Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  “He did not intoxicate me! I drank the port of my own free will.”

  “Which he encouraged and supplied for you.”

  Alastair had paid more attention to her during the dinner than she would have thought. It was all very trying and slightly incomprehensible, which made her mind swim. With auspicious timing, the maid returned with a glass of lemonade, which Alastair took and presented to Mildred.

  “Drink it,” he commanded.

  Hoping that doing so would bring about an earlier conclusion to their dialogue, she did as he bid.

  “Who was it?” he asked after she had finished half the beverage.

  “Who was what?” she returned.

  He looked about, then drew her from the room, closing the doors behind them. “Who deflowered you?”

  “I said it was none of your affair. It serves you no purpose to know.”

  “If I were your father or your brother, I would call the rogue out.”

  “But you are neither.”

  “Thank God!” they said in unison.

  Alastair shook his head and she returned to drinking her lemonade. It did seem to clear the fogginess of her thoughts.

  “Nevertheless,” he said, “you are connected to the d’Aubigne family now.”

  “And since when do you trouble yourself with regard to anyone?”

  “Since… You think me that heartless?”

  She paused. She did not think him so wholly uncaring. If she had, she would never have bothered with speaking to him. But it was best not to think better of him at present. “I thought you prided yourself on your indifference to others?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why waste your breath on me?”

  “Because there is one person I do care for: my aunt. And she concerns herself greatly with you.”

  “Ah, you are doing her a favor.”

  “I am.”

  “But she wishes me here, wishes me to partake of what Château Follet offers. Are you not doing her a disservice by attempting to thwart her plans?”

  “Her wishes are misguided. She will see that soon enough.”

  “Or she will find you insufferably arrogant.”

  He grinned. “She has already accepted and made peace with my conceit.”

  Mildred sighed. The man had an answer for everything! She thought of Devon and the redhead. “Will you not tend to your scarlet beauty before she is charmed by the Viscount?”

  He paused before saying, “She will have to wait.”

  “And why is that? I think our tête-à-tête has lasted long enough, and I had said to Lord Devon—”

  “Devon and Miss Hollingsworth can keep each other company tonight.”

  Taken aback, she asked, “I thought you took an interest in the redhead?”

  “I did, but I informed Marguerite that for tonight, I am choosing to claim you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  MILLIE STARED AT HIM with her mouth agape. The port had slowed her wits but had yet to make her dumb.

  “What an abominable jest!” she huffed when she had come to.

  She turned toward the doors, but Alastair stayed her. “I am not the bantering sort, am I, Millie?”

  “And you picked a pretty time to start with such nonsense!”

  She pulled on the door, but he put his arm to it to keep it shut. She glared at him.

  “Let me pass,” she demanded. “They might have started the pairing.”

  “They likely have, but you shall not be returning.”

  Her lower lip fell once more, and her eyes widened. “You mean to keep me away—”

  “From that Devon fellow. Most assuredly.”

  “What of Miss Hollingsworth? Surely you do not prefer my company over hers?”

  “It matters not. You are staying with me tonight till Katherine returns for you in the morning.”

  Now her lower lip trembled. “How dare you, sir! You are not my keeper, my father, nor a brother.”

  “All true but of no consequence to me.”

  He could see her thoughts swirling chaotically through her head.

  “You’ve no right!”

  “It disturbs me little if you wish to think me a tyrant.”

  “But I did not choose to be with you!”

  “It only matters that I chose you.”

  “I protest! Madame Follet will hear me.”

  “Marguerite has approved our match.”

  “That can’t be true! I will speak with her—”

  “Only upon my permission.”

  She stared at him as if he were daft and attempted to yank the door open.

  “This is madness, Alastair! You are ruining the night for both of us.”

  “For which you will thank me when you have returned to your senses.”

  She looked ready to scream at him. He had never seen his cousin lose her composure before and was mildly interested by the prospect, for the culpability of the night’s ruin must be traced to her for coming to the château in the first place.

  “You will forfeit the company of that ravenous beauty to mind me?” she tried.

  “Never say I never did anything for you, Millie.”

  Now she looked ready to pommel him. She emitted a frustrated grunt and kicked him in the shin. Surprised, he let his arm slip from the door. She pulled the handle, yanking the door into him, but he recovered and shut it closed.

  “Right,” he said, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. He headed toward her chambers.

  “Alastair!” she yelped. “Put me down! Alastair!”

  He resisted her struggles and mounted the stairs. He knew the chambers Marguerite would have given to a newcomer.

  Millie tried to right herself upon his shoulder. “Who is the one acting ridiculous? Alastair! Come to your senses!”

  She strained against him, trying to wriggle off, but he did not set her down till they were in her chambers.

  “I wonder what Lady Katherine would say if she knew of your conduct?” Millie cried. Her coiffure had slipped and now sat askew upon her head. A rosy flush spread across her cheeks, but it was not unbecoming.

  “I fully intend to have a word with my aunt about this,” he replied. “I will send for Bhadra to pack your belongings, that you may leave as early as possible in the morning. Till then, you are to stay in your chambers.”

