A Matter of Sin Read online

“After I was widowed I took on the important duty of seeing my two sisters married,” she said, more to remind herself, perhaps, than to inform the marquis.

  Lyndham nodded. “Ah yes, your duty, Isabel.”

  She jerked her head up. Had he just called her by her first name? Not only was it wholly inappropriate, but she was certain she hadn’t given it to him.

  “But now you have one sister married and are here with Lady Serena,” Lyndham continued. “Who I am certain will find a match soon. Do you have plans after that happy day?”

  Isabel swallowed. She had imagined he used her given name. But his mention of Serena she couldn’t forget or pretend away. She was why Isabel was here, not to stand in the middle of libraries with handsome men at godforsaken hours of the night.

  “I hadn’t really thought of it, my lord,” she said, taking a step away from him. “My focus must be on my sister now, nothing else.”

  His brow wrinkled as if he disagreed with that assessment, but Isabel didn’t allow him to press her on these personal subjects that seemed even more inappropriate when they were alone in the wee hours of the morning. Not to mention when she still held what amounted to a sex book in her hands.

  “If you will forgive me, my lord,” she said, moving toward the door slowly. “I find I’m beginning to tire.”

  “Of course,” he said with a slight frown. “I would not keep you from your slumber. Good night, my lady.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder as she slipped from the room. “Good night, my lord.”

  The moment she was free, Isabel hurried upstairs, too fearful to look behind her in case Lyndham was watching her. As though if she glanced at him one final time, he would know the wicked thoughts that were in her head.

  Inside her chamber, she closed her door and leaned back against it, her breath coming in bursts as she pressed the farming book against her breasts and felt them lift and fall with every gasp.

  She looked down at the book with a blush. Even alone, she wasn’t certain that what she had done was proper or right. Oh, hell, she knew it wasn’t, but she was driven by such curiosity that she couldn’t stop herself.

  She moved to the fireside and sank into a soft, cushioned chair there. Setting aside the farming book, she stared at The Ladies Book of Pleasures for a second time that night. Her excitement increased, for this time it was in brighter light and no one would catch her in the midst of her perusal.

  Her hands trembled as she opened the book. The first page was a dedication she hadn’t noticed in her fervor in the library.

  The lady thanks her editor, for all his counsel.

  Isabel flushed as she thought of some man reading this book. But then again, since she had found this in his library, probably Lord Lyndham was the owner of this copy. Had he looked over its pages as she did now? Had it been a gift from some woman…?

  “Stop!” Isabel hissed out loud, squeezing her eyes shut. “The situation is untenable as it is! No more thoughts of that man, of any man, while you read something so scandalous.”

  She looked down again as she turned the page. A gasp escaped her lips. There was an illustration. A printed sketch of a woman, her gown parted in the front, leaning over a seated man, their lips almost touching. Her hand was pressed against his bare chest and his hand was sliding up her inner thigh, moving toward…

  “Oh my,” Isabel whispered.

  A thin sheen of sweat had broken on her top lip and her body was warm, too warm, considering her fire had burned down while she was out of the room.

  She began to read. The “lady” author, whomever she was, launched immediately into a lecture about women of the upper crust and how they pretended away their sensual side. She claimed her book was a way to “press away those chains of propriety and awaken the sensuality within”.

  Isabel swallowed. Perhaps this would all be too advanced for her, for she wasn’t certain she had a great deal of “sensuality within” to awaken. She turned the page and drew back in surprise at what she read.

  Pleasure yourself before you think of offering or receiving pleasure from a man.

  And if that wasn’t enough, the book went on to explain exactly how a lady should touch herself.

  “You may even fantasize about a specific man while you do this,” Isabel read out loud. “Picture his hands, his mouth on you while you pleasure yourself. He can be a husband, a faceless lover…even a footman, as long as his image makes you lose control in the most remarkable ways.”

  Isabel’s entire body tingled as she set the book aside and stared into the fire.

  Pleasure herself.

  Oh, it wasn’t that she had never done so. There were a few clandestine times in her bed before her marriage, even once since Hartley’s death, although she had felt the same kind of shame the “lady” who authored the book decried as foolish.

  But it had been so long. So long since anyone touched her in a way meant to arouse or please. And she found, now that the book…or the Pandora’s Box…had been opened, that she couldn’t stop thinking about what the “lady” suggested.

  She got up and stripped off her gown where she stood. It took her longer than normal because she dared not call her maid for help, but finally she kicked the pretty frock of silk and satin away and left herself in only her chemise and a silken pair of drawers.

  She retook her seat and gently lifted her hand to her chest. At first she only lightly brushed her collarbone, and yet her body was so on edge that even that slight touch set her on fire and made the sensitive area between her legs throb in a most shocking and pleasurable fashion.

  Her body’s needs almost immediately overcame her shyness and uncertainty. With a daring she never would have claimed if questioned, Isabel’s fingers moved lower until she cupped her own breast. She found her nipple was already hard and exquisitely sensitive after being ignored for so long. As she swirled her finger around the bud, she thought again of the book.

