Verity bit down hard on her lower lip to bring herself back to reality. Wake up, you stupid girl! She chided herself. Mr. Windham does not care a fig for you! That much is obvious! Better you go about your life and find some other, more reasonable, suitor than waste your life away on a fantasy that could never be.
So resolved, she pushed the thought of Mr. Windham completely from her mind and returned to practicing her needlework. She focused so thoroughly that she did not realize it was well past the dinner hour until one of the maids came upon her in the parlor.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Gibbs, but they’re looking for you in the dining room. Shall I tell them you’re not hungry?”
“N-no, that’s not necessary, truly. I shall be in straightaway. I just got… carried up with this project.”
“Very good, miss.”
Verity wasn’t sure what to make of her current condition. It was as though she were bewitched! But, as any modern woman, she had built up strong wards against common bewitchments and curses. So what else could it be?
Her hand strayed to the curious necklace that her benefactor and guardian had gifted her, and she paused. It couldn’t be… could it? Had Mr. Windham given her a bewitched item under the pretense of a birthday present? There was only one way to be sure.
Verity went down to the dining hall and ate the dinner prepared for her, then marched straightaway back to her room. She had planned on dressing for a surreptitious evening out, longing for some fresh air and freedom, but as she crossed her room to her wardrobe, she felt a flash of warmth at her breast. Verity looked down to see the pendant glowing a soft red momentarily. Faith! So it was Mr. Windham, after all! He had deliberately gifted her with an enchanted necklace!
She had little time to marvel at this realization. A sudden flash of longing and desire flooded every corner of her being and Verity fell to her knees then and there. She closed her eyes, and she could almost see him, there in front of her, his prick bobbing just at eye level. Scarcely believing what she was doing, Verity tilted her head back and opened her mouth invitingly. There was a pregnant pause as she waited in the empty silence of the room and then she felt—truly felt!—Mr. Windham feed her his prick.
He was cautious, pushing in only an inch or so past her full, red lips at first. But the more her tongue wrapped around him encouragingly, the deeper his thrusts became. Soon, Verity found herself open-mouthed and on her knees, pleasuring an unseen prick. She certainly felt him, though, all salty heat and earthly, manly, desire. Verity opened her mouth wider, encouraging her unseen lover to go deeper still.
She had never performed such an act before, but she had secretly read many an indecent account that got passed around between her fellow girls at boarding school, and she had the basic idea of how it was meant to work. Verity experimented, licking her tongue along the smooth, invisible head, tightening her lips around it, bobbing down faster and then slower.
When she paused to think about what she was doing, ingrained guilt and the ghost of her maidenly virtue rushed in to tell her how bad, how utterly, wantonly naughty she was being. But how could such a thing be wrong, truly, Verity argued with herself. She was breaking no marriage vows, ceding no chastity. All she was doing was kneeling, quite alone, in her private room with her mouth open. Was that so very different from prayer?
The pause seemed to make her phantom suitor grow impatient. An unfamiliar sensation flooded her: the hot, throbbing manhood pushed further down beyond the sweet wetness of her mouth and into her very throat! Verity gagged, coughing and struggling for air, and the feeling intensified. She felt phantom hands at the back of her head urging her on. It was as though her unseen lover were saying you can take it, just a little more. Open wider for me, pet, there’s a good girl. Take all of it, deep as you can. Good girl.
Verity shivered and offered her throat to her phantom. If it was Mr. Windham, all the better. If it wasn’t? Who was to say otherwise? She felt the presence slide out of her mouth completely for a moment before once again slipping between her lips and all the way down her throat. Verity gasped and tilted her head slightly further back. She was beginning to get the trick of it.
Please, Mr. Windham, enjoy me, she thought. For truly, if it were her guardian Christopher Windham somehow using arcane magic to project himself down her throat, Verity felt that she would not hold it against him and indeed, would be thoroughly impressed with not only his ingenious logic, but his utter devotion to her personage. Clearly, someone like Mr. Windham could obtain the services of a skilled mistress no matter what city he might be staying in that night. To go to all the trouble to avail himself of Verity’s amateur talents was a strong indicator of devotion, indeed.
Her phantom Mr. Windham’s movements accelerated, quickening in urgency and pace. Verity felt a thrill of pleasure run through her—her own Mr. Windham was going to climax using her mouth! She tried to be quiet, not wanting any passing staff to overhear her, but she could not helping moaning softly with delight at the idea. One of her hands strayed beneath the folds of her dress and she touched the sensitive velvet of her Venus mound, stroking herself there as urgently as Mr. Windham stroked her throat.
