Night of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle Read Free Book Online Page A

tried not to feel guilty. “I just didn’t want to bumble my way through my own wedding night.” He bit back a knowing smile. “It was a hands-on five hour tutorial on what would make Miss Grey moan. Very educational.” He tilted back in his leather chair. “Now if you don’t mind, I need a few moments to read this. All right?”
    He snapped the letter straight. That elegant script he adored and knew all too well lured him into her world. The suffocating burdens of the estate and everything expected of him by the world fell away as he imagined Clementine’s voice. It was a voice he hadn’t physically heard since 1823, but one he still remembered as if she’d spoken to him yesterday.
     
    Dear Banfield,
    Your last letter took some time to reach me, given I was traveling again. It must have been lost as there are half a dozen postmarks, and signs of enough wear to indicate it might have traveled to the moon. I was happy to receive it, along with all of your warm thoughts. I was very sorry to hear that your poor mother’s cat died after being mauled by a neighbor’s dog. It would seem not even our cats are safe in this world. Please pass along my condolences, which I will be able to offer in person soon. As you well know I will be leaving New York in a few weeks, for which I am most grateful. I have never been all that fond of Broadway Society as the people here seem to think their money makes them right. By the time you receive this letter, I will already be en route to London and if the weather is fair and willing, Father says we should arrive in early April. I look forward to seeing you again after all these years. There is certainly a lot for us to discuss.
    Sincerely,
    Clementine Henrietta Grey
     
    He grudgingly folded the letter. Twice. All of her previous letters had been much warmer and chattier. He couldn’t quite make it out, but it was as if she had cooled to him. He’d waited eight long months to hear from her – eight – only to receive a mere ‘Sincerely’ and a ‘There is certainly a lot for us to discuss.’ In his opinion, there wasn’t anything to discuss. He was going to damn well tongue the lips off that woman the moment they were alone.
    Opening the drawer filled with all of her letters, he set her latest atop his regulated pile and paused at seeing the oval miniature portrait she’d sent. Painted blue eyes peered up at him. Black ringlets of long hair framed her pale face, accentuating the detailed brush strokes against the small canvas. The first time he’d seen it, he’d stared at it for hours unable to believe she’d grown even more beautiful.
    Andrew leaned across the desk. “Why not pull her portrait out and set it on your desk?”
    Derek slammed the drawer shut. “I stare at it enough already.”
    A bright mockery invaded that stare. “Admit it. You were soft for her from the moment you and she met.”
    That was a fucking understatement. Over the years, he’d grown to not only mindlessly yearn for her but had come to genuinely love her for always letting him write whatever words he needed to. Good days. Bad days. And everything in between. Her letters, though not as many as his own, insinuated she had become everything he had always imagined her to be. Intelligent, witty, overly proper and kind. Everything that made his blood zing. The memorable ten weeks they spent together back in ’23 carried him through every single one of these seven years. On their last day together, when she set her own pale cheek and a gloved hand against the carriage window in quiet farewell, it hinted at what their married life would be: absolutely darling. Like her.
    Andrew rumbled out a laugh. “Oh, come now. There is no need to look so depressed. Being soft isn’t always a bad thing. It simply means—” He let out a whistle and veered his forefinger down onto the desk. He hit it. “You’re no longer in control. She is.”
    Derek leaned back against his leather chair. “That is exactly