The Cheeky Minx

by Farmer, Merry

  “No,” Jo admitted, taking the hand he offered to help her to her feet. “But as we are already engaged, I doubt they can do more than glower at us. And my mother’s opinion of me couldn’t sink lower than it already is.”

  He studied her with a frown that Jo felt to the core of her soul. The puzzlement in his glance slowly turned to sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

  Jo was certain he meant it. What became less certain as he showed her to his washstand and offered her his hairbrush to straighten her hair while he changed items of his clothing, was whether a man of such passion, but also such kindness, ironic as it felt for her to think it, could possibly be a diamond thief.

  Chapter 4

  Felix lay in bed the morning after his encounter with Miss Josephine Hodges, staring up at the ceiling, at a complete loss. On the one hand, he couldn’t believe his mother had arranged a marriage for him without his knowledge. Yes, she’d mentioned something a time or two at the breakfast table in the last few weeks, but he hadn’t dreamed she was serious. To suddenly spring a betrothal on him when all he thought he was doing was making a token appearance at one of her mornings at home was unconscionable.

  But Miss Josephine Hodges was a force of nature that he wouldn’t have expected in a million years. He hadn’t thought much of her at first. She was short and dressed drably. True, her auburn hair had a certain luster to it and her green eyes had sparkled more than most mousey young ladies who did their mother’s every bidding. Even after her questioning had convinced him she knew all about his reputation and wanted to take a bite out of his apple, his impression of her hadn’t improved, merely shifted.

  It wasn’t until he saw the defiance in her eyes as he initiated the sort of play women demanded from him that the tables had begun to turn, and when she had taken hold of his cock and turned him into a helpless fountain of cum with only a few strokes….

  His cock hardened anew at the memory. Of course, it shouldn’t have, considering how ultimately embarrassing it was for him to lose control so fast in her hands. But the women he was used to being with simply didn’t react that way. They bowed to him. They pouted and simpered. They presented their backsides, all of themselves, really, for punishment. They cried fake tears of contrition and sometimes real tears of pain at a catharsis that had nothing at all to do with him. They submitted. He didn’t understand them, but that didn’t stop him from giving them what they wanted and getting off in return.

  Miss Josephine Hodges hadn’t cried. She hadn’t submitted. She came hard when he pleasured her, and then she pounced on him. That little, drab, slip of a thing had his cock out and spent before he could get his bearings. And it had been delicious.

  He reached under the covers, grasping his swollen shaft and working it until he was as hard as granite. Miss Josephine Hodges. Lady Josephine Lichfield. His groin tightened at the thought. She was feisty, bold, unlike the women he’d come to be associated with. Her pink bottom was perfect and soft and round. He stroked himself harder, his breath coming in pants. Had she really snuck up to his bedchamber for an illicit rendezvous? She hadn’t seemed to know what the equipment she found was for. That possibility sent him closer to the edge, and he growled as sharp tension pooled behind his balls. Was it possible that she had genuinely become lost while looking for a chamber pot? If so, she had borne his pseudo-abuse bravely and still been so wet that she’d come quickly for him. Perhaps she just wanted it, not with whips and restraints, but with passion. She’d played the aggressor, milking him like—

  He came with a shuddering gasp and a burst of pleasure that reverberated through his bones. Warm stickiness spread across his belly, but it was worth it. He closed his eyes as his body relaxed, and thought of Miss Josephine Hodges with a smile. She would be his wife. He should argue with his mother out of principle and refuse the match, but the thought of having Josephine in his bed was too sweet to give up.

  He said as much to his friend, Rufus Herrington, a few short hours later as the two of them rode through Fitzrovia toward Regent’s Park.

  “It was extraordinary,” he told his friend, careful not to include details that would breach the borders of privacy, for Josephine’s sake. “Unlike any situation I’ve ever found myself in.”

  Rufus chuckled. “It sounds as though you’ve found yourself in an exceptionally agreeable situation,” he said. “Every man dreams of marrying a biddable bride.”