Suddenly, she felt his prick push deep into the back of her throat and throb and pulse there. Mr. Windham’s thick rod spasmed and then Verity’s mouth was filled with creamy, salty heat, spilling down her throat. She swallowed rapidly, not wanting to make a mess, and as the invisible member went soft and pulled out of her mouth, Verity licked the remainder from her lips. It tasted surprisingly good and the whole experience left her shaking and yearning for more. She increased the motion of her fingers between her thighs and soon enough, she, too, was biting down hard on her lip to keep herself from moaning out load with pleasure as it crested over her.
Yes, Mr. Windham, let me drink of you. She revisited the experience in her memory again and again. Let me be your secret joy, as you are mine. The necklace at her neck grew to cold, impartial metal once again and Verity knew that the connection had been severed. She wondered if her guardian were lying by himself in bed at that moment, thinking of her. She wondered how much he had enjoyed the attentions of her mouth, and if he knew just how much she had enjoyed it herself.
Chapter Four
Mr. Windham did not use the powers of the necklace the next day, nor the day after that, nor any day for the entirety of a week. Verity didn’t know what to make of the sudden and quite unexpected absence. Surely, she hadn’t been that bad at sucking a prick? Surely Mr. Windham still very much wanted her? Verity went through the motions of her days with such absent-minded preoccupation that her friends began to take notice. She was almost beginning to believe she had dreamt the whole ordeal.
“Verity, are you taking ill?” Her cousin Elizabeth asked her as they took a turn through the tree-lined avenues of Kinsman Park.
“Oh, la! Nothing of the sort,” Verity laughed off the inquiry and smiled at her cousin. “I was merely thinking of Mr. Windham…”
“Were you, indeed?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow significantly. “And how fares your guardian these days?”
“He is away on business in Berlin,” said Verity with greater abruptness than she had intended. “And he never writes so that is all that I know.”
“Would you want him to write to you?” Elizabeth asked her cousin wonderingly. When Verity expressed confusion, Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “Forgive me my impertinence, coz, it’s just that this is the first time I have ever heard you express anything other than complete indifference towards your guardian! What was it you said when you became his ward? I’m far too old for another father-figure now, and at any rate he will never replace Papa. And besides that, Mr. Windham seems to be unfortunately and appallingly dull.”
Verity blushed furiously and quickened her walking pace.
“I may have spoken in error,” she admitted, touching the pendant at her breast.
Verity wasn’t certain it was prudent to divulge the shifting nature of her connect
ion to Mr. Windham.
“In error, Verity?” Elizabeth’s curiosity was unfortunately piqued. “Whatever could you mean by that?”
“Just that Mr. Windham is not so very dull as I first proclaimed him to be. He has… many admirable qualities.”
“To be sure,” Elizabeth said. “Such as?”
Verity stumbled over a rock in the path and caught herself.
“S-such as… Mr. Windham is an excellent businessman, and very diligent with his… tax records.”
“Tax records,” Elizabeth repeated flatly.
“Yes, his tax records. Mama always told me that true man of means should always maintain a firm hand on his tax records. It shows steel in his backbone and a mindfulness of his own life.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. She stopped abruptly on their walk and turned to her cousin. “Verity, I must strongly insist that you drop this pretense! It’s me you’re speaking with, not some village gossip! If you and Mr. Windham—” Here she lowered her voice to an urgent whisper and stepped closer to Verity. “If you and Mr. Windham are becoming something more than guardian-ward then I for one am honored to be the first to hear of it and to wish you merry felicitations on your future nuptials! But, Verity, you must promise me that Mr. Windham is not… taking advantage of you, do you understand what I mean? You are in a delicate position right now! If Mr. Windham was to press you into some untoward service and then cast you out once he was done with you, your prospects would be ruined!”
“Oh, Lizzy, la! As if Mr. Windham were even capable of behaving in any way other than an absolute and flawless gentleman! He sent me to boarding school practically the moment he took guardianship over me! His behavior towards me in private and public are without reproach. Why, he has never lain so much as a finger upon me except for when—”
Here, Verity trailed off and brushed her fingertips along the pendant once more. Elizabeth’s gaze followed the movement and she smirked triumphantly.
“He gave you a diamond necklace for your birthday, oh—Verity! This is wonderful news!”
“It is just a necklace!” Verity said quickly, wishing desperately that her face would stop feeling so hot and flushed.
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth continued on. “There is no such thing as just a diamond necklace between a man and a woman.”
Verity could not argue that point, but nor could she reveal to Elizabeth the true nature of the amulet. She ceded the topic to Elizabeth with a node.
“I believe you have the right of it, then.” She said. “And I promise, Lizzy, you shall be the very first to be informed of Mr. Windham’s proposal.
