Conquering the Countess

Chapter One

“Who is she?” marveled Phineas Barclay, adjusting the silken mask he wore to better view the woman wielding the nine-tail. He wished Penelope, the proprietress of Madame Botreaux’s Cavern of Pleasures, would add more lighting to the dim underground assembly hall where men and women gathered to indulge their prurient appetites. While he understood the darkness helped to conceal the identity of the patrons, it hindered one’s ability to fully admire the form of one’s partner—or partners.
“Lady Athena,” Lance Duport supplied. A longtime patron and friend of Penelope Botreaux, Lance had ceased to wear a mask many years ago. He eyed Phineas through a quizzing glass. “My dear fellow, that is a bang-up cravat. Do you think your valet could teach mine?”
Phineas smiled. “You have changed little in the years, Duport.”
“As have you.”
Phineas leaned over the rail of the balcony to observe the patrons who had gathered on the main floor below to witness “Lady Athena” and the two men chained to whipping posts on either side of her. Though she did not possess the sloping shoulders or slender arms admired by most, she was nonetheless a captivating figure, and for reasons beyond her strange costuming. Black leather boots, of the kind worn by men in the military but for the curvaceous Louis heels, encased her legs well past her knees. Her thin chemise fell over swelling hips, and Phineas believed that if a candle were held to it, the material would prove sheer enough to reveal her full and supple thighs. Her corset, an unusual black damask with gold floral embroidery, was loosely laced in the front, revealing the paleness of her breasts, two swollen mounds with nipples peering over the edge of the chemise. Phineas felt his cock tug at him as he drank in the scintillating curves of her body.
“How droll it is to have you back from your exile, Lord Barclay,” said Penelope, whose rounded figure gave evidence of her affinity for one too many glasses of port.
“Sir Barclay,” Phineas corrected, feeling his jaw tighten as he recalled the five years he had spent on the continent. Devil take it, he had never thought he would miss Yorkshire pudding, but he had.
“I have not had much in the way of an Adonis to feast my eyes upon – not since Vale. Alas, he has not graced our company for nigh on two years.” She sighed. “He used to stand right where you are.”
“The Marquess of Dunnesford?” Phineas asked, turning around to face Penelope. “What induced him to take his leave?”
“He fell in love,” Lance answered with a sigh to match Penelope’s.
“Dunnesford? In love?” Phineas asked, incredulous.
Penelope and Lance both nodded. “With his wife.”
“The deuce.” Phineas shook his head, wondering what other surprises lay in store with his return to England. He turned his attention back to Lady Athena, who alternated between her two submissives with the flow of a choreographed dance. Unfurling her lash, she struck the man behind her between the shoulders, then brought it down upon the buttocks of the man before her. Her strikes were strong and delivered with surprising litheness.
“How long has Lady Athena been a patron of yours?” he asked Penelope.
Penelope aimed her quizzing glass at the woman in question, then brought it back towards Phineas, her preferred subject.
“A twelvemonth, perhaps,” she replied. “I do not recall your having been so intrigued by a Mistress before.”
“All manner of women intrigue me,” Phineas said with a rakish grin.
“You are incorrigible,” Lance said with a shake of his head. “Was it not your entanglement with a woman that forced you from England?”
Phineas remained quiet. He had no desire to revisit the past. Nor did he know or trust Duport well enough to divulge that his affair with a married woman played only a minor role.
“What does it matter?” Penelope said. “From what I heard, the duel was more than fair. That Jonathan Weston was killed…”
Phineas turned around to see Penelope clearly wishing she could have swallowed her words. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you know this Lady Athena?”
She shook her head quickly. “I do not reveal the identity of my patrons, and Lady Athena has never indicated a desire to reveal herself. She does not tarry with any one man for long. I believe tonight she will seek yet another new submissive at the Presenting.”
Lance added, “She is one that even you, my friend, will find difficult to conquer.”
Phineas raised his brows. “My reputation as a lover must have diminished greatly in my absence.”
“Your skills in that vein are of no use with her. She allows no one to bring her to climax.”
“Odds fish.” Phineas had never heard of such a thing. What was the purpose of coming to Madame Botreaux’s if one could not attain that sublime euphoria? This Lady Athena was the most peculiar mistress. He looked over the balcony to see Lady Athena circling one of her submissives. Was it the boots that lent her stalking such an erotic quality?
“I can see your thoughts, Sir Barclay,” Penelope said with a small grin. “I will lay you a wager that what you contemplate cannot be done.”
Phineas unloosened his cravat with slow deliberation.
“Alas, a work of art gone in a moment,” Lance murmured, but his dismay was easily replaced with a new interest as Phineas began to unbutton his shirt.
“Your stakes, madam?” Phineas asked Penelope.
Both Penelope and Lance nearly drooled as the linen slid down his arms to reveal a chiseled chest.
“My—my word,” Lance stammered. “Have you taken up pugilism?”
“I spent most of my time on the Continent in Italy, perfecting the art of the sword.”
“You,” Penelope pronounced. “I wish you to be mine for a full night.”
“And if I can seduce the Lady Athena, what is my prize?”
“I must have a piece of this wager,” Lance interjected.
Penelope smiled, envisioning her win already. “Name your price.”
“Her name,” Phineas answered. “I want to know who she really is.”
Penelope glanced down in consideration, but after a brief hesitation, she lifted her chin. “I have witnessed Lady Athena for a year now. As delectable as you are, Barclay, she will not change her ways.”
“You wound my pride, madam,” Phineas said, covering his heart in mock pain.

“You will have such time until she casts you aside and selects a new submissive.” Penelope sidled up to him and tapped his chest with her quizzing glass. “At which time, you shall be mine, dear Barclay.”
He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “I adore a wager that knows no loss for me.”
Penelope trembled at his touch and had to take step away from him to breathe.
“And myself,” Lance reminded. “I should like to have you for a night as well.”

Phineas bowed. Lance, among the finer-looking men with his raven black hair and trim figure, would not prove to be the first man he had taken to bed, but he had foresworn men after the disastrous duel that forced his departure from England. However, if he successfully seduced the Lady Athena, Lance would not be a concern, and no woman had yet proven impervious to his charms. His conquests reflected all manner of women from a shy rector’s daughter to a frosty matron who disapproved at first of his attentions upon her daughter, then became increasingly envious of her own progeny. Lady Athena possessed the one quality he needed: she was a woman.

Invigorated by the impending challenge, he descended the balcony and prepared himself for the Presenting.