by EM BROWN
His tone had lost its touch of amusement. He spoke slowly, “An’ you think me such a monster, why do you allow me near the girls at the asylum?”
At first, she faltered in the face of his logic. As odious as she thought him to be, she could not bring herself to believe him evil.
“I would not,” she finally decided, “had I a choice.”
He shook his head. “It was in your power to decide otherwise. One always has a choice.”
“I could not disappoint the girls.”
“And if they wished to eat naught but cake and confections at every repast, you would not disappoint them?”
She sucked in her breath, bristling at his apt rejoinders, but then when she glanced at him, she chanced to imagine him a plumb cake and laughed. The humor returned to his face, brightening the sparkle of his eyes.
“You are a hundred times worse than the most deceitful of cakes,” she said with a shake of her head, “and I am a fool to have allowed them to indulge such temptation.”
“Thank you, I loathe to think I could not best a trifle or sugar plum.”
A chuckle escaped her. This was madness. How could she engage in such banter with a man she had labeled a murderer but a moment ago? Granted, there were clearly circumstances surrounding his duel with Jonathan Weston that favored Lord Barclay somehow. Even the men serving as seconds for Weston had refused to implicate Barclay.
He was still a blatant debaucher. She should fear for her own repute if they were discovered to have spent such time together, but no one would seriously consider that Lord Barclay was attempting to seduce her. A wistful sigh rose within her. When they arrived at Lowry House, she almost wished the ride had not finished so quickly.
“Have you discharged your footman?” he commented when none of the servants arrived to greet them. He dismounted and came to her side before she could protest.
She had already begun to slide off her mount. He caught her at the waist and eased her to the ground. It was a natural action for him to take, and she did not think to accuse him of any impropriety, but the blood pounded madly between her ears. She found herself in such proximity to him that the brim of her hat could graze his face. Trapped between his body and that of the horse, she could manage no movement. She looked up at him and saw a quixotic intensity upon his features she had not seen before. Warmth flared through her body in response. She felt like she was about to be his prey, and it was the most intoxicating sensation. If he should lower his head to kiss her, she would not stop it.
Instead, he reached for the bridle behind her. “Allow me to see to your horse.”
Dumbly, she nodded.
He bowed his head. “Until next Wednesday, Countess.”
Tempering her disappointment, she nodded and walked up the steps. One of the maids answered the door, and Gertie swept inside without a backwards glance. Her heart continued to hammer at her chest. How she wished Harrietta were in town! She desperately needed a friend to help untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in her head. Alas, she had received a letter from the Marchioness this morning stating that she did not think her little one ready to make the journey to London and she could not bear to leave him.
“Was that Lord Barclay?” Sarah asked when Gertie had walked past the parlor that overlooked the entry to Lowry House.
“It was,” Gertie answered curtly, not wishing to engage in dialogue.
“Does he mean to call upon us?” Sarah inquired eagerly.
“I think not.”
She wanted solitude in her chambers, but Sarah continued to speak.
“Then...I don’t understand. What is he doing here then?”
“He—he accompanied me on an errand.”
“He accompanied you? Why?”
Gertie almost found herself replying because he is a gentleman. Which was an absurd consideration for a debaucher. But she had to admit that he did not have to escort her to St. Giles. One always has a choice, he had said.
To Sarah, she simply shrugged, saying, “I am not one to guess at his motives.”
Sarah knit her brows, and Gertie could not help a small sense of triumph at Sarah’s obvious jealousy.
“I heard he is wont to be capricious,” Sarah said.
Gertie had not heard such a thing, but she merely nodded and took her leave. In the quiet of her own chambers, she replayed her last moment with Barclay. His nearness had been overpowering, yet exhilarating. It had been by chance, of course, that he stood so close to her. Yet the look in his eyes...Gertie shivered, recalling how a muscle along his jaw had twitched.
Agitated that she was proving to be no different than any other weak-willed quarry of his, she reached for her riding crop and called upon the powers of Lady Athena to shore her resolve. Then she remembered the handkerchief that she had seen at Lord Barclay’s home.
It belonged to Sarah.
Chapter Seven
THE FARRINGTON WOMEN had taken leave of their senses, Phineas decided as he opened his door to admit Sarah. The Countess of Lowry suffered delusions that she could ride safely into St. Giles alone, and now Lady Sarah was risking her reputation calling upon him at his home during the day.
“Are you seeking to have me exiled, Lady Sarah?” he asked as he settled himself into a chair after seeing her seated on the settee of his drawing room.
“Nonsense. You and I both know Alexander has not the courage to demand satisfaction,” she replied stiffly.
“There will come a time when he feels his hand has been forced.”
“He cares not what I do. He only wishes to marry me off to some fat, old man that he can collect upon the dowry,” Sarah said with biting bitterness.
“If he be a kind fat, old man, there are worse conditions.”
“What a heartless man you are!”
He recalled the dialogue he had had earlier with Lady Lowry. The remonstrance from Sarah affected him not at all, but the accusations of the Countess had not fallen as lightly. Perhaps it was the emptiness of having spent five years on the Continent that had made him more susceptible to Lady Lowry’s comments. He did not often associate himself with women of her character, though a woman like the Countess could easily be seduced into admitting her own hypocrisy.
