Promise of Pleasure Read Free

what had transpired? What would she say? That she’d been groped and maligned by a reprobate?
    Gad! Mrs. Bainbridge had to be Redvers’s mistress, yet he’d brought her to Barnes Manor with no thought to Felicity.
    How could Felicity marry him? He was depraved in a manner beyond comprehension.
    While Victoria had first crowed over Redvers’s visit, she’d been brutally frank about his scandalous character. But had she been informed as to the extent of his corruption?
    Victoria was a baronet’s daughter, who’d married down by accepting Mary’s father. She’d never forgiven him for her plunge in status, and she was determined to rectify her mistake by arranging a lofty union for Felicity. Victoria was set on the match with Redvers—as was Felicity herself.
    Dare Mary enlighten them as to the true state of his degeneracy? Would they be concerned about it?
    As Victoria often counseled, a woman could overlook many faults in order to become a countess.
    Feeling conflicted but more calm, Mary was about to tiptoe away when she noticed the door to the dressing chamber hadn’t shut all the way; she could peek through the crack and spy on Redvers. And though she was positive she’d be damned for all eternity, she did exactly that.
    Mrs. Bainbridge was standing very close to him, stroking a wet cloth across his chest and stomach.
    “Better?” she asked as she tossed the cloth on the floor.
    “Much.”
    “I can’t believe you let that drab little maid assist you.”
    “She was convenient.”
    “If I hadn’t walked in, I suppose you’d have had her skirt up over her head.”
    “Most likely.”
    Mrs. Bainbridge leveled a glance that was meant to both chastise and seduce.
    “You know I detest it when you dabble with slatterns.”
    “And you know that it’s none of your business. Don’t presume to scold me.”
    She scowled as if she might quarrel, but on seeing his stony expression, her pout changed to a smile.
    “You are the worst libertine in the world,” she charged.
    “I’ve never denied it.”
    “Let me remind you of why you don’t need anyone but me.”
    “Yes, why don’t you? My encounter with that little drab—as you call her—has left me out of sorts. Why don’t you do something interesting to earn your keep?”
    “You don’t pay me any longer, remember? Not since your father snipped the financial cord.”
    “Then do it for free—and get on with it.”
    “Ooh, you are such a wretch! Why do I put up with you?”
    “Because you’re mad about me, and you know it.”
    “I know nothing of the kind.”
    “Give over, Lauretta,” he chided, using her Christian name. “You’re a mercenary, and you’ve cast your lot with me. Your claws will be dug in till I’ve inherited and spent my old man’s last farthing.”
    “Yes, they will, and Felicity be damned.”
    “Yes,” he concurred. “Felicity be damned.”
    Their cold words cut Mary to the quick. She wanted to sneak out, to escape the evil pair, but despicable as it sounded, she remained rooted to her spot.
    Mrs. Bainbridge grabbed the waistband of his trousers, pulled him to her, and initiated a passionate kiss. Their lips were melded, their arms entwined, their hands everywhere, and Mary watched, agog, as they writhed and touched.
    Other than a hasty, furtive embrace she’d once witnessed at the harvest fair, she couldn’t recollect ever having seen two people kissing. She hadn’t understood that it would be so physical, and the spectacle rattled her.
    She felt tingly all over. Her nipples hardened and throbbed; her heart started pounding again.
    Mrs. Bainbridge pushed him out of sight, which irritated Mary enormously. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear their groans and sighs, the rustling of fabric. A few minutes later, Mrs. Bainbridge moved back into view. There was scant evidence to clarify what had occurred, but the woman’s dress was askew and her hair had fallen from its combs.
    She flashed a confident grin at Redvers.