship to spend some time in the park, other than the obnoxious occupants. But the weather was fair, the air even cooler by the river, and it certainly smelled better than the Warrens.
Scanning his gaze back across the river, he saw her—a vision in pink and cream.
Henry hated pink. He wanted to rip the offending gown off of her delicately curved body and tear it to shreds. The impulse shocked him. He enjoyed women. He reveled in their whimpers, moans, their pained and pleasured screams—but he’d never had such a visceral reaction to any other member of the female persuasion. He could not have even said why she was so different. But she was. His body reacted, his pulse beating faster, cock hardening, fingers twitching to get his hands on that abominable dress... and her. He could strip her, pull off that ridiculous bonnet, and keep her clothed in nothing but her hair, like Lady Godiva. With her hair covered up, he could not even tell what color it was, but it didn’t matter. Whatever color, it would be better than that dress.
Those sweet pink lips curved in a smile, and Henry had the urge to ruin those as well. He’d kiss her until her lips were red, pinch her nipples until they matched, and spank her sweet cunt to the same color before fucking her into oblivion. He’d keep her naked, well-spanked, and well fucked—his little pet…
The vision was so encompassing, he did not even notice time passing until Butch cleared his throat again.
“Uh, Boss? We gonna keep waitin’?”
Jolted from his reverie, Henry pulled out his pocket watch. It had been another half-hour, not a quarter. Growling, he cast one last look across the water at the woman who had clouded his mind—a bloody debutante. Standing in the park for so long must be making him barmy.
“Let’s go,” he growled, turning his back and stalking away. Bloody debs. Bloody women.
But he already knew he’d be ordering whatever whore he used tonight to dress in pink.
1
Lady Delilah Darling
Two Months Later
“Go? But...”Delilah’s voice trailed off as she stared at Lord Greene, her mind in turmoil. Seated on the couch in the drawing room with him across from her, she’d known he must have something of import to say, but she had not expected he and Lady Greene would be leaving the capital before the Season’s end.
Something miraculous had happened—Lady Greene was finally with child. Delilah had been so very happy for them when they had told her, but over the past few weeks, Lady Greene had begun to suffer from ill-health. Lord Greene had still squired Delilah about, to the major events, and she’d assumed they would continue on, with a modified calendar, until the end of the Season.
Unfortunately, it was not to be.
“I am sorry, Delilah,” Lord Greene said gently. “The physician said she needs the country air. The city is not good for her in her condition. However, never fear, you will be able to stay in town and finish out the remainder of your Season.”
Guilt rose up inside of Delilah. It was not that she thought her Season more important than Lady Greene’s health, exactly... but for an advantageous marriage, she needed to be married by the end of the Season. This was likely her last chance, and she was sure several gentlemen were close to proposing.
So far, the Season had been a roaring success. Dubbed a Diamond of the First Water, Delilah had quickly made a splash with the fickleton, especially the unmarried gentlemen. With Lord and Lady Greene watching their ward like twin hawks, the rogues and rakes quickly turned tail in retreat, despite the draw of her beauty and charm. Her bubbly personality, in contrast to her sad story, endeared her to the young men and ladies, while her guardians ensured her welcome with the older set.
“You are kind of think of me when Lady Greene’s health is low,” she said, shaking her head and smoothing her hands nervously over her skirts.
“Finding you a husband is still our responsibility,” he said, leaning over to pat her hand, attempting to comfort her. “In that light, I have asked my Aunt Sarah to be your chaperone for the next month until the Season ends.”
Delilah pressed her lips together, stifling the protest that sprang to them. She had met the formidable old lady. Lady Sarah Felton had been at many of the same events they had attended, chaperoning her twin granddaughters, Amy and Silvia. All three of them had looked down their noses at Delilah, although they had not snubbed her completely.
As a choice, she made sense since she was already in town for the Season and related to Lord Greene, not to mention already escorting two debutantes.
