At the ripe of age of 28, Lady Athena McAllister was
getting pretty close to her "sell-by" day and shouldn't
really be choosy about who could take her off the shelf of
the aristocratic spinsters of the ton. Yet, she clung to
her penchant for blonde handsome men and a yearning to be
in love with the rich man she would need to marry.
When she found out that a certain Earl by the name of
Calvin Bretherton was looking for a wife, she couldn't wait
to catch his eye. Unfortunately, the competition was stiff
and protocol got in the way. So when her grandfather
proposed that the Duchess of Twillingham use her
connections and tutor Athena on more ladylike deportment,
Athena dropped her resistance when she found out who was to
be captured. Anything to be Calvin's wife!
But discovering his betrayal, she could not go forward with
the engagement. In the midst of her torment and tears, she
thought about a way to make wives more intriguing to their
husbands and decided to ask her grandfather for funds to
set us a special finishing school for spinsters to make them
more "marketable" as brides.
Using the much-hated Countess Cavendish's "Feminine
Excellence, or Every Young Woman's Guide to Ladylike
Comportment" as a cover, Lady Athena and her married
friend, Hester, the Baroness Willett, soon were very
successful in gaining clients for their special finishing
school in the old "Pleasure Emporium" with its hidden sexy
curriculum.
Forced by his good friend and Admiral to attend to his
family's duties, the Marquess of Warridge, Marshall
Hawkesworth, only wants to expedite them as quickly as
possible and get back to his career in the navy. So, when
his sister Justine tried to explain why the marriage he had
set up for her would not be the best for her based on what
she had
learned at Lady Athena's school, he had to go and see what
could be done. After all, if Justine doesn't marry, then
the admiral won't let Marshall get back to his ship and out
to sea.
Taking advantage of Athena's misconception about his visit,
Marshall becomes a lecturer at the school to find out more.
What will happen if the real nature of the school gets
known? Can a major scandal be contained? Meanwhile, why
is Calvin still so interested in marrying Athena when her
prospects are so poor?
In this final book of the "Pleasure Emporium" series,
talented Michelle Marcos has crafted an intriguing way for
her heroine to be a bold rogue and still virginally bashful
as bedazzles her handsome hero. Of special enjoyment is
the use of Marshall's enlightenment about the situation for
women as an effective vehicle in moving the plot forward.
With lots of tongue in cheek humor, WICKEDLY EVER AFTER is a
fun and
lively read! Enjoy!
After discovering her fiancé in the arms of a parlor
maid, Lady Athena McAllister comes to a frightful
realization: Most men prefer the company of their mistresses
to their wives. How can she, and other brides-to-be, become
both wife and mistress to a man? In her quest for knowledge,
she begs her wealthy grandfather for money to start a
finishing school for marriageable young ladies. There she
and her friends discreetly invite London’s most notorious
rakes to educate them on the art of seducing a
man.
Marshall Hawkesworth’s sister has become far too
knowledgeable about the ways of sex, and he suspects that
her new finishing school is to blame. Marshall poses as a
lecturer on several topics, including sensual kissing, and
he soon finds Lady Athena to be a most apt pupil. But before
he has her school shut down for good, he’s determined to
give her a few private lessons she won’t soon forget…
Excerpt
Marshall Hawkesworth jerked on the reins, forcing his horse
to an awkward stop. He curled his gloved hand around the
pommel and flung himself off the stallion.
His scowl blackened as he looked up at the redbrick
structure. The door was painted a cheery blue, and
geraniums lined the windows beneath lace curtains. But he
had just been made aware of the house’s sordid past, and
irritation threatened to choke him all over again. This
was no place for his sister to be seen in, let alone taught
in.
He took the stairs two at a time, and rapped on the door
with his riding crop. A diminutive maid opened the door
and curtseyed. “May I help you, sir?”
“I’m here to see the headmistress.” He gave her his crop,
hat and gloves.
Marshall followed behind the maid, but he was more inclined
to jump over the girl’s head and charge ahead of her. But
as he didn’t know where the headmistress was, he thought it
best to school his temper. Until, of course, he met the
woman responsible for giving his sister a scandalous
education that had rendered her unmarriageable to a most
advantageous prospect.
