Promising Virgin Read online

  Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords

  http://www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2012 Berengaria Brown

  ISBN: 978-1-927368-50-3

  Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

  Editor: Kimberly Bowman

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  In memory of EFM. I never knew you, but you were still loved and will always be remembered.

  A PROMISING VIRGIN

  Virgins No More, 3

  Berengaria Brown

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  Zethan, Earl of Mitcham, had to struggle to prevent his lips curling with disgust. It’d been bad enough when Lady Featherby had decorated her ballroom with swathes of pink calico hanging from the ceiling. But this! No words could describe the complete and utter lack of taste in Lord Boxworthy’s party arrangements.

  One corner of the ballroom had been turned into a farmyard. There was a “pond” with half a dozen ducklings swimming on it. Beside it was a pen with two lambs bleating. A foal was tethered to the side of the pen. A low “wall” of hay bales completed the display.

  Simeon and Amos Arnott came and stood beside Zethan.

  “I’ll lay you a guinea that pond starts to leak and floods the ballroom floor by midnight,” said Amos.

  “If it doesn’t, the foal will kick the fence down and the lambs will escape, making the ladies run screaming from the room,” said Simeon.

  Zethan grinned. “This is one ball where I’d actually enjoy seeing those two hell-born brats, Joel and Micah. The mischief they’re capable of is just what Boxworthy needs to prevent anyone else ever attempting such a decorating abomination.”

  Amos was staring at the doorway, his jaw sagging. He shut it with an audible snap.

  “What?” asked Zethan, turning and looking, only to have to force his own mouth shut. Three maids were walking into the room wearing milkmaid costumes. Behind them were two servants leading a cow and carrying a milking stool.

  While one man held the cow’s head, the other milked it, and the three maids carried glasses of fresh milk around the ballroom offering them to the guests.

  The Reverend Barnabas Ridley brought his wife, the former Miss Georgina Arnott, up to the group. “What maggot got into Boxworthy’s brain to have a farm in his ballroom?” asked Barnabas.

  “I hope that’s a rhetorical question, vicar, because I don’t believe a man with all his wits could answer truthfully when ladies are present,” said Zethan.

  “My little brothers and sister have done some unusual things at times, but even they would not have planned this to happen at a Ton ball,” said Georgina.

  “The man’s dicked in the nob. There’s no other explanation for it,” added Amos.

  Finally the menservants and maids removed the cow and themselves and the dancing began. Zethan, as always, had avoided signing Lady Mary Featherby’s dance card for the supper dance. Since the incredibly wealthy Mr. John Smith had married the vicar’s sister, Lady Mary’d attached herself to Zethan quite fiercely, and he wasn’t ready to be forced into making a declaration. He wasn’t even sure if he would offer for her. Sapphira Arnott was much more beautiful and had a sweet nature as well. Lady Mary was better born and didn’t have the enormous number of siblings that Miss Sapphira did, but the thought of seeing her over the breakfast cups each day lacked the appeal that imagining Sapphira in that position had.

  Of course, seeing Sapphira naked and writhing under him in bed was also an extremely attractive picture. Sapphira’s skin was unblemished, her eyes so blue, and her golden curls soft and pretty. Her ankle was neatly turned and her body arousing. Lady Mary was nice enough, and if her anger was any guide, she’d be very passionate in bed, but overall, Zethan was inclined to think Sapphira would make a juicier armful. But would she be a better countess?

  It was all such a difficult decision. And a wife really only needed to give him an heir. After that, they could both find their pleasure wherever they pleased. As long as she was discreet of course. He could always ease his aching dick at Chez Claudine. Madame Claudine had been giving him two ladies at a time lately, and no well-bred virgin could compete with the release he experienced at the hands of two of Claudine’s most experienced “ladies”.

  He was an earl and could choose a wife from the highest in the land, or the most beautiful. He could have whichever woman he wanted. No one would dare say him nay. His estates were extensive, his lineage could be traced back for centuries, and he was the only son. Everything his father had guarded so carefully had come to him. Now, at age nine-and-twenty, it was time he set up his nursery. Months ago he’d narrowed down his list of potential countesses to two. Lady Mary Featherby and Miss Sapphira Arnott. So why couldn’t he make a decision. Miss Sapphira’s sweet nature and peerless beauty? Or Lady Mary’s noble lineage and passion?

  ****

  Much later that night Zethan was at Chez Claudine with a buxom blonde and a passionate brunette. Both were naked in his bed. Unfortunately the blonde was not as pretty as Miss Sapphira, but the way she was sucking his dick more than made up for any deficiencies in her beauty.

  All Madame Claudine’s ladies were very talented. They all knew how to make a man’s cock rise to the occasion. But it seemed that lately he needed more in his bed than just a warm, willing body. Or even two warm, willing bodies. The fault was not with the women. Rather there appeared to be something missing from his life. Although that idea couldn’t possibly be true. He was rich. He was handsome. He was an earl of the realm! At every Ton gathering he was one of the highest ranked men. So it was impossible that anything was lacking in his life. No he just needed a wife. Title or beauty? Which should he choose to honor with his proposal?

