A December Debauchery

By Em Brown

The Viscount Carrington exacts a wicked price from the woman who insulted him. For him to consider approving marriage between his ward and her son, she must agree to surrender herself to him for three nights of passion and debauchery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Em Brown
• Release date: Feb 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781942822974

Em Brown

After accidentally flashing an audience with her knickers, Em Brown decided that writing was a safer activity. She enjoys writing romance, particularly erotic historicals. For more about her works, visit www.EroticHistoricals.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Settled into his seat , the Viscount Carrington stretched his legs as far as he could in the confines of the carriage and observed the only other occupant in the vehicle seated across from him. Adeline, a young woman and his ward, had not spoken to him the whole of their ride to the first of many Yuletide gatherings and stared rather anxiously out the window. He would have much preferred to skip the festivities in favor of spending a sennight at Château Follet, his favorite den of debauchery where guests indulged in taboo proclivities. But as Lady Bettina, their grandmother, nursed a cough, it fell to him to accompany Adeline to the Moorington ball.

Am I such tiresome company these days that you cannot find two words to speak to me? Arthur tried in a teasing tone.

Startled, Adeline turned her large blue eyes toward him. With her dark golden curls and petite frame, she presented a contrast to him.

You? Tiresome? Never! she assured. I was preoccupied—worried that the snow might make us late to the ball.

She glanced out the window once more. He followed her gaze and noted the ground bore a light coat of white beneath the bright moonlight, but the carriage continued easily upon the road. He looked back to Adeline, who continued to look silently out the window, unsure what to make of her taciturn mood. Perhaps it was customary for young women of her age, seven and ten, to vacillate between reticence and loquacity. He had assumed guardianship of her just prior to her come-out, and though she spent more time in the company of Lady Bettina, than in his, he felt he knew Adeline well enough to detect that something was amiss. Adeline had been distracted ever since returning from Bath with Lady Bettina.

If anything, I think we shall be early, he told her.

She seemed not to hear him and made no response. He eyed her more keenly, looking for signs that she might be unwell, but she had a healthy glow to her countenance. Beneath her coat, she wore a gown of silver and white that perfectly displayed her slender arms. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with just the right amount of tendrils curling loosely about her physiognomy to provide a diaphanous appearance. Were he not seven years her senior and her guardian, he might have considered her worthy of conquest.

His observation took in the small but simple necklace with a single opal solitaire, and he was rather surprised that she had not chosen to wear the diamond and sapphire he had gifted her for her birthday.

Is that new? he asked.

She turned to him with raised brows.

He pointed to the necklace.

She put a hand to the opal and flushed. Oh. A trinket from a...friend. In honor of St. Nicholas Day.

The scenery outside the window seemed to captivate her once more.

He raised his brows. A friend?

She glanced briefly at him, nodded, then returned to the window.

What friend is this? he prodded.

I can see the Moorington estate! she cried.

Either she had not heard him or she needed a diversion. He wagered it was the latter.

"Do you think they will serve apples a la parisienne? she continued, her earlier reticence gone in an instant. I found it such a wondrous dessert when they had it for Twelfth Night last year. As much as I love plum pudding, it was quite exciting to try something new."

He allowed her to prattle on, but as the carriage drew nearer to their destination, she fell once more into silence. Her body, however, was hardly quiet. Her hand tapped her fan against her reticule. Her feet shifted restlessly.

Something was afoot with Adeline, Arthur decided. Something having to do with the Moorington ball. And he determined that he would uncover whatever it was she was keeping from him before the night’s conclusion.

PHILIPPA GRAYSON NEARLY toppled over in her attempt to look around the gentleman standing in front of her, blocking her view of her son, George, who stood on the other side of the ballroom with his twin sister, Honora. Her children were speaking with the Moorington girls, Emily and Jane, and though Emily giggled often at what George had to say, the interest seemed to flow primarily in one direction. It would not be Jane Moorington who had captured her son’s heart for she had a beau. Though Philippa supposed it was possible for George to have fallen for the flaxen-haired beauty, she prayed he had enough sense not to pursue a woman already spoken for. But the fact that George would not reveal the name of his lady of interest did give Philippa pause.

La! I suppose you have been here all night, mused Melinda St. John as she took a seat beside her friend and fanned her ample décolletage with an ornate fan. I have been thrice down the dance floor despite being a full ten years your senior. You cannot claim to be forty years yet but sit about as if you were an eighty year old widow.

I am indeed a widow, Philippa replied as she watched George greet and smile at a redhead. Was this young lady the one?

Melinda followed Philippa’s gaze. Who are you staring at? A handsome rogue, I hope.

He has asked her to dance, Philippa murmured to herself. To her friend she asked, Who is that dancing with George?

Melinda frowned. Have you only eyes for your children?

Philippa made a face. Who else would I have eyes for?

Melinda poked her in the arm with her fan. Yourself, of course.

Me?

La! Why not? Melinda looked Philippa over. "The years have been kind to you. You have a decent figure. No one would condemn you as it has been years since your husband passed. God rest his soul, but you are a living woman, with, dare I say, needs. La! I have needs, and, alas, my husband is very much alive."

I should see my children settled first. They are both of them twenty and, till they are married, they are in my care.

Why do you worry? Honora has more suitors than she needs. I thought it quite grand that she had the eye of an Earl last season.

"While there are many men who seek her attention, not all of them have matrimony in mind. They cannot for we have not breeding, and our wealth is not what it once was. But if George were to make a good match, I think his sister’s might improve. And he is besotted. He confessed that he has never been more in love. In love. My George has never used the word before, and I have never before seen him in such gay spirits. But he will not tell me who she is. Of course I was quite disappointed that he would not, but he assured me that it was not because he was critical of me and that he would provide her name as soon as he had permission to grant it."

Melinda furrowed her brow. And why would she not grant it?

I know not. But young people these days prefer their independence. They are not as accustomed as we were to being watched and scrutinized. Honora knows her name but is sworn to keep her brother’s secret.

That is what comes of having twins. Melinda tapped her fan on Philippa. Look! There is Sir Tallmadge. What do you think of him? Not bad for a widower of fifty, eh?

I could hardly aspire to someone of his stature, Philippa dismissed, keeping her gaze upon George and his dance partner as they came down the line. Her late husband had come into wealth through trade and, thus, considered common stock.

I would agree if you were seeking courtship with him, but for a lover, I think he would as likely take you to bed as anyone.

Philippa blushed to the roots of her hair.

Or, look there, Mr. Gregory. Always proper. A bit dull for my taste, but he might suit you. He’s not married as yet, though I wonder why. He has property that brings him five thousand a year.

Mr. Gregory is but thirty years of age!

"For a lover, the younger the better! Now there is one whom I should very much like in my bed. I should not care if he had any skills in lovemaking but would be content to stare at his naked form