Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  He grinned and bowed. “’Tis a talent, ma’am.”

  “I have a suggestion,” said one of her brawny guards, a former soldier in the British Army who now ensured the safety and security of both patrons and staff. “In winter it gets dark so early; would you consider having afternoon sessions? Far too cold at night to venture out for some of our older members and others don’t like traveling after dusk.”

  “I’ve heard that also,” added their in-house tailor, who cleaned and repaired all the costumes. “My silver-haired battalion would like a nice day romp as an Amazon and Spartan, but go home for supper in their own dining room.”

  Delilah tilted her head in thought. “I’d have to hire more staff, but that could be feasible. We’ll charge a little extra for the service—afternoon delight, I’ll call it—but just a trial to start. Two afternoons a week, Monday and Thursday. Remind me to hang up a notice in the entrance hall.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the parlor maid whose turn it was to make notes.

  “Now. Anything else? No? Then I’ll add that you’ve all been working very hard and doing an excellent job, so there will be an extra crown in each wage this week.”

  A rousing cheer near lifted the roof, before her staff of twenty went their separate ways. She’d learned early on that nothing inspired loyalty and dedication like higher than average wages, comfortable quarters, good food, and regular scheduled days off. The aristocrats of London could certainly learn something from her in staff management, considering how many experienced maids and footmen from noble households approached her seeking employment. If she recalled correctly, even one or two of Tunbury’s maids had tried…

  Delilah halted and shook her head. Irritating enough she’d been caught thinking about the duke earlier, but he’d wandered into her thoughts again, damn him. She’d never been so preoccupied with a man before. And it was entirely foolish; he had no reason to return, nor did they have any kind of future. With her own great fortune, she didn’t need a protector or even a husband, just a companion. Love. Passion. Tunbury wanted the very opposite for a wife: a prim and proper blue-blood. Something she would never be.

  It was probably best she had to venture out in the carriage to see to her charities. Senior Temple staff were always telling her to rest and let maids or footmen deliver the necessary supplies and bank drafts, but much as she adored the Temple, she also enjoyed leaving it behind for a few hours. Especially as she both resided and worked here.

  Rest equaled time to think, and that would be most unwelcome right now.

  “Johnston,” she called to her driver, as she departed the gaming room and crossed the entrance hall, “Have my carriage brought around in a half hour. We’re going to take the donations of winter clothing, toys, and boots to the boarding house, and food to the soup kitchens.”

  “Aye, ma’am. Bundle up warm now, there’s a chill wind outside. And plenty of mud, so leave your best boots behind for an old pair you don’t mind throwing away.”

  “Will do,” Delilah replied, hurrying up the stairs to her bedchamber.

  A quick sponge bath, fresh gown, and chignon, and she would be ready to face the world. She tried to visit all her charitable causes as often as possible, to ensure they had everything they needed. The expense might break Mr. Kelly’s heart, but it gladdened hers to help others onto their feet again. As she well knew, misfortune could strike anyone, at any time, through no fault of their own, and a place to stay, hot meal, or new clothing could make such a difference. Besides, if she was busy helping others, she wouldn’t be thinking about a certain duke.

  Tunbury needed to be pushed out of her mind for good.

  Yes, he had no idea what he was doing, but that didn’t have to be a barrier to success.

  Bennett stared pensively at his Christmastide shopping list while he waited for his town carriage to be brought around. He only needed a quantity of sweets, linen for handkerchiefs, and lengths of calico and buckskin, for he had sufficient coins in his safe for the financial gift to each staff member, and the orangery at his country estate would provide fruit. He was fairly sure Clark and Debenhams on Wigmore Street sold cloth, and there were certainly no shortage of confectioners in the area. What he really needed were several sweepers to send ahead and clear Mayfair of any members of the Carlton House set before he arrived. Then all would be well.

  “Afternoon, Your Grace,” called his driver from atop his perch, as he pulled up with a flourish outside the front door. “To the shops, yes?”

