Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,35
loss is my gain. Let’s get you settled in your bedchamber. Then we’ll leave for our appointment with the solicitor to sign the agreement.” He escorted her across the large foyer, past the parlor, to the stairs. “The ladies are all abed. We close the business at six. They’re usually ravenous by then so breakfast is served before they retire. If you’re not an early riser, I can instruct the cook to prepare another meal later for you.”
“As I’ve been getting up long before dawn in order to prepare food for Griff before he left for the docks, I suspect I’ll find myself continuing to awaken at an ungodly hour.”
“You cook?”
“I wouldn’t go that far in describing my skill. We ate mostly cheese, bread, and boiled eggs, anything that required little preparation.”
“You’ll have better selections here. I could have enticed you with that.”
“You offered more than adequate inducements.”
He started up the stairs. “Beginning tomorrow, your mornings will be yours to do with as you please. The others sleep until half twelve or so. Luncheon is served at one. You’ll begin your lessons at two. I thought a couple of hours a day would suffice, although you’re welcome to adjust the schedule to suit you. We dine at half six. The women prepare for the night. The doors are open to customers at eight.”
She wondered if all brothels ran with such efficiency or if this one was simply more of a reflection of its owner.
At the landing she glanced quickly—and guiltily—down the ordinary corridor at the row of doors, behind which naughtiness occurred. Did the chambers contain large beds, mirrors, scarlet satin sheets, silk-covered chairs?
“You can explore if you like,” he said, humor lacing his voice, making her realize she’d stopped walking while he had continued on and was now leaning on the balustrade several steps up. “They won’t bite.”
Mortification warmed her skin. “No, I just . . . I’d rather see my room.”
She breathed a little easier when they reached the next level.
“My study.” He pointed to a closed door at the nearer end of the hallway. “You can usually find me there.”
He crossed over to an open doorway. “The library. You’ll tutor the ladies in here.”
Peering inside, she felt a contentment settle over her at the familiar musty scent and the shelves of books, so many books. “I hadn’t expected a library in a brothel.”
“This floor isn’t considered part of the brothel. It’s considered our residence.” He glanced around. “And I like books.”
“Are these all yours, then?”
“Every single one.”
They must have cost him a fortune. She couldn’t stop herself from walking over to the wide, tall bookcase that lined one wall. It contained an astonishing assortment of leather-bound volumes. She was surprised by the variety and number and how unworn so many of them appeared. “Is anyone welcome to read them?”
“They are.”
She crossed back over to him and smiled softly. “You probably could have gotten me for half the cost if you’d shown me this.”
“You enjoy reading?”
“I do, very much.”
Her answer seemed to please him. “Meet me here tonight at ten. It’s where we’ll begin your lessons.”
Her lessons. On seduction. She’d expected them to take place in a bed or at least near one, but she refrained from questioning him on it because she’d suddenly become unbearably warm.
“We should move on,” he said quietly. “We haven’t much time before we need to be at the solicitor’s.”
“Yes, of course.”
He led her to a door at the end of the long hallway, swung it open, and indicated she should go in first. Throwing back her shoulders, she swept by him and was immediately hit with the scent of him. Sandalwood and cinnamon and something darker, richer, more enticing, a scent uniquely him. A scent that would fill her lungs if she breathed in his skin. In the library. In a bed.
Perhaps the library was to be merely the starting point and they’d end up in here. On the four-poster bed, with the pale lilac counterpane and deep purple pillows.
As though it was a sin to look at the bed, to consider what might transpire there, she jerked her gaze away from it and gave the remainder of the room an intense scrutiny. The walls were papered in lavender. A winged chair of mauve brocade with violets embroidered in violet, of course, rested near the fireplace. A dark mahogany wardrobe dominated one wall. A mahogany escritoire and a wooden straight-backed chair with a padded purple cushion rested near the window. She imagined