  “Do they?” Felix asked, one brow raised. “I’m reasonably certain my father dreamed of marrying a wealthy bride and nothing else.”

  Rufus shrugged. “It’s eighteen fifteen. Times are freer, and men can expect more than a distinguished pedigree and a sizable dowry from their bride. Although the dowry would help,” he added with a sigh.

  Felix sympathized with his friend. “Still no luck on the financial front?” he asked.

  Rufus shook his head. “The crops failed again this year. My steward says the land is depleted and needs to be left fallow for a few years. But if I fail to plant for as long as he suggests, my tenants will go hungry and my coffers will dry up completely. I need to marry well.”

  “Any luck there?” Felix asked.

  “If you consider title-hunting spinsters from newly wealthy families luck,” Rufus said. “Mama wants me to pick one, no matter how unsuited we are, and get on with things.”

  “But,” Felix prompted him.

  Rufus sent him a sheepish sideways look. “But I haven’t given up the dream of marrying a woman I actually want in my bed. And at my breakfast table and on my arm at the theater.”

  Felix hummed, considering himself luckier than he ever could have imagined. It was no wonder Rufus took advantage of every bacchanal in London and kept company with an array of courtesans. He was attempting to have his fun before the clock struck midnight and duty took over.

  “Well, at the very least, I can help by purchasing your townhome,” Felix said as they pulled to a stop in front of a handsome, brick townhome.

  “The gesture is much appreciated,” Rufus said as he dismounted. He waved for a boy to come over and take their horses around to the mews, handing him a coin as he did, before they headed into the house. “But are you certain you still need the place, considering your soon-to-be state a staid, married man?”

  Felix laughed as they stepped into the townhome’s small front hallway. “Of course, I still need it.”

  Rufus moved into the tiny front parlor, then turned to face Felix with a doubting look. “Are you certain your bride-to-be would consent to you owning a discreet address intended for illicit rendezvous?”

  Felix thumped his shoulder. “I fear that if my mother remains in London, Miss Hodges and I will need this place for our own rendezvous. Besides,” he sighed. “I need to move my equipment out of the Mayfair house. If Miss Hodges can find it by accident, there’s no telling who else might.”

  “Your mother?” Rufus suggested.

  Felix shrugged. “Can you imagine explaining those sorts of things to your mother?”

  Rufus arched one brow. “Doesn’t she already know? Didn’t Lady Malvis tell her when she broke your engagement?”

  Felix made a face. “Blessedly, Malvis was not specific when she detailed the reasons she could not marry me.” He paused. “But that didn’t stop my mother from believing me to be a deviant.” He paused again, running a hand through his hair. “There is no need to confirm that assessment.”

  Rufus scoffed. “You’re no more of a deviant than I am, than any man is. None of us are unimpeachably perfect, and there’s no harm in that.”

  Felix thumped Rufus’s shoulder once more. Few things were more valuable than a friend who saw one’s faults and forgave them. He let out a breath and glanced around the parlor.

  “All right. I’ll take it. When do you want to have the papers for the sale drawn up and signed?”

  “As soon as possible.” Rufus ran a hand through his hair. “I feel as though I’ve already spent the profits of the sale.”

&
nbsp; “And I feel as though I’ve already inhabited the place,” Felix replied with a lopsided grin.

  Rufus laughed. “Because you have.” He arched a brow. “Am I right in thinking Lady Ulster is meeting you here again tomorrow?”

  Felix’s grin vanished. “She’s supposed to,” he admitted. “She sent me a note the day before yesterday informing me that she has been extraordinarily naughty and needs to be thoroughly punished for her transgressions.”

  “But?” Rufus prompted.

  “But my heart isn’t in it anymore,” Felix confessed. “I’m going to cancel the engagement and close shop.”

  “Am I to assume that a certain fiancée has something to do with this change of heart?”

