Page 12 of Chasing Benedict
-The London Gossip,25 January 1820
Benedict had another call to pay before making his way to Rowland-Drake, the linen-drapery and haberdashery owned by his best friend. Coincidentally, the person he was going to see lived on Half-Moon Street, several houses down from Warin Lyons. However, he couldn’t be seen at Lyons’s residence, lest the man’s connection to the Gentleman Courtesans be uncovered. However, the lady he had come to speak with—Lady Millicent Dane—was the only person in London whose reputation could be called worse than his. The Gossip was also aware of Benedict’s connection to Millicent, and that her infamous secret parties had been used to conduct courtesan business. There was nothing left to hide, so Benedict boldly strode to her front door and knocked.
The youngest, most ridiculously attractive butler Benedict had ever seen answered the door, eyes lighting with recognition at the sight of him. The man was like every other servant in this house—beautiful to look at, with the snug fit of his livery flaunting sinewy muscle and brawn. Benedict had to admire the dedication to such an aesthetic.
“Is Lady Dane at home?” he asked.
“She is, Mr. Sterling,” the butler replied, widening the door in welcome. “In fact, she has been expecting a call from you. Right this way.”
Benedict chose to remain in his greatcoat, the chill of a winter’s afternoon clinging to him, though he did remove his hat. He held it in one hand while following the butler to a drawing room. Once the butler announced him, he was ushered into a chamber that, at first glance, looked to be one of elegant taste and style. However, as one took a closer look, the licentious decor made itself apparent. Red wallpaper with gold leaf turned the sunlight streaming through the windows into a pink haze. Erotic paintings hung from them, depicting couples, threesomes, and outright orgies of people engaged in voluptuous acts. Marble and stone statues sat on pedestals about the room, strategically placed to be seen from every angle. They were even more shocking than the paintings in the stark whiteness and multidimensional portrayal of every sexual act imaginable.
In the center of the room, lounging on a sofa and lingering over a scattering of fashion plates, was Lady Millicent Dane. Her blue eyes glittered, and her rouged lips stretched into a genuine smile at the sight of him. Her lush proportions were encased in a simple dressing-gown of black damask, which made the milky hue of her skin and white-gold of her hair appear ethereal. Her feet, covered in dainty slippers, peeked out from beneath the hem.
Millicent didn’t bat an eyelash at the notion of him seeing her thus undressed, but that had nothing to do with her knowledge of his predilections. The woman was unashamed of her sexual nature, and shunned the strictures of a society that would tell her she could not receive a friend dressed in something that covered more skin than most of her ball gowns.
“Ben, darling! I’d been hoping you would pay me a visit.”
“So I was told,” he said while sinking onto the loveseat facing her sofa, with a low table between them. “New butler?”
Her grin grew wicked as her gaze darted toward the door, which hung ajar to reveal the figure of the butler striding by. “Isn’t he delectable? The entire household is enamored with him already, though I cannot decide whether the women want him more, or the men.”
Benedict chuckled. “And what does Peter think of him?”
Millicent’s smile grew wistful at the mention of her body servant and longtime lover. Peter had begun his service in her house as a footman, but he had soon earned her favor, then eventually her heart. Benedict didn’t quite understand their arrangement—knowing only that Millicent’s dominant nature meant the man was willing to do anything she asked, no matter how debasing. The two had no boundaries to their tastes and were known to share lovers of both sexes whenever the mood struck. However, despite there being no benefit of marriage, he’d never seen a pair more dedicated to one another than Millicent and Peter. The servant loved his mistress, and Benedict liked to believe she loved him back.
“Peter is the most enamored of all. They’ve been trading lingering looks all week. I do believe he’d be amenable to … an additional duty along with all his others.”
Benedict couldn’t help but envy men like Peter and this butler, who were capable of feeling desire for both men and women. For his part, while he could admire a woman’s beauty or form, his appreciation of the fair sex ended there. He had long ago accepted who he was, but couldn’t pretend life wouldn’t be easier for him if he could conjure the slightest interest in a woman. It would protect him from ruin, solidify his viscountcy when the time came to inherit, keep him from having to hide who he was, living a lie every day. Apparently, Alex shared this trait with Peter, for he’d had no problem joining with a woman in marriage. Thinking of Alex consummating the union, enjoying the attentions of a wife in the dark, and taking pleasure from it made Benedict’s chest ache. The thought of Alex being intimate and tender with a doting wife hurt more than Benedict wanted to acknowledge. It baffled him to realize that Alex still held such power over him. Even after turning him away twice, Benedict still felt an acute agony at the thought of what could never be.
Seeming to sense that his thoughts had taken a disagreeable turn, Millicent sat up straight, feet touching the floor as she pushed her fashion plates aside. “Something is wrong.”
“No … yes. My father arrived this morning.”
Millicent pulled a face, knowing full well the sins the viscount had committed against Benedict. “My condolences. Would you like to take a room here until he leaves? I don’t care who he is; he would not be allowed over the threshold. I have an army of footmen who could toss him out on his ear on a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you, but no. I refuse to be intimidated into leaving my own home.”
“Good show.”
“I do have another request to make of you.”
Her eyes widened in realization. “You are ready to act on the information I gave you.”
“I am. There is a ball this evening in the home of the Duke and Duchess of Avonleah.”
“Yes, darling, the duke and his wife are dear friends of mine.”
“So, you’ve been invited.”
“Of course. Weren’t you invited?”
“No. But, Avonleah doesn’t strike me as one to shun a man with a bad reputation.”
Millicent snorted. “Hardly. He was once the biggest rake in London. The duchess is a special woman, indeed, to have tamed him.”
“Do you suppose I could garner an invitation, if you were to request it? I take itshewill be there.”
They both knew the ‘she’ he referred to, and Millicent’s jaw hardened in disdain. “Naturally. She sits quite far down the ladder of high society, but has made some influential friends. I wouldn’t be surprised to know she has blackmailed her way into higher circles. How else could she find herself invited to a ball in the home of a duke?”