Lacking in admirers, the Countess, despite her vociferousness, would ultimately be flattered by his attentions. He could see the sadness that she tried to hide from him, covering it with indignation over his audacity. He knew her marriage to Alexander to be unsatisfying but could not tell if she knew of his mistress. No doubt she did. But what could a woman do? Such was the tragedy of the fair sex when it came to matrimony. He would never place a woman in such a pitiless position.
He could have seduced her right there against her mount. She would not have offered much resistance. He could see it in her eyes, sense the tension in her body, smell her anticipation. Strangely, he had felt an urge to kiss her—and in full view of the Lowry House and its habitants. He remembered her full and supple lips, the rouge upon them wanting a little more application. With the proper aid, the Countess need not present herself quite so plain.
His body was tuned for sex, and it did not surprise him that he should respond to her arousal. Why he should care about how the Lady Lowry felt towards him was a more intriguing puzzle. The fact that he could seduce her into agreeing to the question of the mine did not escape him. Perhaps that was what Robert expected him to do. But he had no interest in pursuing that means to the end. The Countess warranted better than that.
“Have you lost your ability to speak?” Sarah’s churlish voice intruded into his thoughts.
He eyed her with the notion to lay her across his lap and spank her. He had suspected she was a naughty girl in search of punishment. Last night, she had invited herself over. He trusted his servants to be discreet, but she had no such knowledge. Nonetheless, she had all but demanded he take her to bed. He had willingly done so for his last session with the Lady Athena had left him aggravated.
Without bothering to r
elease her from the confines of her gown, he had bent Sarah out his open window, threw up her skirts, and taken her from behind. The hour had been late, the candles in his room snuffed, but the moon had been out and an occasional patron of the alehouse around the corner stumbled by. He knew Sarah had enjoyed every minute of it.
He wondered if the Countess would have been similarly titillated. Would she be mortified or aroused that a passerby should look up and see her being fucked out the window? Both. Something about the Countess signaled to him that she was not as staid and boring as one might first believe. She was simply a field unplowed, a trail untraveled.
The image of the Countess being pummeled by his cock as she hung halfway out his window made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“What business had you with my sister-in-law?” Sarah repeated.
“Business that does not concern you,” he answered. “My dear, I think it unwise of you to come here.”
She bristled.
“And safest if we conclude our liaison. I have no wish to tarnish your marital prospects.”
He rose to his feet.
“But–”
As he pulled her to her feet, he kissed her hand. “May our families put aside their differences, as we two have.”
“But–”
He led her to the door whilst she was still in shock.
“Until that day, Lady Sarah.”
“But–”
In another moment he would have her out the door and he could return to this intriguing fantasy of the Countess, but just then his brother appeared.
“Lady Sarah!” Robert greeted in surprise.
Sarah flushed. Turning to Phineas, she attempted her most formal tone, “Good day to you, Lord Barclay.”
“And to you,” Phineas returned.
“It is the Lady Lowry that I asked you to speak with,” Robert said when Sarah had left.
“I am aware,” Phineas replied, heading to the sideboard in the drawing room. His thoughts of the Countess would have to wait.
“And? Have you spoken with her?”
“Have you five hundred pounds about you? Of course you have. You were always the miser of the family.”
“What for? Is that what they propose to charge us for tunneling on their land?”
Phineas handed his brother a glass of sherry. “Take the five hundred pounds and issue it to the Orphan Asylum for Girls in St. Giles.”
“Orphan asylum? Phineas, what are you about? Is that what the Countess demands from us?”
“No. It is your foray into philanthropy.”
“My...? Phineas, explain yourself. Have you spoken with Lady Lowry?”
“Not of the mine.”
“But you have spoken with her?”
Settling back into his chair with his own glass, Phineas recalled the rather enjoyable conversation with the Countess.
“Yes,” Phineas relented. “You will be pleased to know that she now loathes me somewhat less.”
“Jolly good. Then you will broach the subject of the mine when you next meet?”
“Perhaps. I have not yet won her over. My remark about her dismal selection in riding clothes put her off.”
“Your...?”
Robert looked at his wine and downed it nearly one gulp. He shook his head. “I shall never understand you, Phineas.”
“It would seem as if we were from different families instead of brothers,” Phineas sympathized.
“I would I had never been ‘adopted!’” Robert retorted. “There is no end to the farce in our family. First you–”
“Ah, dear Mama and Papa were first.”
“And now Georgina and this wretched crim con of hers. Abigail wants me to escort Georgina to Vauxhall. Says it would do much to cheer her as they have a menagerie. But my wife will not be seen in her company. Perhaps you could...”
Phineas considered the challenge of going from Vauxhall to Madame Botreaux’s. He had not yet missed a night at the Cavern and had no intention of starting.
Seeing his brother’s hesitation, Robert continued, “For bloody sake, Phineas, can you not put yourself to use?”
Phineas started, the words of the Countess ringing in his head. “Tell Georgina I cannot stay for long.”
