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.