It's been three weeks since the evening Lord John Mallory, Marquess of Davenport, first encountered Lady Evelyn. Since that moment he hadn't had a moment's reprieve from the thought of her. More to the point, the thought of having her.
His predicament wasn't helped by the constant, incessant gossip that pervades Lady Evelyn's every move. Not a single day passed without her name being uttered. Lady Evelyn was seen riding and taking tea with so and so. She wore a fashionable new gown to yet another ball. Yes, she still resides with the Warwick's. No, no one knew anything more about her life before her arrival.
Lord Davenport always listened in silence whenever she was mentioned. He gave no outward indication that she was of any particular interest to him. It simply wouldn't do for anyone to suspect he too had joined the ranks of Lady Evelyn's growing admirers. The idea that anyone would group him with the rest of the lovelorn young bucks was simply detestable to him, but he drank in every bit of the tittle tattle.
There was, of course, Philip's feelings to consider, he supposed.
With some difficulty, Lord Davenport kept his distance. Yet, she managed to materialize at the odd moments when he was on his way to his club or Westminster or any number of other places as part of his normal routine. She was always accompanied by a gaggle of the Warwick household, always a picture of perfect beauty and impeccable refinement next to the over-trimmed Lady Warwick and her equally horrible sisters. On a few occasions their eyes did meet but she never acknowledged him, nor he her. Still he carried the image of her with him for the rest of the day.
Life was too predictable and stagnant, he thought ruefully. That's why he was so intrigued by her. She presented a puzzle to him when there were few true challenges left in life. Soon, God willing, she will marry and move to the country and produce a litter of brats for some unhappy sod, and he would have forgotten her.
It's been two weeks since Lord Davenport received the latest long missive from his father one morning just as he sat down to his breakfast. As with all his father's letters this one was terse and to the point: In short, the Marquess of Davenport MUST take a wife soon and start producing heirs. There was a veiled threat that if he did not see to this duty, his father the Duke of Northumberland, will chose his bride. For one brief horrifying moment, Lord Davenport had half expected the Duke to add: I've chosen Lady Evelyn! God was merciful, however and no specific young lady was mentioned.
Lord Davenport didn't finish reading the letter before balling it in his fist which he pressed against his throbbing feverish forehead. He really should have declined that last two fingers of whiskey the night before.
The prospect of marriage was neither appealing nor unappealing to Lord Davenport. It simply must be done... one day... in the future. For the sake of begetting heirs. He would rather not have his father bring it up to him however. He'd rather not hear from his father at all with concerns for his future.
"Sod it!" He tossed the crumpled letter into the fire.
Lord Davenport decided to go out a bit and allow the brisk, blustery air to clear away his headache. Rather than taking his horse, he ordered his carriage to drive aimlessly about the city. The sounds and smells of London calmed him somewhat at first, but soon his headache returned. He called for his driver to turn to a darker, seedier part of the city, where the air was more foul, the cobbled streets more narrow and the crush of griping bodies more worn and weary.
From his carriage window, he pursued the grubby faces that peered back at him. The last holdouts from a night of debauchery, no doubt. There were a few hapless feminine faces that didn't look too diseased and passably attractive. Finally he saw one that would do. She was rather plain, with a smattering of freckles on a plump face and coppery hair. He gestured for her to step into his carriage.
The girl did not speak, didn't make a sound as she took her position on her knees between his spread thighs. Lord Davenport's dark brows furrowed slightly and he closed his eyes as she freed his member from his clothe. Swiftly, without preamble, she took his entire shaft down her throat. With a sigh of contentment he settle back as the carriage slowly started to move again, swaying him lightly as the silky, wet mouth of the woman at his feet massaged his cock.
It was marvelous! Just what he needed! In that moment, all the buzzing and rattling inside his head subsided and he was able to find peace with the intoxicating sensation of her lips sealed tightly around him as she forced herself down closer and closer to his pelvis. The friction was moistening her mouth, until his cock pushed a few bubbles of drool from the corners of her mouth. The girl was quite talented. It didn't take too long before he exploded in a white hot searing burst of ecstasy into the girl's mouth. Then there was just a quiet peace... however brief. By the time the nameless girl, clutching in her calloused hand the few coins he had dropped there, scurried out of his carriage, the deep throbbing in his head returned.
The carriage left the muddy streets behind and came into the brighter, cleaner, broader lanes. Lord Davenport quickly jumped out of his carriage and sent it home. A cool, brisk walk would clear his foul mood and sooth his throbbing head.
Moments later he came upon the grand stone and wrought iron gates of a magnificent town home. He was nearly at the gate when through the scrolled fencing he recognized a distinct little female figure, in a fashionable riding dress and veiled hat, descended from a hired carriage, in the front of the house. She glided gracefully but hurriedly up the front steps.
He didn't have to see her complete profile to know that it was indeed her. For a moment he forgot to breath as the thundering in his temple intensified. It wasn't until she disappeared into the house that he let out a ragged breath.
There wasn't a glimmer of doubt, from either her profile or carriage that it was Lady Evelyn!
Something in her movements raised the alarm bells in Lord Davenport's head. Who was it that she was visiting. He stepped away from the gate to squinted up at the magnificent home and recognized it immediately as a residence he had dined at not so long ago. His host and current occupant of the residence was the king's youngest son, Prince Edward! His highness had been away at university for some time. It appeared that he returned just in time perhaps to be ensnared into Lady Evelyn's growing web.
"My, Lady Evelyn, how quickly you move up the ladder," Lord Davenport sneered up at the great palatial residence. There was only one reason why a young woman, unmarried, unchaperoned, would so hurriedly enter a man's apartments. So the aristocracy was no longer satisfactory to Lady Evelyn, she has now set her sights on royalty!
When Lord Davenport returned home later that day he felt surprisingly better and much lighter than he had in weeks.
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Exactly a week past when he received an invitation from Lady Warwick inviting him and Philip to tea. No doubt, Lady Warwick's gauche sisters, all in need of husbands, will be in attendance. There would have been really no way to refuse her without insulting the old Earl, but Lord Davenport would still have declined if Philip hadn't agreed to go. It's been three weeks since he had seen hide nor hair of Philip. Quite a feat since they dwell under the same roof.
And that's how they all came to be in the Warwick's solarium on an unseasonably hot, sunny summer day.
Lady Warwick, dressed in a lace trimmed silk new gown and bedecked with jewels made a show of welcoming her guests and introducing them to her sisters Ruth and Mary. Both young ladies bobbed courtesies as they giggled incessantly. They continued to giggle as the guests were lead out into the solarium where tea things were laid out.
