The Charming Jezebel

by Farmer, Merry

  “You won’t?” Imogen asked, looking disappointed.

  That simple show of friendship warmed Ophelia’s heart. “No,” she answered. “In fact, we have already decided that we will be leaving this party and beginning our journey to Sandhustan today, right away.” She glanced up at Saif and whispered, “I hope you do not mind.”

  “Mind?” he laughed, raising her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I cannot put this place behind me soon enough.” He turned to Caro and Rufus. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” Rufus laughed. “Hell, I’ll have one of my best carriages brought around for you right now.” He nodded to the butler, who immediately marched off.

  “And I will help you pack whatever you need for your journey,” Caro said, coming forward to take Ophelia’s hand. “Time may be of the essence in more ways than one,” she murmured. “I truly do not think this match is legal in England.”

  Ophelia checked with Saif, who nodded, then started off with Caro.

  “But wait,” Aunt Millicent called after her, one arm extended pleadingly. “Do you…would you not need a devoted relative and chaperone in this exotic principality you wish to travel to?”

  Ophelia could see the avarice in her aunt’s eyes. She could see the calculation and the way her aunt likely thought she could make a fortune nagging her for the rest of her life. So she gave the only answer she could. “No.”

  She didn’t wait for more. She and Caro rushed up the stairs to Ophelia’s bedroom to stuff whatever they could in a simple traveling valise.

  “I will watch after the Marlowe sisters for you,” Caro said as they worked. “They will have happy endings, I swear.”

  “Thank you,” Ophelia sighed in relief, hugging her friend.

  Less than an hour later, she and Saif climbed into a finely appointed carriage and were speeding away from Hadnall Heath.

  “That was an interesting party,” Ophelia said, sagging with relief, once they passed the outer limits of the estate.

  “They will be talking of it for years to come,” Saif agreed.

  She turned to him. “They will be talking of us for years to come as well, I am certain.”

  “They will,” Saif agreed, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. “They will be talking about the charming little jezebel who ran off with an Indian prince, and who did shocking things with him in the carriage on the way to London.”

  “Shocking things?” Ophelia asked, her cheeks going hot.

  “Oh, yes. All manner of shocking things are possible in a moving carriage,” he said, flickering one eyebrow. “For instance….”

  He reached for her, dragging her across his lap and folding her into an embrace before slanting his mouth over hers. She grasped his lapels and sighed, kissing him back with all the emotion of her relief.

  It felt odd to be aroused so quickly after the whirlwind of events that morning. Pain over leaving the Marlowe sisters to their fates continued to gnaw at her. But it was warmed and pushed to the far reaches of her mind as Saif’s hands stroked her sides, then moved lower, seeking out the hem of her skirt. He found it, burrowing a hand under the fabric to find her leg, then sweeping up over her calf and knee to her thigh, bringing her skirt with him.

  She gasped and giggled. “You aren’t actually thinking of undressing me in the carriage, are you?”

  “Who said I needed to undress you?” he asked in return.

  With another quick movement, he lifted her and adjusted her so that she straddled his legs. He inched his knees farther apart, which spread her thighs even wider. As he did, he bunched her skirts, hiking them up until they were no more than a bundle of fabric around her waist. His hands played freely over her legs and backside. She sucked in a breath and shivered as he drew his fingers down through the cleft in her buttocks, brushing her in places that surprised her with pleasure.

  His fingers continued until they stroked her slit from a startling new angle. That only satisfied him for a moment, though. He circled his hands over her legs to continue his ministrations by stroking her clitoris.

  “Oh,” she gasped, a shiver passing through her. “That is wicked.”

  “It could be even more wicked if you unfastened my breeches,” he hinted, a growl in his voice.

  A flash of daring flared through her. Her hands shook as he continued to draw pleasure from her molten core with his fingers, but she burrowed through the bunched fabric of her dress to find the fastenings of his breeches all the same. She knew exactly what he had in mind as she worked the buttons free and rubbed her hands over the bulge of his erection. They’d made love in a similar position the night before, but the prospect of doing it in the carriage, cramped and rattling as it was, made her feel downright exotic.