  Felix winced, rubbing a hand over his face. If he was honest with himself, his heart hadn’t been in the game for months. His reputation was as stellar as ever and he hadn’t let his performance flag one bit, but he no longer got the same thrill as he once did from fulfilling the secret fantasies of the ladies of the ton. Josephine was merely the last straw.

  He opened his mouth to explain as much, but a knock on the door startled him into silence. He and Rufus both turned as the door opened and a sly-looking Indian gentleman let himself in.

  “There you are,” the Indian gentleman said. “Father said I might find you out this way.”

  “Saif,” Rufus greeted the man, striding back into the hall to take his hand after he shut the door. “You’re back in London.”

  “And ready for adventure,” Saif said.

  “Welcome back,” Felix said, shaking Saif’s hand as he and Rufus returned to the parlor.

  Saif Khan was the eldest son of Mr. Wakas Khan, the man who managed the house owned by the East India Company. Saif had come to England years ago to study in the hopes of securing a position in the administration of the East India Company. But after passing his exams, he decided he’d rather stay in the modern environs of London, making only periodic jaunts home to Bombay. Felix wasn’t sure he approved of his young friend. It seemed to him that the young man’s expensive education could be put to better use in his homeland. Saif rarely seemed interested in being of any use to anyone at all.

  “So,” he said, clasping his arms around both Felix’s and Rufus’s shoulders, as though they were still young bucks at university. “It’s a damn shame about my father’s diamond, isn’t it?”

  Felix’s brow shot up and he exchanged a glance with Rufus. “I was given to understand that the Chandramukhi Diamond belonged to Emperor Akbar.”

  Saif made a scoffing sound. “He intended it as a gift to King George, but it was my father’s responsibility until such a time as the gift could be given.” He shrugged. “If the gift could be given at all. In my opinion, it should have been payment for my father’s services to the empire.”

  Felix exchanged another look with Rufus before saying, “Do you know anything about its current whereabouts?”

  Saif laughed, stepping away from them and going to inspect a clock on the parlor’s mantelpiece. “Of course not,” he said without looking at them. “But I wish I did.” He let out a longing breath. “Father is offering a substantial reward. Even if he wasn’t, the kind of blunt that diamond would bring could end all of my troubles.”

  The hair lifted on the back of Felix’s neck at the comment. “You realize that both Rufus and I are considered suspects in the diamond’s disappearance,” he said.

  “Truly?” Saif turned to them with a look of bemusement. “The two of you?” He laughed. “You are my dear friends, but neither of you has what it takes to accomplish the theft of such a precious article.”

  “We don’t?” Rufus asked, crossing his arms.

  “No,” Saif said. He took a few steps back toward them. “To make a gem such as the Chandramukhi your own requires planning and precision. It requires unscrupulous accomplices with secrets that can be used against them should they squeal. And for a diamond of renown, it requires connection with one with the ability to recut it into many smaller, though equally valuable, diamonds.”

  A shiver went down Felix’s back and his nerves prickles. “You seem to know a great deal about the matter.”

  Saif shrugged. “What can I say. I was blessed with an imagination. But enough of unpleasant things.” He clapped his hands together and closed the distance between them. “I have come to invite you to an evening of dancing and drink, of scintillating conversation and sinful company.”

  “Your father is hosting another party?” Rufus asked, his arms still crossed.

  “Of course,” Saif said. “But this one will be special. This one will be talked about for months to come.”

  “What is different about this one?” Felix asked.

  Saif held his arms wide. “I will be there,” he said, then added with an impish grin, “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”

  Felix broke into a grin. “You do make your father’s revels interesting,” he admitted. Indeed, Saif always came up with some sort of game or activity for the party-goers to participate in that left everyone exceptionally drunk, ridiculously aroused, and rolling with laughter.

  “It will be a night to remember,” Saif went on. “The food will be sumptuous and the wine of the best quality. There will be gifts and surprises for all.”

  “Gifts?” Rufus asked. “Has your father suddenly turned generous?”

  “No, but his son has recently come into money. The treat is all mine,” Saif said.