  “Golden Square first,” he replied absently. “Delilah’s Temple.”

  The other man looked startled, although not nearly as startled as Bennett felt at the words that had just spilled from his mouth. He had no purpose whatsoever to go there…apart from returning to the scene of his embarrassment like England’s worst criminal. Why would he want to do that?

  To apologize for running out on her. A gentleman would do so.

  His conscience snickered at the flimsy excuse to see Delilah again, but he climbed into his carriage for the mile-long journey. Even wearing a thick greatcoat over his clothing, he was grateful for the heavy curtains and hot bricks near his feet, for the weather outside had grown even colder and bleaker in true December style. In far too short a time for his peace of mind, they came to a halt in front of the Temple. The fluttering in his stomach was quite ridiculous; he and Delilah weren’t courting for God’s sake!

  Shaking his head, Bennett climbed out of the carriage. The cold hit him like a slap to the face, and he shivered as he stomped the mud from his boots before ascending the steps and knocking on the front door. Moments later a footman opened it, smiling politely.

  “Yes, sir? Oh, Your Grace. Are you looking for Mrs. Forbes?”

  “I am.”

  “The mistress is not here at the moment, she left a while ago to take gifts to her charities. The widows’ house and the soup kitchens.”

  Disappointment struck hard. “Ah. Well—”

  “But she’ll be back soon to unload the carriage so there is room for new purchases before going on to Cheapside. Why don’t you come in and wait by the fire? I’ll have the kitchens send out some mulled wine to your driver and footmen.”

  “Thank you.”

  The roaring fire soon warmed his cold hands and face, but Bennett felt like a damned fool pacing back and forth in front of it. On several occasions he almost marched back out of the entrance hall as his brain reminded him of his previous cringe worthy actions, but he forced himself to stay. Eventually a briskly familiar voice behind him said, “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  He turned. Delilah wore a simple, unadorned gown of hunter-green velvet, and looked even more beautiful than when she’d worn blue silk. Frustratingly though, he couldn’t read her expression to know if she welcomed his presence or wished him gone. “Good afternoon.”

  “Is there something I can assist you with?”

  Bennett attempted a rueful smile. “Would you believe I happened to be in the area?”

  “No,” she said bluntly, but not unkindly.

  I wish to apologize for ruining your gown. For coming on your face.

  “I wish to apologize,” he began. “For, ah…the other night.”

  Delilah stepped forward, her hand covering his. “It is me who should apologize, Your Grace, for my clumsy words after you did exactly what I hoped you would. Have a good, powerful orgasm.”

  “But I…” Cheeks heating, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Your gown. Your face.”

  “Good heavens. Think nothing of it. Now, if the seed had gone in my eye I would be a little annoyed, for it stings.”

  Shocked laughter rumbled in his chest, but he couldn’t contain it, especially when Delilah winked and grinned. Here she was working her otherworldly magic again, succeeding in amusing him with a jest about unruly spurts. “I am certainly glad it did not do so.”

  “Then we shall agree to forgive each other and be friends. So, friend, what are your plans for the rest of the d
ay?”

  Bennett rubbed his jaw. “Something else new to me. I pledged to personally provide Christmastide baskets for my staff, so need to purchase items for them. Sweets and cloth and so forth.”

  She nodded. “Where are you going for that?”

  “I thought Clark and Debenhams, some Mayfair confectioners…”

  “Don’t be daft,” Delilah said impatiently. “All the warehouses are in Cheapside; you’ll pay half the cost for the same quality. And I know of a confectioner so good it will make you wish you could eat nothing but sweets morning, noon, and night for the rest of your life.”

  “Oh! If you could write down some addresses, I would be most grateful.”

  “Much better if I escort you. The moment those shopkeepers see your fancy clothes and fancy carriage, they’ll fleece you like a Cheltenham sheep. I mean…ah…if you like.”

  Bennett raised an eyebrow. “First you storm the castle, then you decide to knock?”

  She poked out her tongue. “Let me find you an appropriate costume.”

