Read Her Husband's Harlot for Free Online

a bawdy house among her acquaintances. Helena knew better than to
ask, however. 'Twas not Marianne's style to offer much in the way of
explanation. "She was quite pleasant, and not at all what I imagined. Do
you know she actually offered me lemonade?"
    Marianne
laughed, arranging her tangerine-colored skirts with an elegant flick of the wrist.
"The Abbess can be charming when it pleases her. When I told her of your
plight, she quite enjoyed the tale of your wifely devotion. That, and the extra
guineas I supplied for her discretion. Did she make good on her promise of a
private room?"
    Helena felt heat creep up her neck. She took another swallow
of tea.
    "She
did not? I shall have to have a word with her." A tinge of peach appeared
on Marianne's high cheekbones. "I specifically instructed her to—"
    "Oh
no, it was not the Abbess' fault," Helena protested, setting down the
saucer. "She did have a room. It is just that I—I did not make it quite
that far. To the room, I mean."
    "Oh,
Helena, tell me you did not play the part of the wilting orchid. Really,
after all my efforts! Did you even find your husband?"
    Helena's
chin rose a little at Marianne's mocking tone. "I found Harteford."
    "And
what transpired? Did you confront him with your demands for fidelity?"
    "Well,
in truth, our conversation did not progress that far."
    "He
was angry, then, that you followed him to the Nunnery. How very hypocritical of
him. And how typically male." Rolling her eyes, Marianne crossed her arms
beneath her bosom. The movement elevated her bodice à la Grecque to
eye-popping effect. Helena glanced down at her own neckline and shrugged
experimentally. Nothing. The starched surface of her chemisette obscured any
interesting movement.
    "He
was not angry, exactly. At least, he did not appear so." Shifting against
the cushions, Helena felt the blush suffuse her cheeks. "He seemed quite
... pleased, actually."
    "Pleased?
If you did not talk with him, why in Heaven's name would he ..." Grasping
the implication of Helena's words, Marianne gave a wicked peal of laughter. "Dearest,
did you seduce your own husband?"
    Helena nodded, a frisson of pleasure sweeping through
her body. Her breasts suddenly ached with their own weight, and her nipples
tightened at the memory of his long fingers, the way he had cupped and stroked
and kneaded her there. He'd called them her tits , chanted his praise of
them in a voice so dark and thick it raised goose bumps on her flesh even now.
    "Dare
I ask ... the event, was it enjoyable?"
    Helena looked at Marianne's laughing, candid eyes and felt
something loosen in her chest. All her life, she had been taught that certain
topics were never to be thought of or, heaven forbid, alluded to in
polite company. But thinking about her mother's inadequate wedding night
advice, she felt another rebellious tug and then suddenly something flew open
within her. "Oh, Marianne, it was quite so!"
    There,
she'd said it. Exhilarated, she almost snatched a jam tart from the plate. She
caught herself in time and clasped her hands together instead. She waited for
her friend's reaction. Surely, she had managed to shock Marianne.
    "And
well it should be," Marianne said. "I have often wondered why the beau
monde considers love matches to be unfashionable. In my experience,
loveless marriages become quite tedious in a short space of time."
    "I
am not certain ours is a love match. At least, not on his part." The
reality of her night's activities deflated some of her elation.
    "Did
you not say your reunion was quite satisfactory?"
    Helena's
skin tingled as she recalled the hunger in Nicholas' expression. When she had
touched his chest, his whole body had vibrated like the string of a finely-tuned
violin. Then came that glittering moment, when she'd felt heat swoosh between
her legs and explode like firecrackers throughout her body ... and his hoarse cries had mingled with hers. In that instant, feeling the gallop of his
heart beat next to hers,