  It had advised that she could think of a man’s hands on her while she did this. But Hartley, while a good husband, wasn’t exactly her fantasy. She didn’t know about the “lady’s” footmen, but her own were either too old or too young to make a good fantasy lover… Plus, she feared if she did that she would never be able to look them in the eye again.

  Which left some other man. She shut her eyes, willing herself to form a faceless stranger to be her lover in her mind.

  Only when he materialized, he wasn’t faceless at all. Looming over her, his hand replacing her own on her sensitive breast, was the Marquis of Lyndham.

  Isabel’s eyes flew open.

  Hadn’t she just chided herself for thinking of him, and now this? This wickedness where she imagined him replacing his hand on her nipple with his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around until her body exploded in liquid fire and she couldn’t make any sound except incoherent gasps of pleasure.

  She blinked as she realized her hand on her breast had begun to pluck harder and the other hand, well, somehow she had managed to slide it into the slit in her drawers and cup her own sex quite shockingly.

  Worse, it felt good. No matter how she had lost her final shreds of resistance, now that she was touching and stroking herself with such an earnest drive for pleasure, her whole body shook with it. It was better than anything, and she wanted to take it to its logical end.

  She shoved aside her regrets and reason and dove back into her fantasy, allowing her image to be Lyndham since that was what she craved. Lyndham driving his tongue between her lips as his fingers worked along the slick, hot petals of her sex and finally spread her open and breached her.

  She panted as she stroked herself, jerking with every burst of pleasure, shaking as she neared completion and suddenly, without warning, she found it.

  Her whole body spasmed as her sex clenched and released around her fingers, soaking them as she cried out with absolute pleasure.

  She stayed in the chair for a long while, trembling as her body came down from the intense high she ha
d just experienced. For the first time perhaps in years, she was relaxed and satiated and utterly spent.

  But within a few moments, her mind cleared. She realized just how she had found that release. With a book she had stolen from a man she had then fantasized as her lover.

  As her cheeks heated and she flung herself into her bed to hide from what she had done, she wondered if she would ever be able to face herself…or Lord Lyndham again.

  Chapter Three

  “So often we hide our true natures, but what do we fear? The judgment of others? Or the revelation of our true selves?”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  Seth found that he continued to contemplate the fetching Lady Avenbury the next morning as he paced his office. In fact, she was such a distraction that he couldn’t concentrate on the paperwork he was obliged to finish before he could join the day’s festivities.

  It was the oddest thing. After all, while it was unusual to meet a lady in the library after midnight, their exchange had been nothing but appropriate.

  Except that she had seemed nervous. A bewitching kind of nervousness that made her lick her lips, probably without even knowing it. The kind that brought a blush to her cheeks whenever he moved closer to her.

  Yes, the lady had been utterly charming, just as she had been charming and beautiful every time his eyes had found her on any ballroom floor they shared over the past decade, but he had never experienced this intense obsession with her after she slipped from view. Those wayward thoughts he’d had upon discovering she would be staying in his home certainly were not lessened by the few moments they had shared after midnight.

  There was a light rap on his door and as Seth turned, Jason let himself in, his eyes heavy.

  “Your mother is a barbarian to plan a fete so early in the day,” he muttered as he threw himself into a chair and poured himself a cup of coffee from the set on the desk.

  Seth laughed. “It is nearly noon; I do not count that as early.”

  “Civilized people do,” Jason insisted as he made a face when he tasted the bitter brew. “And you don’t seem particularly chipper this morning, either, so do not dare judge me.”

  Seth shrugged as he took his chair. “I admit, I had a late night, though probably not as late as yours.”

  Jason flashed a brief, wicked grin. “Do tell.”

  Seth leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. “Do you recall when I asked about Lady Avenbury yesterday?”

  Jason stopped drinking his coffee and leaned forward with eyes wide. “Great God, you didn’t—”

  When Seth saw his friend’s expression, he waved his hands. “No! Your mind is utterly depraved.”

  His friend actually looked disappointed. “So what about the lady, then?”

  “I found her in my library in the wee hours and we had a very brief conversation.” Seth frowned as he recalled the entire exchange once again.

  “Hmm,” Jason murmured, though Seth could tell that the idea of conversation with a woman held little interest for his libertine of a friend. “I wonder, while you were in the library did the two of you discuss the little present I left for you there?”

  “Whatever are you—” Before Seth could finish the thought, he recalled their conversation from the previous day. “Oh yes, you did say that you left that naughty book there, didn’t you? What is it called again?”

  Jason grinned. “The Ladies Book of Pleasures, though how you could forget that title I have no idea. It conjures such wicked images. Did you see it? How did Lady Avenbury react to it being there?”

  Seth shook his head. “I realize you rarely put yourself someplace so common as a library, but allow me to enlighten you. There are dozens of shelves in that room and the lighting was dim last night. I’m afraid to say I didn’t see it.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. . “But I left the book on that small table beside the fire. Right out in plain sight where it could shock, amuse and arouse anyone who entered.”

  Folding his arms, Seth thought back to the night before. He had been so interested in Isabel that it was possible he had missed the book…except…except that he had looked directly at the small table beside the fire. That was where Isabel had set her book on farming.

