Page 75 of The Duke's Dream
“Oh, Helene, do tell!” Celeste clapped her hands, eyes alight.
Helene traced Dionysus’s marble foot, cheeks blazing. “The Duke of Albemarle—I mean, William—came to my home after the opening night…”
“How was it?” Celeste whispered.
Helene cleared her throat. “It was pleasurable.”
“Did it hurt?” Celeste’s voice cracked.
Helene met her friend’s hazel eyes. “A little, but it’s nothing to fear. It can be sweet. Loving. Wonderful.”
Celeste’s gaze returned to the statue, hopeful. “Is he as well-formed as Dionysus?”
He hadn’t actually let her see him fully unclothed, but she could bet he was every inch as impressive.
“He is well endowed.”
Louise crossed her arms. “And is he as imperious as Dionysus?”
“Imperious?” Helene lifted a brow. “Are we even looking at the same statue? This Greek god is content. Happy, even.”
Louise scoffed. “Dionysus is not at rest. He’s waiting. Watching. He wants to possess. To mold. Just like every lord before him.”
That wasn’t true. “I tire of looking at Dionysus.”
Louise touched her shoulder. “How different do you think the Duke of Albemarle is from Lord Elgin? How long before he removes you from your true habitat and displays you in a gallery—under the guise of protecting you?”
“He won’t,” Helene said. “I have everything under control.”
William was different.
She had an agreement with him, didn’t she? She controlled her body, her heart, her life.
She did.
Didn’t she?
Williamwrotequickly,signingcontracts and penning missives for his solicitors. The faster he finished his business, the faster he could return to Helene. He had ordered his chef to prepare a special dinner. If she complained that she didn’t receive gifts, or God forbid—food from him, he would feed her, pushing the caviar through her plump lips until she was replete. Then, he would undress her slowly and worship every inch of her delectable skin.
The clock struck seven, and he decided he had waited more than a hot-blooded gentleman could be expected to. William released his pen and was about to rise when Baines announced a visitor.
“Thornley, this is a surprise,” William said, hiding his impatience under a blank facade.
The older man sauntered inside, his face flushed, his white hair sticking out at odd angles. “I had hoped to see you at the Duchess of Devonshire ball last night. Everyone commented on your absence.”
William gestured for Thornley to sit. “I had a previous engagement. May I help you?”
“My discoveries couldn’t wait,” Thornley replied, shaking his hand firmly.
William crossed his arms. What was it this time? “If this concerns the protest in Covent Garden, I talked with Cavendish already. The Horse Guards could have handled the commotion better. Our military shouldn't attack unarmed civilians. Beyond that, we have our hands tied against Farley. My lawyer said the court will take—”
“Never mind the court.” Thornley waved his hand dismissively. “I have news that will silence the radical.”
William frowned, suddenly alert. He didn’t care for the glint in the older man’s eyes.
Thornley leaned in. “I have it from my sources that Farley frequents a well-known establishment on Rose Street. The bastard is a molly, a sodomite.”
Frowning, William gripped his pen. “You can’t mean to use this information against him.”