  He let out a delicious moan when she finally pushed the falls of his breeches aside and freed his cock, stroking it until he was hard and stood firm and tall. She had no idea what she was doing, but when she gently raked her fingernails up his staff, he jerked and groaned with pleasure.

  “Did I do it right?” she asked in an uncertain voice.

  “Darling, you couldn’t possibly do it wrong.”

  His hands still worked on her while she played with him. It was wildly naughty and she could hardly believe they were pleasuring each other that way. But it wasn’t enough.

  “Please,” she mewled as the intensity of pleasure within her drove her right to the edge of orgasm. “I’m going to…I’m so close…oh!”

  She let out a long cry of delight as he guided himself to her opening and thrust into her. At the same time, he gripped her waist and moved her hips in the perfect way to bring them both the most pleasure possible. She was putty in his hands, letting him use her as he wished, and within seconds her body burst into a surprisingly powerful orgasm. She tilted her head back, crying out with the joy of it all as his thick cock worked magic inside of her.

  He didn’t hold out much longer. With a final, strong thrust and a guttural cry, he tensed, spilling within her and clutching her hips hard. It was heaven itself, no matter how wicked it made both of them.

  As the intensity of the pleasure slowly subsided, Saif stayed lodged within her, his arms around her, holding her close as the two of them caught their breaths. She sagged into him, fitting her hips as tight against him as she could and resting her head against his.

  “I love you,” she sighed, still breathless. “I never thought it was possible to love someone so much.”

  “So you do not mind the necessity of fleeing England to start over in a strange, new land?” he asked, smoothing her hair back from her face.

  “Not at all,” she said with a smile. “As long as I am with you, I am home.”

  Epilogue

  The rain that had plagued England all summer closed back in on Hadnall Heath as soon as Ophelia and Mr. Khan departed. Imogen was sad to see them go, but glad the two of them had found each other. She prayed that her own story with Thaddeus would end as happily, but they still had a long way to go.

  “I am certain India isn’t cold and rainy like this,” Lettuce said, clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she walked with Imogen and Alice through one of the quieter hallways of the house.

  “I’m certain it’s sunny and hot,” Imogen replied with a kind smile for her older sister.

  Lettuce had returned only that morning, pale, wan, and faded. Mr. Pigge had indeed taken her to Gretna Green to be married. When Alice asked why she had gone through with it, why she hadn’t fought back or refused to say the words binding her to the odious Pigge for the rest of her life, all Lettuce would say was that, by the time they stood in front of the blacksmith, it was too late.

  Imogen shuddered at what those words implied. She would have to face the same treatment from Lord Cunningham within a month if Thaddeus didn’t come up with something soon. At least Lord Cunningham had promised his daughter that he would wait until after Lady Malvis’s wedding to Lord Ainsley, after the expedition that would t
ake the Ainsleys, Mr. Pigge, and Lettuce across the sea had departed.

  “Here it is,” Alice gasped with a rare show of excitement when they peeked into yet another bedroom. “The rose-carved cabinet.”

  The three of them rushed into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. Imogen took the key from around her neck, where she wore it the same way Ophelia had worn it for most of the party. Unlike Ophelia, Imogen knew exactly what the key belonged to. She had wanted to wait until she could be together with her sisters before unlocking the cabinet, though. She had a horrible feeling that discovering this treasure would be the last thing she and her sisters did together.

  They hurried across the room and Imogen fit the key in the lock. The tumblers clicked as she turned the key, and the cabinet came open.

  “I bet it will be jewels,” Alice said. “Or French wine, like what was in the treasure chest that Lady Eliza found.”

  The cabinet contained neither jewels nor wine, however. All it contained was a single, red-bound book. Imogen frowned, fighting disappointment, and took the book from the cabinet.

  Her disappointment turned to curiosity as the title of the book, embossed in gold on the red cover, stood out. “The Secrets of Love?” she read.

  “What could that be about?” Alice asked, looking over her shoulder.

  Lettuce stood on Imogen’s other side as she opened the book. She flipped through the pages quickly, trying to get an idea what sort of book it was. The answer stared boldly back at them. Chapters with titles like Dominance and Power, The Joy of Submission, and Pleasure Without Shame stared back at them, along with more than a few edifying illustrations.

  “Oh, my,” Alice gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

  “If only it were true,” Lettuce sighed.

