Page 7 of The Earl and the Vixen
Juliet swatted her forearm. “Don’t say such things. One-and-twenty does not make you a spinster, and you aren’t unmarried because you lack options,” Juliet reminded her. “You turned down another proposal just last month.”
Eliza laughed. “I do not insult myself. I have no intention of marrying. You know that. I am quite content.”
“Is that so?” Juliet asked, a knowing arch to her brow.
“I am,” Eliza insisted. “I mean, sure, I might like to experience the physical nature of a man’s company, but marriage isn’t required to do so. Obviously.” Eliza’s unfortunate encounter with Nick had been proof of that. She would read his letter again later to remind herself of the very thing. She brought it with her everywhere she went when she needed a reminder of how cruel men could be.
And as much as she hated to admit it, the desire for the things that she and Nick did together lingered just below the surface, waiting for her to give herself leave to experience them again.
“Yet you haven’t done so with anyone else,” Juliet said.
It annoyed Eliza to no end when Juliet pointed out that fact. Eliza wasn’t certain why she hadn’t attempted to take another lover. She contemplated it over the years, but she hadn’t been bold enough to be so vulnerable with another man. Nor had she found the opportunity, in truth. Until the house party invitation, she always had her mother with her at all the events she attended. There weren’t any other neighbor boys who might sneak over to fuck her and pretend they loved her, like the last one did.
Eliza rapped her fingers on the armrest, a habit her mother would chastise her for. “Perhaps I’ll do so while we are here.” She wasn’t certain she would, but the idea of an orgasm that didn’t come from her own hand certainly held appeal.
Juliet smirked. “Well, house parties are perfect for slinking off with a handsome gentleman. I am certain you won’t be the only one doing so.”
“I heard that Lady Preston shall be in attendance,” Eliza said. “She is almost certain to take a lover.” The lady had lost her husband around three years ago and had developed a bit of a reputation for avoiding marriage butenjoying bringing men to her bed, among other places. Eliza supposed she couldn’t blame the lady.
“Should we take bets on who she shall select?” Juliet asked.
Eliza’s jaw dropped. “Jules!” Then a sly expression formed on her face. “Well, perhaps we shall see who pays her attention this evening and make our guesses.”
Juliet bit her bottom lip. “This is going to be fun, indeed.”
Eliza flashed a wide grin at her friend. Perhaps Juliet was right, and it was time she considered bringing another man to her bed. Marriage and love were out of the question, but she couldn’t allow herself to go the rest of her life without experiencing the wicked touch of a man again, could she? She had been naïve and lovesick then, but she had become a mature woman who knew what she wanted. She couldn’t give Nick the satisfaction of robbing her of carnal pleasures, especially after he thoroughly exposed her to the existence of such delights.
A smirk played on her lips. Perhaps Lady Preston wouldn’t be the only one assessing the men that evening. Surely someone would be in attendance who might intrigue her.
Chapter 4
Earl Nicholas Craven fixated on the fire in the bedchamber that the Ockhams had assigned to him at their country home. He wasn’t certain it had been the best idea to attend at all, but he couldn’t insult his hosts now that he had arrived. The Viscountess Ockham was intimidating, even as young as she was. She’d surely see through any excuse he made to leave.
Nick avoided any event where there might be a chance of him seeing Eliza again. After what had passed between them, he had no desire to find himself in her presence ever again. He avoided the season in London, knowing that he couldn’t avoid her in ballrooms with the entiretonpresent.
He wasn’t aware that she had any association with Lord and Lady Ockham, and it had been years since he had seen his friend Ockham. The two had gotten into a bit of mischief from time to time when they were at Cambridge, and Ockham wished for Nick to attend the gathering to meet his wife. She was a lovely woman, and the pair were an obvious love match.
Nick rolled his eyes. Love. What a farce. If he hadn’t seen for himself how enamored Ockham and his wife were with each other, he’d say that love didn’t exist at all. It was certainly not in his future. He wasn’t certain he even cared to ever take a wife. Why bother saddling himself with a woman when he knew he’d never feel anything for her? What did he care about providing an heir? Surely there was some cousin or distant relative the title could pass to. They would be delighted to elevate themselves in society, and he would never have to suffer the agonizing notion of courtship.
He did that once and didn’t care to again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have a woman in his bed anytime he wished. As a titled gentleman with ample funds, there wasn’t much he couldn’t have if he desired it. Other than love. Never that.
The love of his life rejected him and married another man. His father broke the news to him after he spent months pining for her, longing to see her and make herremember that she loved him. Even broken-hearted, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to fuck anyone else, which furthered the cruel madness that had become his life. He tried several times, paying for the company of a faceless woman, hoping to cure himself of the hold that the love of his life held on his heart and apparently his body.
It was the same thing every time. He would partake of a few drinks and then when he thought he had worked himself up enough to finally stick his cock in another woman’s mouth, cunt, or arse—he told himself he didn’t care which—he would back out at the last minute. Retreating to his rooms to fuck his own hand. Thinking about her. It was beyond pathetic, and he’d never live down the shame if anyone knew. He wasn’t certain what would cure him, but he longed for the day he would free himself from the torment.
Nick gritted his teeth and found he was beyond ready to find the nearest snifter of brandy.
He glanced at the clock on the mantle and decided he should make his way downstairs. His hostess said six sharp for his presence downstairs and he wouldn’t dream of facing her wrath should he arrive late.
Nick departed his chamber and descended the grand staircase until he reached the salon where others were gathering. The sun was setting on the horizon outsidethe glass doors, which led to a large terrace. There were several guests already mingling, and the low buzz of conversation could be heard as soon as he entered. Immediately spotting his hosts, he crossed the room to greet them.
“I am glad to see you are punctual, my lord,” the viscountess said.
Ockham pushed a glass of brandy into his hand, casting him an amused grin.
“Your husband has already informed me I shouldn’t cross you, my lady.”
She patted his arm. “I know you and my husband have been friends for many years. He speaks fondly of your days at university, and I even heard you spent some time together in Italy.”