Robert nodded in gratitude. “Do you think the Countess will allow us access of the Lowry land?”
“I think so.”
“I was right to have you talk with her then. Why was Lady Sarah here?”
“You have no wish to know.”
Robert sighed. Taking up his hat and gloves, he rose to his feet. “I hope you are not attempting to seduce the Countess of Lowry? I have no desire to incur the wrath of a Farrington if we are to tunnel beneath their land.”
Phineas thought of the anger Sarah would no doubt experience when she emerged from her shock.
“I thought you intended I should use my arts of persuasion?” he replied.
Robert opened his mouth, but no words came to him. Phineas watched his brother depart, wondering when the poor chap would finally master the skill of ignoring his older brother. He finished off his wine, then proceeded upstairs to prepare for a night at the Cavern.
LADY ATHENA FOUND HEPHAESTUS waiting for her in all his naked glory. She could never tire of seeing his sculpted body. He stood in full confidence of his nakedness, and she was reminded how unlike a submissive he was. No matter. He would be submitting to her soon enough.
Tonight she wore her black ensemble with black fingerless gloves that went past her elbow. Tonight he would experience the dominance of Lady Athena. Tonight he would not dare trifle with her.
“Pleasure yourself, Hephaestus,” she told him.
Wordlessly, he gripped his cock and coaxed it to hardness, all the while staring at her. She allowed him this impudence and even teased him by playing with one of her nipples, which protruded just above the top of her corset. She pinched her nipple, pulled it, twisted it. His cock lengthened quickly in response. Striding over, she pressed a finger upon his shaft to feel its hardness. Her finger slid over the ridge of a vein and toward the swollen head.
“Lay down,” she said and directed him to a wooden platform of knee height and shackles at each corner.
He did as told. She locked his wrists and his ankles into the shackles, then stepped back to admire his body being pulled taut, his cock sticking up like the mast of a ship. Walking over to the candelabra, she plucked out a candle and held it over him. She tilted the candle. The hot wax fell onto his stomach. He sucked in his breath but made no sound. Hovering the candle above his left nipple, she dripped more of the wax onto him. She covered his other nipple with wax. As she waited for the wax to melt, she kissed him hard, forcing her tongue into his mouth, imposing her will upon him. She pulled her lips away when he began to respond to her kiss.
“You are mine, Hephaestus,” she whispered near his ear. “Mine to do as I desire.”
Moving towards his legs, she pressed his cock level with one hand and poured the wax upon it. His hands clenched, and the chains rattled. Smiling, she returned the candle.
“Thank you, Mistress Athena.”
“You have done well, Hephaestus,” she said. “As a reward, you may taste my cunnie.”
Straddling his chest, she lowered herself down upon him. She was already wet there, and he would have much to lick. He ran his tongue along her folds, then closed his mouth about her clit and sucked. Gertie closed her eyes and moaned. It was just the right amount of pressure to make her crave for more. Laying her chest along his body, she took the uncovered part of his shaft into her mouth. Reaching below his cock, she began to fondle him roughly. She pulled at his sack and squeezed his scrotum. His legs jerked at the pain, but he did not disrupt the rhythm of his tongue darting at her clit.
He was a skilled submissive for he took the time to find her most sensitive spots. He licked with precision, and she found it difficult to concentrate on her own task of instilling pain while she received pleasure. His motions stoked the fir
e in her belly, and she was tempted to buck her hips against his face, but she did not want to disturb the delight his tongue was swirling in her quim. The yearning between her legs stretched for its desired release.
No.
Jerking herself from the pool of pleasure, she lifted herself away from him.
“Let me finish, Mistress,” he said.
Her breath haggard, she rose to her feet and looked down at him. Her wetness glistened upon his face.
“It will not take long,” he added.
That was precisely why she had to stop.
“You like the taste of cunnie, do you?” she asked.
“Its nectar be more delectable than wine, Mistress Athena.”
“Do you worship the cunnie, Hephaestus?”
“I prefer it to any church.”
His words reminded her of her earlier conversation with Lord Barclay.
“It is a divine thing, Mistress Athena,” he continued. “Yours is divine. Your swollen nub of pleasure protruding from supple, pink folds called to me. I would have worshiped it with my tongue, my mouth, my nose, my fingers–”
“Your nose?”
A corner of his mouth curled. “Your quim has a luscious scent, Mistress Athena. I enjoy using any part of me that is at my disposal, especially as my hands are bound.”
Gertie curled her toes inside her boot. Her insides churned with curiosity. Her body wanted more of his touch.
“How do you like to spend, Hephaestus?”
“Wrapped inside the chapel of your desire,” he quipped.
She picked up her riding crop and let it fall against his inside thigh.
“Mistress Athena,” he added.
She peeled off the wax that had hardened upon his cock and obtained from her table a small vial. She poured the contents into her hand, then rubbed the slick salve onto his erection. The liquid seemed to warm against his flesh. She smoothed her hands along his length. He shuddered when her palm swept over the swollen head of his cock. How easy it would be to yield himself to her caresses, but then he remembered how she had denied him before. And he refused to spend before her.
