Simply Carnal Read Online Free Page A

was slight. “And I consider myself French, but I was born here.” He glanced down at his pen and picked it up. “Are you certain there is no one in England I can contact for you?”
    “There is no one, sir. My father was disowned by his family. I have never met any of my English relatives, and I doubt they would want to meet me either.”
    “Are you so certain of that? They do say blood is thicker than water.”
    “I am quite certain. I would rather stay here and earn my own keep.”
    “In whatever manner I suggest to you?”
    “Yes, Mr. Delornay. I am willing to agree to anything.”
    A smile flicked up the corner of his mouth. “You should be careful what you promise, Mrs. Smith. You are in the most licentious pleasure house in London, where any sexual fantasy can become a reality.”
    “And I am more than willing to embrace every single one of them.” She smiled into his skeptical face.
    He rose to his feet and looked down at her. “Then perhaps you might enjoy a tour of the establishment. If you manage to survive that, we’ll discuss the terms of your employment.”

3
    “T his is the main salon where the guests tend to congregate when they first arrive.”
    Christian flung his arm wide to indicate the two large interconnecting gold and crimson decorated rooms that took up most of the first floor of the pleasure house.
    “Is the house open all day?”
    He glanced down at his companion, who seemed remarkably unperturbed by the display of naked flesh on view and the pile of heaving bodies on the velvet cushions in the center of the room.
    “From around two in the afternoon and for most of the night.” He glanced down at a well-endowed countess who was slowly sucking one of the footmen’s cocks. “As you can see, it isn’t very busy yet. Most of our guests arrive late at night after they have exhausted all the other avenues of pleasure available to them.”
    She nodded as if that made perfect sense and walked farther into the room, stepping neatly over an outstretched leg and avoiding a groping hand. She wore a plain blue, obviously borrowed, dress that was a little too large for her slender frame and had a tendency to slip from her shoulders. To Christian’s critical eyes, she looked as out of place as a nun in a brothel.
    “We also provide a buffet and beverages that are constantly refreshed night and day.”
    “That is very thoughtful. Who is in charge of the food?”
    He came up alongside her as she studied the large tables crammed with every dish imaginable. “Madame Durand cooks, and Ambrose and I deal with the process of serving and ordering the food.”
    She picked up a trailing bunch of grapes and rearranged them carefully on a gold plate. “I should imagine there is a lot of waste.”
    “Not that I know of. The staff are permitted to take anything home that is returned to the kitchen, and the rest goes to a pig farm.”
    For the first time, she looked impressed and Christian fought another smile. “My mother is French, Mrs. Smith. She is not about to let good victuals go to waste when others are in need—particularly the pigs.”
    She glanced up at him, and he thought she almost smiled back. Her expression quickly returned to one of neutral mild interest, and Christian began to wonder what it would take to fluster her. There were plenty of places within the pleasure house that would shock the most experienced of upper-class matrons, and Mrs. Smith was hardly that.
    “Despite your mother’s benevolence, I still think you should have less food out at once.”
    Christian’s smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon?”
    “There is too much.”
    “The pigs certainly don’t think so.”
    She didn’t back down but continued to stare at him. “Have you not been paying attention to current dining fashions?”
    Christian leaned back against the silk-covered wall and studied her. “I can’t say that I have.”
    “Recently, in France, there has been a yearning for simplicity in all things