  Imogen didn’t want to ask why she thought it wasn’t true. “We should read this book,” she said. “We need to read it.”

  “How can we?” Alice asked. “By the end of the day, Mr. Pigge will take Lettuce away, father will take us back to London, and once we’re there, well, do you not have plans to run away with Lord Thaddeus?” she whispered, as if even the walls could hear them.

  Imogen agreed with a nod. “We must do something drastic,” she said, taking the book to the small dressing table under the window.

  As carefully as she could, she opened the book and divided the pages into thirds. Using the small pair of scissors she had in a pocket sewn into her dress—she’d never been so happy to have forgotten to empty her pocket of all the sewing articles it contained—she split the book’s spine, neatly carving it into three pieces.

  “There,” she said, taking two of the pieces and handing them to Lettuce and Alice. “At least this way, we’ll each have a section of the book to read.”

  “This is murder,” Lettuce said, her eyes wide. “How cruel to dissect a book in this way.”

  “But you see,” Imogen went on, holding her section of the book to her chest, “we all believe butchering books is a sin. So we must promise to come back together at some point to repair the books and…and our lives.”

  Lettuce stared at her portion of the book with watery eyes. “I am off to America and the Caribbean within weeks, though.”

  “And who knows what will happen to me at Count Camoni’s hands,” Alice sniffed.

  “We must have faith that we will be reunited,” Imogen said. “Consider this book a promise that we will.”

  Her sisters both nodded, and the three of them came together in a desperate hug. Imogen never wanted to let them go.

  “Come what may,” Lettuce said, “we will be together again.”

  * * *

  I hope you have enjoyed Ophelia and Saif’s story! And they lived happily ever after in the kingdom of Sandhustan—which is a made-up kingdom, by the way, but you might just see it again in future books! It is true that men from India traveled to England and attended English schools in order to take up service roles in India upon their return, though this mostly happened later in the nineteenth century, during the British Raj. It was not unheard of for men from all of Britain’s colonies to travel to England for various reasons. It actually wasn’t unheard of for lascars (Indian sailors working for the British) to end up stranded in England and to marry English women, although it would have been forbidden for a British noblewoman to marry a man from the colonies in the early days, no matter his rank or title. The history of England as far back as the sixteenth century is far more diverse than most people give it credit for. But that’s a story for a different day.

  And what about the Marlowe sisters? Oh my gosh, how tragic are their stories? Will Imogen be able to run away with Lord Thaddeus Herrington? Is Alice’s life really over because of her forced marriage to Count Fabian Camoni? And how about poor, poor Lettuce? Is she doomed to be the wife of the horrible Mr. Pigge forever…or will a chance encounter with pirates on the way to the Caribbean and a certain Captain Martin Neville change all that?

  Find out about Imogen in Book 10 of When the Wallflowers were Wicked, The Faithful Siren, coming in November. Alice’s story, The Holiday Hussy, will be part of a super-cool, multi-author, Christmas box set, Once Upon a Christmas Wedding, coming in October. And Lettuce’s story, The Captive Vixen, will be part of another super-cool, multi-author, pirate-themed box set, Once Upon a Pirate, coming early in the new year.

  If you enjoyed this book and would like to hear more from me, please sign up for my newsletter! When you sign up, you’ll get a free, full-length novella, A Passionate Deception. Victorian identity theft has never been so exciting in this story of hope, tricks, and starting over. Part of my West Meets East series, A Passionate Deception can be read as a stand-alone. Pick up your free copy today by signing up to receive my newsletter (which I only send out when I have a new release)!

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  About the Author

  I hope you have enjoyed The Charming Jezebel. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when new books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cbaVMH And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it! For a complete list of works by Merry Farmer with links, please visit http://wp.me/P5ttjb-14F.

  Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, her hyperactive new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have reached the Top 100 at Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes & Noble, and have been named finalists in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my awesome beta-readers, Caroline Lee and Jolene Stewart, for their suggestions and advice. And double thanks to Julie Tague, for being a truly excellent editor and assistant! Thanks also to the members of the Historical Harlots Facebook Group, who provide me with all sorts of inspiration!

  Click here for a complete list of other works by Merry Farmer.