  “I am not going to Cheapside dressed as a Spartan, madam.”

  “Quite right, too chilly for bare chests. I thought more a clerk to fit in. We have several such costumes; you’d be surprised how often grand ladies fantasize about bedding a spectacle-wearing clerk, brawny stable hand, or handsome footman.”

  “I’m not sure anything can surprise me anymore.”

  Delilah laughed, and they walked to the costume room. In no time at all, he wore an ensemble of dark brown trousers and jacket, plain waistcoat, linen shirt, woolen scarf, soft cloth cap, and a pair of spectacles that he had to peer over to see through.

  “See?” she said, beaming. “This afternoon, you are not a duke but a senior clerk. And your name is…”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “Benn…er, I mean Ben. Ben the clerk. That’s me.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ben. Let us away on our adventure.”

  Bennett could scarcely believe his own startling behavior: dressing in costume to go shopping with a pleasure club madam in Cheapside. And yet it was exciting, too. Like a lad forgoing class to meet a pretty girl or drink in a tavern, he would have an afternoon’s respite from being himself.

  As Delilah promised to deliver him and his purchases home, he sent his own carriage on its way and instead climbed into hers. To protect her privacy it lacked any adornment or crest on the outside, but just like the Temple, it was well-appointed inside with cream leather squabs, dark brown velvet curtains, polished wood, and hot bricks at their feet. Even better, the three-mile distance from Golden Square to Cheapside gave him ample time to admire the way Delilah’s woolen pelisse and gown lovingly outlined her breasts and hips. He could easily imagine her reclining against the squab, her gown rucked up to her waist and her hand between her legs. Perhaps sitting astride him, rubbing her wet center against his cock.

  Give over, Ben the clerk.

  You want to set Delilah on her hands and knees and take her from behind, rough and hard and deep, the way you accidentally saw that village lad take his lass in the tack room of the stables when you were at Cambridge. Him so dominant, biting her neck and pinching her nipples as he thrust, and her moaning and whimpering, begging for more…

  Bennett stifled a groan and shifted uncomfortably on the leather squab. Of course those rakish thoughts had returned with a vengeance when he couldn’t turn away or disguise his body’s reaction.

  Three whole miles.

  This would officially be the longest carriage ride ever.

  Chapter 4

  The way Tunbury—or should that be Ben the clerk—regarded her the entire journey had almost been a story in itself. Sometimes he’d talked and even smiled a little before lapsing into silent brooding, and other times his gaze flared with such heat it near scorched her clothing right off. So much so that watching him, learning a little more about how he saw the world—and how the world saw him—nearly distracted from the bittersweet emotions that always assailed her whenever she visited Cheapside.

  Not quite though.

  Prior to opening Delilah’s Temple, it had been her home. Where she’d been born and raised, from a humble but happy childhood with her mother and father; to desperate poverty in a shabby rooming house at age fifteen; to prosperous comfort in a spacious apartment above Archie’s shop at twenty-one, to a widow and orphan at twenty-two.

  Indeed, some of the happiest times of her life yet also some of the very worst.

  But whatever else happened, she would always love this wide, long street, forever bustling with carriages, horses, and people. To one end, the majestic St. Paul’s Cathedral with its towering dome. At the other end, the Royal Exchange and Bank of England. And in the middle, nestled around ancient St-Mary-Le-Bow church, everything else imaginable: food and drink, taverns, haberdashers, mercers, linen and wool drapers, shoe and bootmakers, watches, clocks, stationery, chairs and cabinets, even china and glass. Cheapside wasn’t just the city’s hub of trade and commerce, but also a place to find men of business, physicians, and lawyers as well.

  As her carriage slowed to allow for the crowds and other carriages even in frigid weather like this, Delilah leaned forward and peered out the window, her heart clenching as they passed what had once been Archie’s shop. His eldest son—a man who hadn’t been at all pleased when his father wed a woman only a few years older than him—had sold it a few months after Archie’s death and moved to the Kentish countryside. But she’d made her peace with the Forbes family in their shared grief; and partly thanks to her widow’s portion, she had been able to open the Temple.

