Vexing The Viscount Read Free

door to the lecture hall hadn’t latched behind Lucian when he took his leave, and Daisy wasn’t the sort to let an opportunity slide by. With a quick glance up and downthe corridor to make sure she wasn’t seen, she pulled the door open and sidled through as small a crack as possible.
    The entire back row of chairs was empty, so she slipped into a seat and hoped no one would notice. Once she got a look at the mosaic propped up on the dais, she was sure no one would spare her a second glance.
    The myriad of tiny colored tiles were almost completely intact. Even from her distant vantage point, she could tell that the artwork was splendid. But Daisy could see why this mosaic wasn’t on display to the general public. The subject matter would shock a sailor, and since she’d been raised by a prodigal pirate, that was saying something.
    The work was nearly the size of a hogshead of beer in a public house. All around the outside of the circular mosaic, there were scantily clad figures depicted in odd poses, some bent over, some with limbs entwined in uncomfortable-looking positions. A few were joined in groups of three instead of two.
    Daisy squinted, wishing she’d thought to borrow Great-aunt Isabella’s lorgnette. She turned her attention to the much larger representation in the center of the circular design.
    The figure was a man, his calm Roman eyes looking out on the world with amused interest, the slightest upturn to his mouth. He stood proudly, his short tunic displaying muscular legs.
    And protruding from beneath his tunic was an organ that would put Uncle Gabriel’s stallion to shame. It was as long as the man’s forearm and nearly as thick.
    Hmph! Bet that’s not life-size either
, Daisy thought, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
It looks more likely to impale than pleasure.
    Daisy often sneaked into Isabella’s library to read her collection of love poetry. Most recently, Daisy had discovered the unpublished memoirs of Mademoiselle Blanche La Tour,a French courtesan, who led an extremely adventurous life in and out of the boudoir. Mlle La Tour was not reticent in her description of either type of exploit, so Daisy’s knowledge of intimate behavior far outstripped her personal experience.
    She was reading through the journal slowly, asking Nanette, her great-aunt’s French maid, for help when her own grasp of the language proved too schoolgirlish for the subject matter. Nanette proved a font of information, as well. Daisy never imagined so much could be accomplished with something as small and seemingly insignificant as a tongue.
    She jerked herself back from her naughty musings. Lucian was speaking.
    “This mosaic was unearthed on my father’s estate in the ruins of what I confidently believe was once a Roman proconsul’s residence,” he said. “Only a regional governor would have commissioned such a work.”
    “Why do you say that?” one man spoke up. “It appears to me that any man with means would choose to have himself depicted as Priapus. I’d fancy something on that order on the boudoir walls myself.”
    Several gentlemen laughed with him.
    “Phallic cult art has always been popular, Lord Brumley, but only a politically well-connected gentleman would project his power in such a display in the foyer of his home. He must have been a proconsul, a man accustomed to obedience from those around him,” Lucian said. “And one who had no fear of his own wife.”
    Daisy covered her mouth with her gloved hand to stifle a giggle.
    Lucian certainly knows how to silence a detractor.
    Lady Brumley’s public set-downs of Lord Brumley were legendary, as was
her
family’s close connection to the Crown. Her less well-placed husband quaked behind her,walking a narrow line indeed. Lord Brumley made up for this humiliation by blustering loudly and bullying others whenever Lady Brumley was absent.
    “As you can see from the artist’s rendition,” Lucian was saying, “the Romans led a varied and