  “I protest this highhandedness!”

  “Protest away,” he grumbled as he took his leave, closing the door and locking it.

  Behind him, he heard the scream she had been withholding.

  He blew out his breath and ran a hand through his hair. What a mess. But at least Millie was safe from Devon. For a moment, he considered returning to the assembly room to see if Miss Hollingsworth might, by chance, be still available. But it would not be right to lock Millie in her room for the night whilst he enjoyed himself.

  After finding Bhadra and instructing her to prepare a cup of tea and milk, he sought his valet, who was understandably surprised to learn they should prepare to travel in the morning. His valet, a strapping blackamoor, was rather popular at the château and visibly disappointed at their early departure.

  Alastair stopped by his own chambers to avail himself of a glass of brandy. He shook his head. This was what was got when he concerned himself in the affairs of others. He did not like that Katherine had forced his hand, but he could not bring himself to completely disregard the woman who had looked over him like a mother. Katherine had said the selection with whom to fulfill her birthday wish was his, but she had chosen for him. His aunt could be quite wily.

  He briefly wondered how invested Marguerite was in the collusion. She had readily blessed his selection for the night. Given how she had defended Millie’s right to be here, he had expected her hesitation or objection. Instead, she had seemed rather pleased and had made no inquiries at all into whether or not Millie had consented to the match.

  What would have happened if he hadn’t foiled Katherine’s setup? He could easily hav
e minded his own affairs and partaken of the indulgence he had been anticipating the past sennight. If the only risk to Millie was that she might be discovered, he would, perhaps, have accepted the chances. But Devon, too, had forced his hand. The Viscount seemed genuinely interested in Millie.

  Alastair supposed he ought not be terribly surprised. Though no beauty, Millie was not unpleasant to the eye. While she had not the elegance of a slender form, she, like the women in a Reuben painting, still held the appeals of her sex. And she was an intelligent creature and far more fearless than he had expected.

  And libidinous. Good God, she was not a virgin. He had not suspected that. And of all places, she wanted to remain at Château Follet. There was much more to Millie than met the eye. Much more.

  “The tea and milk you desired, my lord,” Bhadra said from his chamber threshold.

  Finishing off his brandy, he gestured for Bhadra to follow him. He would ensure Millie drank the tea and milk while Bhadra prepared the portmanteau so that there would be no delay in departure in the morning. He would then suggest that Millie rest in preparation for the morrow’s journey.

  But when he and Bhadra entered the chambers, they discovered the room empty.

  “What the devil…” he cursed after looking about the room. Then he noticed the balcony doors slightly ajar. He jerked them open and stepped outside.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MILDRED NEARLY LOST her footing as she landed on the adjacent balcony. Perhaps leaping from one balcony to another while one's faculties were a little clouded by wine was not the wisest. But she would not be made a prisoner in her chambers, especially by her cousin, who had no right to interfere in her affairs—well, not since he had declined to intervene in her engagement. She tested the balcony doors and found them locked. She looked to the next nearest balcony. Fortunately, it was not a far jump. She climbed onto the railing and leaped. She stumbled and fell to one knee as she landed. A bruise might come of it, but she was otherwise unharmed. She dusted off her gown and tried the balcony doors. This set was unlocked, and she let herself in.

  "Pardon me, monsieur," she gasped when she saw a couple in amorous embrace upon the bed. They were, unsurprisingly, startled to see her.

  "I, er, lost my way," Mildred explained as she made for the chamber doors.

  “You are more than welcome to watch," the man said.

  Mildred felt her face burn. “A gracious invitation, sir, but I must return to the assembly room."

  She hustled out of the room and down the hall. She could not recall a more embarrassing scene, though discovering her cousin during dinner was more upsetting. What an insufferable man he was. He had never before shown any interest in her. Why did he choose now to meddle? And how was she going to rid herself of his intrusion?

  Hoping that she would not cross his path, she hurried back to the assembly room. She would not be surprised if Lord Devon had forsaken her and chosen another, but she had to find out. She opened the doors to the assembly room, only to find it empty. The pairings must have been completed. Perhaps Lord Devon had gone off with Miss Hollingsworth.

  Disappointment welled in her bosom. She had truly thought Lord Devon might choose her for the night. If he had, the château would've surpassed all expectation. She would not have been surprised if she had gone unselected. Thus, the fact that she was alone was something she had been prepared for, but it was not as easy to bear once her hopes had been raised. Now all hope was dashed, thanks to her cousin.

  Or perhaps he was right that no one would have chosen her. Perhaps Lord Devon was merely being nice to her. When presented with the chance to be with the likes of Miss Hollingsworth, what man of sense would choose Mildred Abbott?

  With a sigh, she sat down on the settee and wondered what she should do with herself. Should she return to the room she had left a moment ago and accept the man's invitation to watch? Could she be so bold? Why not?

