Mistletoe Menage

By Molly Ann Wishlade

It is 1816. Anne Blackburn is a wealthy and voluptuous thirty-two year old widow and she moves in the social circles of London’s ton.

Anne has sworn never to marry again. However, she yearns to find out more about the pleasures of the flesh and the passion she experienced six years ago before she married.

Edward Moore loved Anne. When he left London to seek his father’s blessing to marry her, Anne was approached by Lord Moore’s lawyer. He told her to forget Edward or he would be disinherited. She married Alfred Blackburn to set Edward free.

Now there is an artist in London with a mysterious patron. Mr. Guy Harper provides the ladies he paints with erotic extras. Anne commissions a portrait and gets more than she could have imagined in her wildest dreams.

But will her mistletoe ménage become a painful humiliation or lead to her very own happy ever after?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Dec 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781772331455

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Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Molly Ann Wishlade

ISBN: 978-1-77233-145-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To mistletoe lovers everywhere, may all your Christmas wishes come true. xxx

MISTLETOE MENAGE

Molly Ann Wishlade

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

There he is.

Anne Blackburn looked in the direction of her friend’s extended fan and spied the target. Her heart leapt and her body flooded with a rousing, tingling heat, for across the dance floor, surrounded by a group of excited, giggling debutantes, was a veritable Adonis.

Oh… She licked her lips and flicked out her fan, then hovered it over her ample chest as if to counter the fire that now coursed through her veins.

"Oh?" Lady Jane Faulkner leaned toward her. I point out the most delightful looking gentleman in the whole of Almack’s on a Wednesday evening and that is all you can say, my dear?

Anne tore her eyes away from the golden-haired vision and met Jane’s curious gaze. Her cheeks burned as she struggled to find words to articulate her thoughts.

He is…most…comely. But who is he?

Jane threw back her head and laughed, then placed a gloved hand upon Anne’s arm. "Oh, dearest Anne, that is Mr. Guy Harper, a most talented artist, and he is delightful, is he not? I fear you have been too long without male company if you describe such a man as comely. But there is a way to solve that issue, you know."

Anne shook her head. Beneath her gown and chemise, her skin was hot and she imagined the relief she would feel later when she was able to remove her stays. No. Not that. I have sworn that I will never marry again.

Jane squeezed Anne’s arm. Of course not, Anne. I am well aware of that. After suffering the loss of your cherished husband, who would blame you? But you are still young. At thirty-two, you have…needs. My dear, at my grand old age of fifty-six, I still have needs and desires. Pray lower your eyebrows, Anne, and do not seem so surprised. Jane chuckled. Just because I may have seen the end of my courses, it does not mean that my body has relinquished its enjoyment of being touched and adored. And such matters of the flesh can be catered to without resorting to marriage if a woman has wisdom enough. Now, walk with me.

Anne allowed Jane to take her arm and they strolled around Almack’s ballroom. The London social club was filled with regulars intent on making the most of the last few balls of the season. The landed and wealthy—who had chosen to stay on in London during the summer months—would soon head off to their country estates for the winter. Some of the ton vacated the city as soon as the summer heat set in, but others preferred to linger a while longer, especially those matriarchs with more than one daughter thus far unsuccessful in the marriage mart.

As they walked, Anne admired the ballroom. At one hundred feet long and forty wide, it was ideally suited to the dancing and socializing that occurred within. The white walls were paneled and divided with paired pilasters and decorated with festoons and paterae. The décor gave the room an air of opulence and decadence, which Anne was convinced would have been the desired effect when it was designed. The club only admitted those from the upper echelons of society, or those who had won the favor of the beau monde. Vouchers to attend Almack’s were not bestowed upon those that the club’s patronesses disapproved of. Anne knew that it was only her friendship with Lady Jane and her personal affluence that kept the club’s doors open to her. One foot wrong, however, and those doors could close just as quickly, leaving her a social outcast.

They neared the crowd of young women with their pastel gowns, satin slippers, and pretty, curled hairstyles. Anne was senior to most of them by at least ten years and well past the desired marriageable age, unless seeking a widower who already had several children or a rake tired of sowing his oats. Her fortune was considerable, of course, and she was aware that with her thick chestnut hair, fair skin, and generous curves, she was an attractive woman. Yet she also knew that most gentlemen considering a first marriage would be seeking youthful virgins, not more mature widows like herself.

For Anne, however, this was completely acceptable as she had no intention of marrying a second time. She enjoyed being in control of her own hearth and her own destiny. She had no inclination to find another husband to take her hand or warm her bed. Although, she had to admit, sometimes it would have been pleasant to have male company. She did miss Alfred’s kindness and their lengthy political discussions, but they hadn’t shared a bed since the first year of their marriage due to his increasing poor health. He had, of course, been advised by his physician to avoid overindulgence in food and fine wines, but they had been his greatest weakness and in the end, his demise. The thought of him brought a familiar ache to her heart and she rubbed the spot as if to soothe it. Alfred had not been the husband she would have chosen had she been allowed that freedom, but she knew that she’d been lucky. Many women ended up married to ogres who mistreated them. Alfred had treated her like a princess in every way—except for the ones that she had yearned to learn about in the marital bed.

That I