  At that moment the blonde let his cock pop out of her mouth. “My lord, you’re ready. Which of us would you like to fuck tonight?” She pressed her red, pouty lips, lips that had just embraced his dick, to his chest and then looked up at him with limpid, pale blue eyes. Eyes so different from the deep blue of Miss Sapphira’s.

  The brunette slid her wet cunny along his leg. “Let me please you, your lordship. I do like the way you fuck. You’re so big inside me.”

  He lifted the brunette to sit across his hips. “Ride me then,” he ordered.

  She held his cock to her entry then slid down on him. Her walls were hot and wet and he slipped in easily. Then she started bouncing up and down on him. Her huge breasts, with their dark brown nipples, bobbed in front of his face, so he raised his hands to play with them. Her bosoms were very soft, a nice contrast to their hard tips. He pinched and twisted her nipples watching her smile as she worked away on his cock.

  The blonde crept up close to him and offered one of her breasts. “Why don’t you suck on me, my lord? That way we’ll both enjoy this even more.” Her breast was almost in his mouth already, so he licked over her nipple and sucked at it. Her skin tasted a little salty, but not unpleasant. He sucked harder and enjoyed the way she gasped in a breath.

  The brunette was still bouncing up and down on his cock, taking him in to the hilt and squeezing him with her internal muscles.

  It was all very enjoyable but nothing out of the ordinary. Why wasn’t he more aroused? Why wasn’t he close to his peak? The women were using all their skills on him
. It must be because they aren’t beautiful. This is the answer to my question. I shall call on Simeon Arnott tomorrow and ask his blessing on my marriage to Sapphira. Obviously, beauty is more necessary in bed than a title or passion.

  Zethan smiled as he thought of how disappointed all Miss Sapphira’s other admirers would be when they saw his family heirloom ring on her finger. He remembered how all heads turned when she entered a room, and from now on they’d be turning for him because he’d be the one who was escorting her. He wouldn’t just have wealth and a title. He’d have wealth, a title, and the most beautiful woman in Town. Every man would envy him.

  On that thought, his peak raced through him, making his spine tingle and his balls draw up tight against his body. With a grunt he released his seed to flood the cunny of the brunette. This time next month, I’ll be fucking the hot, tight cunt of a virgin. My wife!

  ****

  Sapphira and the Dowager Lady Arnott were still sitting in the breakfast room, sipping hot chocolate and trying to decide whether to go to Hatchard’s bookshop in Piccadilly or to Gunter’s Confectionary shop in Berkeley Square, when Simeon popped his head through the door and asked Sapphira to come to his book room for a moment.

  “Is there a problem with the children?” she asked apprehensively. Thirteen-year-old twins, Joel and Micah, seemed to have settled in well at Eton, but she still half expected to hear they’d been sent down for some piece of misbehavior or another every time a letter arrived.

  “No, no nothing like that,” he said ushering her in before him and closing the door.

  She looked up into his deep blue eyes, the same color as hers and as all her siblings. Eyes that had come to them from their grandmamma, the Dowager Lady Arnott, via her son, their late father. By contrast, their hair color varied from golden blonde like hers and her little sister Deborah’s, to the twins’ light brown, Georgina’s chestnut, Amos’s mid-brown and Simeon’s dark-brown. She gathered her scattered thoughts and waited for Simeon to tell her why he’d summoned her.

  “The Earl of Mitcham is here. He’s told me he wishes to marry you.”

  “He asked your permission to address me?”

  Simeon grinned. “Well no. It was more that he explained that he was going to marry you.”

  Sapphira was confused. “But he’s never said anything to me. Never even hinted—Not even kissed my fingers. Obviously I wouldn’t expect him to do anything wrong. Not like poor Mr. Wetherill—” She broke off remembering young Mr. Wetherill attempting to kiss her at his mama’s card party and Amos planting the man a facer and making his nose bleed. She grinned, then frowned. “Did he say he loved me?”

  “No, he said you would be dressed in the finest clothes, have an army of servants to attend to your every whim, and enjoy staying at his castle in Scotland at Christmas.”

  Sapphira searched Simeon’s face. He was her oldest brother, the head of their family since both their parents had died in a carriage accident three years before. She felt he was trying to tell her something without actually saying it. “Georgina and Barnabas are so happy together. They love each other and that’s what makes their lives so good. Mama and Papa loved each other too. I would like to marry a man who loves me at least a little bit.”

  Simeon answered her gently. “I’ve already rejected a round dozen suitors for you. You won’t get another offer from an earl. Mitcham is the most eligible bachelor in Town this Season.”

  Sapphira nodded. “Do you think—Could I ask him if he cares for me at all?”