  He recalled the moment perfectly because it had afforded him the chance to get too close to her for propriety. A marvelous thing, since he had been able to feel the warmth of her body when he leaned around her.

  And he was quite certain, in that moment of complete clarity, that there had been no other book on the table. Especially not The Ladies Book of Pleasures, which he certainly would have noticed when inappropriate thoughts had been crowding the corners of his mind.

  “The book wasn’t there,” he said with a shrug. “I’m certain of it.”

  Jason leaned back, his mouth quirking before he let out a laugh. “So someone stole it? How marvelous! In a house full of innocents and one apparently intriguing widow, someone has stolen the most talked about book in a decade.”

  Seth shook his head at the thought. Though he normally didn’t indulge himself in Jason’s ridiculous games, at least not anymore, he had to admit it was a fascinating turn of events if it was true.

  “Oh, wait,” Jason said, eyes widening with ever-increasing pleasure. “Do you think Lady Avenbury herself was the culprit?”

  Seth’s breath caught in his throat. The very idea of the oddly charming and very beautiful lady reading that book in her chamber had him on edge in a moment. His addled mind now attempted to create images of that very thing.

  “N-no,” he stammered, trying to rein in the powerful reaction. “Of course not. She seems too proper for such a thing.”

  “The ones who seem the most proper are often the ones who surprise you.” Jason gave a knowing grin. “And she was in the library. Was she there before you came in?”

  “Yes—” Seth admitted slowly.

  “Then it is possible she took the book!” Jason said with a slam of his hands on the desk. “Great God, what an excellent mystery to solve. You must uncover the culprit.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—” Seth began, though he found he too was curious as to who could have taken the book and for what purpose.

  “No, don’t fight me on this. You must uncover the truth for my sake, if nothing more, for I am dying to know which lady is entertaining herself with such a thing.” Jason smiled. “Admit it, you are just as curious as I am.”

  Seth shook his head at his friend’s enthusiasm, but finally he shrugged. “Very well, I admit it does intrigue me. But when it turns out it was just a maid who put it away or a chaperone who found it and decided to hide it to protect her charge’s virtue, you will be quite put out.”

  Jason’s eyebrows lifted. “If that is the answer, I will be, indeed. But I have a feeling that the culprit is going to turn out to be a far more interesting one.”

  Isabel paced the length of the chamber, stared at the door and then paced the opposite direction. With every tick of the clock, her thoughts grew louder and her guilt increased.

  Finally, the knob turned and the Duchess of Jameswood swept into the room, her entourage of servants close behind.

  “Grace!” Isabel said on something between a cry and a sigh of relief.

  Grace looked around. “This is my chamber, is it not?”

  She asked the question while facing Isabel, but it was evident her words were directed toward the footman who trailed behind her, carrying several trunks.

  “Y-yes, Your Grace,” he stammered as he set his burden down.

  “It is, my dear,” Isabel rushed to add. “I found out which one it would be from a servant and decided to wait here until your arrival.”

  Grace drew back slightly and examined Isabel’s face. When she spoke, it was in a calm, even tone, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. “You must have something very important to discuss, if you went to so much trouble.” She turned to her servants. “Please set these things down anywhere and give me half an hour with my friend.”
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  No one argued, and within a minute they were alone, the door swinging shut behind the last of the servants.

  “Now,” Grace said as she tugged her spotless white gloves from her fingers one by one. “What has happened? It isn’t Serena, is it?”

  Isabel swallowed hard. Now that Grace was here, she felt foolish revealing the topic currently burning in her soul.

  “No,” she said softly. “It isn’t Serena. Serena is currently with Lady Olivier and her daughter, Sarah.”

  “Sarah the chatterbox best friend?” Grace asked. “Saints preserve us.”

  But Isabel couldn’t smile, despite Grace’s quip.

  “This isn’t trouble with anyone else in your family, is it?” Grace asked, coming forward suddenly, her otherwise calm expression now filled with worry.

  “Oh no!” Isabel said swiftly. “Everyone is well, though I thank you for your concern.”

  Grace shook her head slightly. “Then what is it, my dear? It isn’t your nature to come pacing another person’s chamber in wait for them. Even mine. So tell me, what has happened that has made you so pale and nervous?”

  “Oh, Gracie,” Isabel said as she sank into the nearest chair. “D-do you recall our conversation just before we left for this gathering?”

  Grace’s eyes went wide. “About you taking…” her voice dropped to a whisper, though there was no one within earshot, “…a lover?”

  Isabel barely managed a quick nod.

  Grace moved closer. “Are you telling me you’ve done so since your arrival?”

  “No,” Isabel said, instantly banishing the wicked thoughts of Lord Lyndham that entered her mind when that subject was broached. “Of course not. But we also discussed that book…The Ladies Book of Pleasures that day.”

  Grace smiled slightly. “Oh yes, of course. But why does that trouble you? The conversation was over a week ago and you said you hadn’t yet read it.”

  “I-I found a copy in Lord Lyndham’s library and I…I…” She gasped for air. “I took it.”

  Her friend took a step back and stared at Isabel in silence for almost half a minute. Then, to Isabel’s surprise and slight annoyance, the duchess began to laugh.