Lord of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle Page A

placed his hands on his knees. “That would be Alexander William Baxendale, the third Earl of Hawksford. Do you need me to spell it for you?”
    “No.” She gracefully scribed his full birth name and title across the top of her paper. Her eyes eventually met his again. “Let us begin. What is your age, Lord Hawksford?”
    “One and thirty.”
    She eyed him for a moment, then wrote the number beside his name. “And are you a virgin?”
    His lips quivered in an effort to remain serious. Surely their previous encounter should have adequately answered that. “No. I confess that I am not.”
    “No. Of course not.” She tilted her head to one side and placed a small x beneath his name. “Were you at the age of consent during your first sexual encounter?”
    He shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know what the age of consent is these days. It’s been a while since my first sexual encounter.”
    She sighed. “Twelve. The age would be twelve.”
    “Twelve?” He pulled in his chin in disbelief and snapped up straight in his chair. “Hell, my youngest sister is twelve.” And Mary was in no damned state to be consenting to lecherous men. The very thought of a man having sex with his sweet though oddly morbid sister was enough to make him want to heave up his breakfast. “That seems far too bloody young. Are you certain of that?”
    Her brows slightly rose. “I agree that it is far too young, but the law has been the same for quite some time, and as you know, Parliament will be Parliament. And lords, who continue to run the blasted thing, will be lords.”
    Alexander blew out a pained breath. It appeared he had one more thing to add to his list of endless responsibilities. Perhaps he needed to padlock each and every one of his sisters’ doors and consider more reliable means of reinforcement. Like wrought-iron chastity belts.
    “I am rather pleased you find the age to be abhorrent, for it truly is, but we are not here to solve the troubles of the world.” The tip of her quill still hovered over the parchment. “So. Were you at the age of consent during your first sexual encounter or not?”
    “Yes, yes.” He waved a hand toward her paper, still feeling somewhat agitated about the whole matter. “I was one and twenty.”
    “One and twenty?” She paused. “Truly?”
    Alexander caught the small smile on her full lips as she lowered her gaze and placed another x beneath his name.
    As if he would admit to anyone, especially to her, that once upon a time he was a man who believed in love and happily ever afters. A man who had foolishly waited for one and twenty years for the right woman to come along, the one to whom he could hand both his heart and his virginity. Imagine his disappointment in that .
    In the end, he learned that existing solely for pleasure was the only true way to live. For there were never any disappointments and one could easily ensure their own happily ever after one pleasure at a time. That is until reality had smacked him firmly in the head when his father died and left him with five sisters. “And how old were you, My Lady?” he demanded, genuinely interested in her reply.
    Lady Charlotte glared up at him as if she meant to impale the tip of her quill deep into the confines of his beating heart. “This is your application process. Not mine.” She dipped the quill into the inkwell once again and sighed. “Next question. Have you ever fantasized about dominating a woman?”
    He slowly grinned at the thought of dominating her. “If it’s reciprocal domination in the name of pleasure, then I would have to say yes. And yes again.”
    She placed another small x beneath his name. “Have you ever engaged in sex with more than one woman at a time?”
    It appeared that his days of old were about to resurface. And how. He cleared his throat, wondering if she would applaud or condemn him for his next words. “Uh…yes. I have.”
    She glanced up, clearly surprised, and leveled a serious gaze at him.