Page 115 of A Lady of Means
Devyn reversed their position.In a single motion, he was on top of her.She let out a sound that was part laugh, part huff of breathy surprise.
“You minx,” he said, holding her arms beside her head and grinding his manhood against her.“And in front of all my ancestors too,” she gave him a hearty laugh, twining his fingers tighter with hers, “I’m going to enjoy making you take that back.”
She tapped her chin with a finger, “Mmm, probably not as much as I will.”
Devyn’s fingers found her entrance, one of his long digits slipped inside.Moria bit down on a groan.His lips caressed her neck, hers trailed patterns down his back.Another finger slipped inside her, Moria felt the circular seal of his signet ring against her.She felt her walls clench around his patient strokes.
“I was right,” she ground out, grasping him as he worked her.“Having a title looks good on you.”
He curled his ringed finger inside her again, again, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.
“Let go, my lady.”
“I’ll go anywhere you go,” she breathlessly replied, arching her back as he made her see stars above their joined bodies on the painted ceiling.“My lord.”
“Together,” he said, holding her against his chest and placing a kiss at her temple, “Countess.”
Moria could barely hold her thoughts together as she panted out, “I have one more place in mind before we sail for Italy.”
* * *
“I can’t believeyou wanted to come to one of my salons before setting off on your honeymoon,” Noelle said, greeting Moria with a kiss on each cheek.Moria stood back and gave her sister’s demurely tailored dark blue dress with gold detailing an appreciative nod.
“The only thing worse than coming back here, would be not coming back,” Moria said with a tight smile.Her husband’s warm, gentle, dwarfing hand was at her back.The contact of his signet ring brushing against her back, curving to rest at her hip, braced Moria with courage for what she was about to do.He released her as she walked on to the orchestra platform of Pomfrey House’s ballroom she’d commandeered as a stage, leaning back on his gold tipped cane.
The literary salon Viscountess Ludlowe hosted usually took up the massive billiards room at Pomfrey House in London; they’d had to move this evening’s event to the ballroom to accommodate the number of guests.
A couple hundred chairs took up the room, filling up with bodies dressed in Bond Street’s finery looking for their name on a chair, and some standing along the back wall.
An evening with London’s former diamond, currently married to her besotted, newly minted and mysterious Earl, had drawn out a crowd ready to witness whatever new spectacle the former society favorite had in mind to entertain them with.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will please take your seats,” Viscount Ludlowe announced.The audience followed, wordlessly.Turning to his sister-in-law and guest, he asked, “Lady Moria, would you like to tell us what your entertainment for tonight’s salon entails?”
Moria stood from her chair on the little stage.“Many years ago, there were quite a lot of you who, collectively, made one young lady feel inferior.Like she had something to prove,” she paced, her husband nodding to her to keep going, “I know what you’re thinking, “justoneyoung lady?”Turns out, she wasn’t the only one.She made friends with two other young ladies, and together they saw a lot of things, heard a lot of things, said a lot of things, in order to feel superior.”
The Countess of Clairville placed her hands behind the back of her mauve gown, walking along the stage.“One day they decided to write them down, as insurance.Any piece of information was like pawns in a chess game to these ladies.Rarely, if ever, did they use it, and only when out of options.Then someone they trusted used that book in an effort to bring one particular lady down, to take from her what wasn’t meant for either of them in the first place.What was in the book was never meant for anyone to see, and so, I’ve called you all here, to say that I have never been sorrier, and so that you can have it back.”
There were a lot of questions and general comments from the gallery.Lady Moria cleared her voice, and the general melee came to a halt.
“You see, I’m trying this new thing where I don’t talk about people behind their backs.I’m giving you your entry, you can do with it what you will.There were over 127 entries in total in that book, and so, if you sat at a chair with a card for your name, I’d like you to look beneath your seat.”
Devyn’s heart was in his eyes when she looked to stage left.She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to seeing him look at her like that, if she ever wanted to get used to it.Her friends, a couple of her siblings flanked him, giving her smiles too; but her eyes focused on him.He’d found her a scarred girl.He’d never given up on her through it all, even when she’d almost resigned herself to a role she wasn’t suited to play.
A storm of hands opened gold envelopes they’d found beneath their seat, some laughing, some ripping the contents to shreds, some raising their voices.
One lady jumped from her seat, marched up to a gentleman, and slapped him.
Another lady knocked another lady’s hat clean off her head and onto the floor.When she shoved her, a third lady joined in; on whose side she was fighting, was unclear.
More than one gentleman got up wordlessly and stormed out, leaving the lady at his side behind.
More than one lady shoved a man somewhere in her general vicinity and hurled accusations.
At least several ladies, young and old were in heated arguments or an all-out brawl.
“Quick question,” Noelle said, leaning down to her older sister’s height.“Is this the scene you were picturing tonight?”
Moria grimaced and shook her head.“The ladies have gone…wild.”