  Tunbury cleared his throat. “You looked rather sad when we passed that shop. Was he a mercer by chance? Your late husband, I mean.”

  She turned her head and nodded. “No one knew silks and velvets like Archie. I may well have been the best-dressed wife in Cheapside, but I owe him far more for what he taught me about business, especially negotiation and bargaining. He was much older, but very good to me. Kind and generous.”

  In many ways she missed that most about marriage, having a constant companion. A lover she could find anywhere, at any time, but a husband to discuss business and other matters with over breakfast, to hold her close when the world got too overwhelming, and to cheer triumphs because they truly understood the sacrifice to achieve them…that was something quite different. True companionship required intimacy, a bone-deep understanding of one another, and a union of souls both precious and rare.

  “I…miss my father a bit like that,” said Tunbury abruptly, looking perplexed, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said the words. “He was snatched by a terrible fever that raged across the county, and all the money in the world couldn’t save him. It happened so fast, here one day, gone the next. I was only fifteen, and like any son, I expected to be the heir for a good long while. Not the duke. I wasn’t ready. It was…distressing…”

  His voice trailed off, then he pressed his fist to his mouth and stared out the window.

  Torn between surprise at the halting yet heartfelt admission and deep sympathy at his loss, a loss she understood somewhat for she’d been the same age when her own father had died in the accident, Delilah stayed tactfully silent until he composed himself. “Tell me about him.”

  “Hmmm. Excellent chess player but a terrible dancer. Bane of my mother’s life, or should I say her poor toes, because he simply couldn’t move in time to music. He taught me to ride and fence, and told jests in Latin to test my learning. The staff loved him. I believe at least half have been with the Innsworth family for more than two decades, well, if I can halt them leaving.”

  “Why? Do you turn into an ogre at the stroke of midnight? Conceal bodies in the wine cellar?”

  Tunbury’s lips twitched, and he peered over his spectacles at her. “No bodies, although this humble clerk may have a few skeletons in the closet. In truth, there were some…issues between the household and my former trustees in regard to…approved expenditure.”

&
nbsp; A flash of fury jolted through Delilah, and she barely suppressed a scowl. So, not only had these wretched trustees made the young duke feel ashamed about his body and pleasure, they’d also caused trouble by withholding money? Especially after Tunbury’s father had been a generous employer? Whoever these men were, she would bundle them up and heave them into the Thames or perhaps send them over to Theresa for a good green nettle birching. Bloody bastards. It did say something of Tunbury’s character though, that he was attempting to atone for actions undertaken on his behalf. “Ah. Hence the baskets.”

  “Hence the baskets,” he said, nodding. “I do appreciate your kind assistance. It is…not easy admitting to others you know nothing of a topic. But I wanted to do this myself. To learn more about how the world turns outside the ducal gates.”

  “I personally believe,” whispered Delilah, leaning forward to take his hand and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in the way he seemed to like, “that those who value learning should be taught everything they wish to know.”

  Tunbury’s eyes grew heavy lidded. “Do you indeed, madam?”

  “Oh yes. So first, with your approval, I will demonstrate how to purchase household items and cloth. Then, I’ll escort you to the finest confectioner in London for sweets. But after that…there is a three-mile journey home.”

  “Three miles,” he murmured. “But there are a great many things I wish to learn, and I’m not sure if that will be sufficient time. I am a man who prefers to practice a new skill until he is quite, quite proficient at it.”

  Delilah shivered as her pussy began to throb in earnest. If the carriage hadn’t slowed to a complete stop on the busiest thoroughfare in London, she might have spread her thighs for him then and there. Yes, the duke was a virgin, but she had the strong impression he would be a most diligent student. A student who wouldn’t be satisfied until he mastered a skill, dominated her utterly, and made her scream with pleasure…

  Good grief. Calm yourself. There is no need to get carried away just because it has been months since you last had a lover in your bed.