They came to a door at the far end of a grand salon, and
the maid knocked on it. “One moment, sir. I’ll announce
you.”
“There’ll be no need,” he said, and opened the door himself.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows at the far end of
the room, casting squares of light onto the green carpet.
The walls were papered in a light green silk frothing with
tiny pink and blue blooms. A cherry wood table sat in the
middle of the room, its legs curving down to the floor.
Sitting behind the desk was a redheaded young woman who
looked up from her ledgers to frown at him.
“You’re late,” she said, placing her quill into its
stand. “I was expecting applicants at noon.”
“I’m here to see the headmistress.”
“Then it is a happy coincidence that you’ve found her. I
am Lady Athena.”
Marshall blinked in surprise. “You? You’re in charge of
this school?” He expected a bookish lady, wizened in face
and feature, her curves disfigured by the ravages of time.
Not someone like—
“Yes, I am. Now kindly close your mouth and take a seat.”
He flinched at her impudence. “Young woman, I am here on a
matter of great importance, with nothing less at stake than
family honor.”
Her posture stiffened. “In the first place, you may call
me ‘Lady Athena’ or ‘Miss McAllister.’ I’ll thank you to
remember to whom you are speaking. And in the second
place, I know precisely why you are here.”
An angry retort died on his lips. “You do?” he said
slowly, wondering how she could possibly ascertain his
intentions.
“Of course,” she replied, rising from her chair. The
fabric of her blue dress cascaded to the floor. “You are
not the first man to step over our threshold who has found
himself experiencing some degree of financial
embarrassment. You might even say that gentlemen who have
fallen on hard times provide our stock in trade.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do they?”
“There’s no shame in earning an honest wage. A good hard
day’s work would do many gentlemen a world of good.
Including you, I daresay.”
The affront was almost more than he could stand. It was
bad enough that the saucy woman had mistaken him for
someone other than the Marquis of Warrington. But to
upbraid his character without the benefit of even a formal
introduction was beyond tolerable.
“Nevertheless,” she continued, crossing her arms at her
chest, “we more than anyone appreciate the importance of
tact. After all, modeling has been a much maligned
profession.”
He almost laughed. Tact was something this girl knew
nothing of. As he debated how best to put her in her
place, something she said buzzed in his head like an angry
hornet. Modeling?
“You will find that at this school, educational candor is
valued above all else. These young ladies are taught a
broad range of subjects, without capitulating to what is
deemed acceptable for members of our sex. To the outside
world, however, our curriculum may raise a few eyebrows.
Your involvement in our program will be treated with
discretion for as long as we have yours.”
Marshall had not ascended to the rank of captain in the
Royal Navy without learning how to deal with an adversary.
And something told him that it would be far more effectual
to get the information he sought by concealing his intent
rather than disclosing it.
“Indeed. That had been a concern of mine.”
“What is your name?”
“Marshall.”
The woman returned to the desk and pulled out a fresh piece
of paper from a box of stationery. “Well, Mr. Marshall,
have you ever done any modeling before?”
“I can’t say that I have, no. But I have been told that
I’m not too hard on the eyes.”
“Hmm. I suppose if the room were dark enough.”
He chuckled in spite of himself. This girl seemed to make
a habit of insulting people.
She scribbled something down. “Your hair is flaxen, your
eyes are blue…how tall are you?”
“Six feet, three inches.”
“A large fellow.”
“I come from good Oxfordshire stock.”
She glanced up from the sheet. “I’ve no wish to discuss
your relatives. No matter what manner of farmyard species
they came from.”
Marshall smothered a laugh. This girl was a complete
surprise to him. Proper ladies of his acquaintance rarely
disagreed with him, let alone offended him. She had a
nerve—no, bloody cheek—to treat him this way. He looked
around the room. There were paintings hanging on the wall,
each with curious images—an idyllic countryside with a
darkened wood to one side, a woman cradling a locked box,
two people at a ball wearing masks. All of them seemed to
be painted by the same hand.
“Will you be the one I shall be posing for?”