  But what if Alastair objected? Well, it was not his place to dictate what she could or could not do. He might think it because he was providing her dowry. Nevertheless, it was not her place to be ungrateful.

  Regardless, she had not come to the château to twiddle her thumbs. She rose to her feet and looked about. If Alastair found her, he would lock her in her chambers once more, and she had no wish to go to bed just yet. Leaving the assembly room, she made her way down the corridor, away from the stairs that led to her chambers.

  She gasped when she passed by a set of double doors that opened to an expansive room full of art. From the threshold, she marveled at the volume of paintings, ceramics, tapestries, castings, sculptures and lithograph. All with themes and subjects were intended to titillate. Entering further, Mildred first examined the more benign oi paintings of a woman naked but for a sheet draped over her legs, another of a woman bathing in a pond, and the third of a naked man stretched across the grass in a pastoral setting. Mildred moved onto the tapestries on the next wall. The tapestries did not show the human form in as realistic detail as the oil paintings, but the nature of the subjects were much more naughty as they depicted various men and women, some with clothing, some without, in obvious congress. Turning about, she beheld a collection of Greek pottery. Here the wantonness deepened. One plate appeared to show two women caressing one another. The vase beside the plate showed two men in similar passions.

  "Oh, my," Mildred said when her gaze went beyond the pottery to a sculpture of a naked man, his form as chiseled as that of Michelangelo's David, with one notable difference: the male appendage stood straight and tall. Approaching the sculpture, she examined the erection. The stableboy she had tumbled had not possessed a member half the size of the one upon the statue Was the latter an exaggeration or could a man possibly have an erection of such thickness and length?

  A warmth had begun stirring in the lower parts of her body, and the heat and wonder only grew as she observed more wickedness in a set of lithographs. In one, the couple was dressed in the garments of the previous century, but the voluminous skirts did not hamper the woman's ability to display her most private parts. The man, in full dress, also displayed his wares; it pointed at moss loss of hair between her thighs. In the second lithograph, the man stood. The woman was upon her knees and appeared to be in the act of taking his member into her mouth. Mildred felt her mind reeling. For what purpose would a woman and man engage in such an act? The stableboy had asked her to kiss his “sword,” as he had called it. She had done so—quickly—for it had seemed unnatural, uncouth, bawdy… and lascivious.

  Unsettled by the conflicting emotions that the art had elicited within her, Mildred took a step back. She bumped into the table behind her. It teetered, and the bronze figurines upon it fell to the rug below. Thankfully, nothing was broken. She picked up the figure of a prone and naked man and the figure of a prone and naked woman. She supposed they must have been lying in congress. She put the male figure upon the table and the woman atop it, but they did not appear to fit properly. She placed the woman below and the man on top. Still the positioning looked awkward. She tried adjusting the figures.

  "You have replaced them incorrectly."

  Startled, she dropped one of the figures.

  Alastair stood at the threshold, his arms crossed, his lips in a frown.

  She bent down and struck the back of her head on the underside of the table in her attempt to retrieve the figure. She tried placing the female figure atop the male figure again.

  Alastair shook his head.

  Squaring her shoulders, she met her cousin’s gaze and waited in silence until he strode over, took the female figure, rotated the body and placed it atop the male figure. Now the figures sat atop the table securely and the limbs of both figures did not appear at incongruous angles.

  But surely this could not be how th artist intended the figures to fit? For the woman’s crotch was upon the man’s head, and her face was buried upon his…

  Heat colored her cheeks. At that, Alastair said, “We should return to your chambers.”<
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  “There is no need for you to make me a prisoner, sir. I have lost what chance I might have had with Lord Devon, slim though my prospects might have been. You need no longer worry that I might fall into the wrong hands.”

  She made no mention of the invitation from the couple she had stumbled across.

  Alastair took her by the elbow. “I cannot trust you to your own devices. Climbing balconies in the dark—while inebriated—is hardly prudent activity.”

  She yanked her arm from him. “If you had not put me in so desperate a situation, I never would have considered it.”

  “All this is my doing?”

  “I certainly did not ask to be so rudely handled by you. Perhaps if you had granted my request of the dowry, neither one of us would be in such an unsatisfactory situation.”

  She spoke unfairly, but she was too cross at him to mind.

  “You may satisfy yourself that, after tonight, I shall never concern myself with you again.”

  “Thank God!”

  He stared at her, and she wondered at the wisdom of her boldness when she saw a vein at this temple throb.

  “Stop behaving like a child, Millie.”

  He reached once more for her, but she avoided him.

  “I am merely exploring the château. What objection could you have to that?”

  “I object to what you will encounter. There are sights here that are not for the delicate—”

  “Sights such as this?” She gestured to the room. “They do not frighten me. They intrigue me.”

  “Because you have little experience with any of this.”

  “And that is precisely why I have come to Chateau Follet!”

  A muscle rippled along his jaw.

  “My constitution is not as slight as you would presume.”

  “Nevertheless.” He started dragging her toward the doors. "There is far more depravity here than you could ever imagine."

  "You know not what I have imagined."