Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(3)

Louisa dropped her gaze again. How could Madame say these words? Louisa knew her mother certainly had not. “I know pe—the first one.”

She had a vague memory of her brother whispering that word to her when he’d been about eight and had learned it from a friend. He’d been soundly thrashed for saying it once too often.

“The vagina is the part of a woman’s body that a man puts his penis into. Perhaps you have heard it called a ‘cunny.’ ”

Oh dear. That term she had heard, but only from the rudest of laborers—when they did not know she could hear. All she could do was nod again.

“When a man’s seed leaves his penis he feels great pleasure. This is his climax. It is called ‘coming.’ ”

Louisa’s mouth made an Oh, but no sound left her lips.

“Your husband, John, was no longer capable of this, and therefore could not ever father children. I think it is important that you know that. He would never have deprived you of being a mother if it had been within his power.”

Another silent Oh. Her hand drifted down to rest upon her belly, to the child that had never been.

Her mind filled with questions, but she was incapable of uttering a single one.

Madame seemed to understand without the words. “You wish to know why he came here if he could not … did not release his seed.”

Another nod.

“He was still capable of feeling some pleasure, felt a man’s need for these feelings. My girls helped him with this.”

“But why …?” Words burst from Louisa’s lips, but then became lost. “I would have …,” she tried again, but without success.

“I know. I understood when you came to me before, but you must understand that this is not what your husband wished. Some men feel that wives are pure and should not be troubled with a man’s needs other than for the procreation of children.”

“But …”

“You are correct. Your husband was not such a man, but his feelings were not far from it. He was ashamed. Ashamed of both his body and what he needed done. He wished to keep you as the best, most perfect thing in his life. He felt his needs would sully you. He would never have wished that.”

“But I …” Louisa raised her eyes to stare straight at Madame. What did any of that matter? She had loved John enough to manage anything. “I did not care, do not care. I would have done whatever was needed to help him. Surely he knew that.”

“He did know.”

“Then what did he need done that I could not … that I could not do?”

Madame blinked. “I do not think that matters. He wished to keep it private during his life, and I don’t think he would wish me to betray him now. Do you?”

Louisa wished she could lie. “No. I do not.”

“But you are curious. So I will tell you it involved mouths and hands, and some degree of pain.”

“Pain?” How could John have wanted more pain? He’d often suffered it—fine lines of exertion had creased his noble face many mornings when he first tried to walk.

She wasn’t sure she could ever have hurt him. Perhaps that was why he had come here, because he’d known she would be incapable of causing him any physical pain?

“There are men who like pain—both to receive it and to cause it,” Madame replied. “John did not quite fit this category. Instead I think some of his nerves were damaged so greatly that it took intense feeling for him to react at all. Pain was the easiest way.”

Men who liked pain? Who could possibly like pain? Louisa wasn’t sure which was worse, the thought of receiving it or causing it. She didn’t even like to squash a bug. “He was that injured?”

“Yes.” Madame rose from her seat. “Now, perhaps if I have answered your questions as best I can and you have finished your tea”—Madame stared at Louisa’s empty cup—“then perhaps it is time for you to leave. Evening is approaching, and I do not think you wish to meet any of my guests.”

“But I didn’t come here just to ask questions.” Louisa jumped to her feet.

“You didn’t?” For the first time, surprise showed on Madame’s face.

“No. I came to ask you for help with a problem.”

“What kind of problem can you have? I understood John left you quite well off, despite the title’s going to his cousin.” Madame’s gaze took in every detail of Louisa’s gown and cloak, as if she was pricing each item in her mind.

This was the moment. “I wish to remarry,” Louisa said.

“And how do you need my help with this? I may be a matchmaker, but never for marriage, although I’ve often thought I’d have a knack for it.”

Louisa closed her eyes—and then opened them again. “I am a virgin widow—a laughable thing.”

The corners of Madame’s mouth twitched. “I must admit I had never believed they existed.”

Her cheeks growing ever hotter, Louisa continued. “As I have said, I wish to marry again. However, I cannot bear for anybody to think less of John. I do not yet have a specific man in mind. I want this taken care of before I meet someone and have any thoughts of feeling unfaithful.”

Madame’s face grew serious. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to help me lose my virginity.”