  “He’s in the withdrawing room. You may have five minutes alone with him.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sapphira walked quickly to the withdrawing room, took a deep breath, and opened the door. The earl was standing at the window, his back to her. He was a very good-looking man—tall, with broad shoulders and muscled arms and legs. She knew he rode well and played all sorts of manly pursuits. And of course, he was rich and titled. Simeon was right. She wouldn’t get a better offer than this one from him. And she did like him. She enjoyed his company. He was always a considerate dance partner and his conversation was intelligent and witty. Her heart always beat faster when he held her in his arms for a waltz. She’d known herself very jealous of other women if he danced the waltz with them. Did that mean she loved him? She looked at his taut ass in his tight breeches. His body looked mighty fine, and being older than her, he’d know well how to please a woman. Her belly clenched at the thought of a man’s hands in all her secret places. She rather thought she’d enjoy the marriage bed. Especially with a well-built, good-looking man like Mitcham.

  “Have you finished looking at me, Sapphira? Shall we have the wedding one month from today? In the cathedral of course. No other church will be big enough for all the guests I’ll need to invite.”

  Sapphira took a step back in surprise. “You haven’t asked me yet.”

  Mitcham stared at her, then came closer and took her hands in his. “Dear Miss Arnott, please accept my offer to unite my house with yours in holy matrimony.”

  “Do you care for me at all?” she asked hesitantly.

  “You’re beautiful. Your wealth and lineage are adequate. You suit me well enough. I’ve never proposed to anyone before, if that’s what you mean. Now, I’ll send my man of affairs to the Bank of England to my lockbox to retrieve the diamond and ruby ring. You can go to Rundell and Bridge tomorrow so they can alter it to fit your finger properly. Then—”

  She pulled her hands out of his grasp. “But you don’t care for me as a person. I’d always hoped to marry a man who cared for me at least a little.”

  “Of course I care for you. I’m about to spend a monkey altering a family heirloom ring to fit your finger.”

  “That’s not what I mean. My mama and papa loved and respected each other. They had a happy marriage. Georgina and Barnabas have found happiness together. They too love each other. I want to marry a man I can love and who loves me in return.”

  “Love is for peasants, not for people of our class. You can love our son when he’s born. I will provide you with everything you can possibly need.”

  “No. No you can’t. Because what I need is to be loved. I’m sorry, my lord, but I cannot accept your very flattering offer.” Sapphira turned and ran out of the room.

  ****

  Half an hour later, the Dowager came into Sapphira’s room and sat on her bed, stroking her hair.

  Sapphira had finally stopped crying. The realization that she cared for the earl and he was so cold and arrogant, not at all as he’d been when they met at parties, had been a huge shock she was still trying to understand.

  Surprisingly the Dowager asked no questions, simply continuing to pet Sapphira’s hair as she began to talk. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Madame Giselle’s. Always at balls you have worn white or the palest of colors. It’s time you threw off your debutante aura. The sapphire set is sitting unused in my dressing case. We’ll order you a new gown to match the sapphires and your eyes, and also a riding habit in the same color. The duke’s grand ball is just over a week away. We must encourage Madame Giselle to have the new ball gown ready in time for it, and you will wear it with the sapphires. The Season is well advanced and you actually came out in the Little Season, so it’s time we dressed you in colors. I do believe people will be quite amazed at how grown up you look decked in strong colors and jewelry.”

  “But, Grandmama, he said no kind words, let alone words of love to me. And I love him so much.” Sapphira had to swallow back a sob. How had she not known she loved him? Was the fault hers, not his?

  “Men so often don’t say such things, little one. But we’ll cause him to understand what he’s so carelessly thrown away. And if he does care for you at all, he’ll be back again to mend his ways.”

  “And if he doesn’t come back? Doesn’t love me?”

  “You will hold your head high and dazzle every man in the ballroom,” the Dowager said firmly.

  ****

  Zethan stormed out of
the Arnott townhouse furious at the way he’d been treated. Him, the Catch of the Season, to be rejected by that chit. That jumped up little nobody. I’ll go straight to Lady Mary Featherby and marry her instead.

  But for some unknown reason his feet took him to his own home instead of the Featherby’s, and he sank into his favorite chair in his study, the brandy decanter and a crystal glass on a small table beside him. After a long swallow, he rested his head against the back of the chair, letting some of his anger flow out from him. He replayed his words first to Simeon, then to Sapphira. Shocked, he realized just how arrogant and rude he’d sounded. No one could deny he was a nobleman, but it appeared he was not a gentleman. Or at least, he hadn’t been one this morning.

  He’d treated her brother, a man he respected, callously. Simeon had left Oxford and pulled his family together after his parents had died, working on the farm alongside his tenants, introducing better farming methods, growing new crops. The old baronet had been clever with their investments, or had a good man of business, because there was ample money to provide for the large family. Sapphira was well born and had a good portion. Those factors, added to her beauty, made her a fit match for any man of the Ton. She would not lack suitors. In fact, she never had. As soon as she entered a ballroom men flocked to her side.

  He’d been jealous of that. He’d hated having to partner her for a mere country dance instead of a waltz or cotillion. That was why he seldom arrived too late at parties these days. He had to be there early enough to claim her for the dances he wanted.

  Zethan put his glass down with a thud. He’d been altering his established patterns of behavior to ensure he spent time with her and he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He’d been on the Town for a decade, yet this Season was the first in all those years where he’d regularly arrived at a ball before the dancing commenced.