“Not exclusively. I lead a class on art, and I will need a
model for our next lesson. Seeing as you’re the only
applicant who has presented himself, I expect you may have
to do.”
He pursed his lips. “Please don’t flatter me. It goes to
my head.”
She smirked, and it lent her face a wicked charm. Her skin
was lovely…fair and luminous, offset by her striking red
hair. Her eyes were like cut emeralds, sparkling with a
lively intelligence. Her mouth was like a rosebud, pink
and kissable, and he experienced a rogue desire to make
that mouth moan instead of smirk. This meeting had
completely veered off his intended course, but he was
intrigued by the prospect of the fresh adventure. This
woman warranted exploration.
“The job pays a shilling an hour. If I engage you, I’ll
want you to pose for no more than two hours at a time.”
It was a generous wage. Clearly, this woman had no idea
that anyone off the street would pose for a twentieth that
price.
“When shall I start?”
“I said if I engage you. You haven’t been given the
position yet.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He was beginning to understand
how her mind worked. There was another volley of mortar
fire coming, and he had to let her launch her attack. She
wasn’t about to give an inch without taking a foot.
“What must I do to be hired?”
“I’ll need a proper look at you. Stand up.”
He pursed his lips at her commanding manner. She could do
with a lesson in civility.
“Over there, in the light.” She strolled up to him and
took a closer look. She walked around him, examining him
from all angles. The top of her chignon came to just below
his shoulder.
“Well, Admiral?” he quipped. “Do I pass muster?”
“I haven’t even begun my inspection yet. Take off your
clothes.”
The sardonic grin was torn from his face. “I beg your
pardon?”
She looked him squarely in the face. “Take off your
clothes so that I can get a better look at you. You can’t
expect me to hire you on the basis of a smile.”
“You want me to model nude?”
“Why should you appear so surprised? My advertisement
called for a male model to pose a la française. Did you
think that meant I would serve you up with croutons?”
Marshall shook his head in amazement. “Lady Athena, aren’t
you afraid of what this compromising situation will do to
your reputation? Or that of the school?”
She walked over to the window and untethered the curtain
next to the window. The fabric swished over the window,
muting the light in the room. “There is no one else
watching.”
His rational judgment began to dissolve in the rising tide
of his fascination. What an audacious woman this was. And
yet, as he began to tug at the knot of his cravat, her eyes
drifted to the floor.
His studied her intently as he pulled off his coat. A
muscle in her throat tensed, and color suffused her face.
He pulled the linen shirt over his head and dropped it on
the chair with the rest of his clothes. Naked to the
waist, he waited for her to look up at him, but her gaze
was riveted to the floor. His hands went to unbutton his
trousers when a soft voice stopped him.
“That’ll do for now,” she said. Finally, she looked up at
him.
Marshall watched as her eyes traveled nervously across his
broad chest. She was too uneasy to assess him properly,
and he wondered briefly if this exercise was just a
childish display of power. But she was visibly shaken by
what she saw, and despite her bravado, he wondered if she
had ever before beheld a man in a state of undress.
He watched in growing amusement as she timidly inspected
him from different angles. Her rushed, unsteady breathing
betrayed her nervousness. Though her crossed arms
attempted to communicate a distant reserve, her whole body
was as tight as a manrope knot. It was as clear as
daylight. She wasn’t necessarily an innocent--she was
attracted to him.
“You may have the job,” she said finally from behind him.
“Thank you.”
“On one condition.”
He turned around to face her. “Yes?”
“You must tell me how you acquired those scars.”
“Perhaps.”
She blinked up at him.
“If you ask me nicely.”
The haughty expression returned, and her full lips
thinned. “You may get dressed now. I shall open the
drapes.”
As she walked past him, he reached out and grabbed her
forearm. Her body jerked back and collided with
his. “Just a moment,” he said, snaking his arm around her
waist. She looked up at him in equal parts panic and
fascination. She tried to push away, but everywhere her
hands touched his bare flesh. In the hollow of her throat,
her heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird.
He lowered his head to within inches of hers. “I have a
condition or two of my own.”
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