  Felix frowned. Saif wouldn’t be so foolish as to steal a diamond and to use the profits from its sale—in whole or recut into several new diamonds—to host a party. He hadn’t been there the night the diamond was stolen. Then again, hadn’t he just said that a true diamond thief would need accomplices? Perhaps someone else in the house had physically stolen the diamond on Saif’s orders. After all, if simply being present the night the diamond went missing was enough to make both Felix and Rufus suspects, not being there might have ruled out Saif when he was, in fact, guilty.

  Saif threw his arms around Felix’s and Rufus’s shoulders once more. “Come on, my friends. These revels won’t be worth their price if you do not come. Bring women, if you want. All are welcome.”

  A rush of desire filled Felix at the thought of bringing Josephine to the party. Would she be shocked by the kind of debauchery Khan’s parties usually involved or would she embrace it? The tightening in his groin told him she’d embrace it. He might be tempted to embrace her as well in a particularly carnal way. He’d already tipped his cards where sensual activity was concerned, so why not throw caution to the wind and anticipate his wedding vows? His mother would be overjoyed if he petitioned her to speed the marriage along.

  “When is this grand fete?” he asked.

  “Friday night,” Saif answered with a broad grin. “You are coming?”

  Felix put on the most salacious smile he could with his skin crawling the way it was. He hadn’t suspected Saif of stealing the Chandramukhi Diamond until that point, but now he couldn’t shake the idea. But at the same time, the thought of enjoying Josephine at one of Khan’s routs was irresistible.

  “I’m coming,” he said at last. He would sort out the rest later.

  Chapter 5

  “I tell you, it was like nothing I’ve seen before,” Jo whispered to Caro the afternoon after her momentous tea with Lord Lichfield. “An entire cupboard filled with riding crops and flails and other baffling items.”

  “Hmm, I see,” Caro replied, that sage look in her eyes that hinted to Jo that her friend knew far more than she commonly revealed. She flicked her paintbrush across the saucer she was painting, creating a clumsy flower, and added, “He does have a particular reputation, after all.”

  Jo finished off the daisy she’d been painting on her saucer, then swished her brush in the glass of water at her place in the workroom to clean it. “Believe me, I am now well acquainted with his reputation,” she said, squirming uncomfortably in a seat that felt a hundred times harder than it ha
d two days before. “My backside is more than aware.”

  Caro only barely managed to hide a snigger as Miss Dobson glanced across the room to them. She carried a switch that she tapped against her free hand as she spaced up and down the rows of toiling pupils, inspecting their work. Miss Dobson’s eyes met Caro’s and narrowed. She continued her menacing pacing, working her way up the row to Jo and Caro and making it impossible for the two of them to finish their conversation.

  It had been the same since the moment Jo returned to the school after luncheon the day before. Jo had been bursting to tell Caro everything that had transpired between her and Lord Lichfield. She could hardly believe it had all happened to begin with. It all seemed like a dream. Indeed, it had seemed like a dream from the moment Lord Lichfield cleaned himself up after the explosion she had caused and calmly escorted her back down to his front parlor. His mother and hers had seemed only mildly irritated when Lord Lichfield explained that Jo had gotten lost on the way back from her unmentionable errand and had found herself in the library. His story was accepted without question, even when Jo winced as she resumed her seat on the couch. Lord Lichfield had noted her discomfort with a concealed grin and a glint in his eyes that promised Jo there would be far more where the first had come from once they were wed.

  “Unacceptable,” Miss Dobson hissed as she glanced over Jo and Caro’s shoulders at their work. “Those saucers need to match the cups before you.”

  “Yes, miss,” Jo and Caro answered in unison.

  “Pay attention and do your work accurately,” Miss Dobson went on, tapping each of their backs with her switch. Although “tap” was too gentle a word for what she did.

  Jo swallowed and narrowed her eyes at the teacup she had been assigned to paint a corresponding saucer for. She didn’t know how Miss Dobson expected them to duplicate someone else’s work, but she insisted on marketing matched sets.