Elizabeth was content to change the subject at that point, both women knowing it was dreadfully ill luck to begin speaking of an engagement before it had been formally announced. This allowed Verity’s mind to wander back towards thoughts of what might possibly have happened to Mr. Windham that he would use her so passionately one night and then ignore her for a week after.
Had something happened to him in Berlin? But surely the household would have been notified, and thusly she as the interim mistress of the house while he was away. Had he become overworked with the demands of his business and simply hadn’t the time to use the amulet or pen a letter? Perhaps he had written, but the letter had been lost in the post.
So plagued was her mind that when she returned home alone later that afternoon from her day of social calls, she almost did not recognize Mr. Windham himself, walking down the front steps of the Hall to greet her carriage.
“Mr. Windham,” she said, quite breathless with surprise.
“Miss Gibbs,” he replied, giving a gentlemanly bow of his head. When he looked up at her he stared so intently that she began to form the opinion that he wanted her to say something first.
“Welcome home,” she ventured at last. This seemed to knock him out of the spell he had been under, and Mr. Windham blushed charmingly and opened her carriage door to help her out.
“Thank you. It is good to be back.”
With the success of the last sentence, Verity decided to continue down that line of conversation. “I trust business in Berlin went well?”
“Ah, Berlin, yes. Yes, quite well.” Mr. Windham replied as they walked up the steps to Crossfox Hall together. She kept catching him casting sidewise glances in her direction.
“And all is then concluded?”
Fortunately for Verity and her bursting curiosity, Mr. Windham put an end to the small-talk as soon as they were within the walls of the house and took her by both hands, pulling her into his study.
“Miss Gibbs—Verity—there is something of much greater import that I must speak with you about forthwith.”
“Is that so, Mr. Windham?” Verity’s eyes shone bright. This is the moment she thought.
“I… that is… we…”
“We, Mr. Windham?”
“Oh, hang it all.” Mr. Windham paced from one end of the room to the other then stopped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked at her in somber earnest and said: “Miss Gibbs, I will say it plainly: you and I engaged in a… mystical experience with one another that was altogether inappropriate and highly out of line. The fault lies entirely with me, of course. I deeply apologize and can only vow that it shall never happen again, nor will I ever allow it to cause a stain on your reputation. I will make every endeavor to be certain that our paths do not cross here at home during the times when I am not away on business.”
Verity felt as though some monstrous beast had come along and ripped out her insides with one fell swoop of its claws. She staggered and caught herself by placing a hand on a nearby desk. How could he mean any of it for one instant?
“You vow…” she began, then laughed bitterly as she thought of how only a few hours ago Elizabeth had been so certain that Mr. Windham was designing to propose to her. “Mr. Windham, I feel that in the interest of absolute honesty I must tell you that I feel powerfully abused by you, sir. How dare you?”
“Miss Gibbs, I cannot begin to make amends for what happened…”
Verity frowned.
“Just tell me why, Mr. Windham. Why would you go to the trouble of procuring this amulet, use it with me scarcely two times, and then… and then discard me so cruelly?”
“Miss Gibbs…”
“Do not Miss Gibbs me, Mr. Windham! I may be young and inexperienced and you may be my ward but I will have myself heard, sir! Now. First, there is something I must apologize for. Earlier today, I accused you of being a perfect specimen of a gentleman. I see, now, that I was gravely mistaken and that you are instead the lowest sort of scoundrel with the capacity to put on shoes.
“Secondly…. Secondly, Mr. Windham, if this is the path which you have fixed your heart upon and you no longer wish to pursue relations of any sort with me, then I will need you to hand over that bangle.”
Mr. Windham, who had started out that moment looking the very picture of abject misery, stared openly and uncomprehendingly at Verity, as though believing that his ears must have been deceiving him.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked. Verity held out her hand expectantly and lifted her chin.
“The mate to this necklace, Mr. Windham. I will have it from you now, if you please.”
“Out of the question.” He said mildly but with great finality. Verity’s eyes flashed indignation.
“Well. I am certainly not handing over this necklace for you, Mr. Windham. Not so that you might pass it around at your leisure to whatever foreign trollop you’re toying with on your next so-called ‘business’ trip! This amulet was a birthday present, after all. So you may as well hand over the piece that goes with it, as you clearly have no further use for the amulet’s powers.”
Mr. Windham flinched as though Verity had slapped him. He turned around and stared out the window for a long moment. Verity was about to soften and speak again when Mr. Windham turned back to her and she saw that his eyes had become as dark and guarded as the front doors to the Hall. He s
poke in calm, dispassionate tones that made her want to hurl herself at him and wrench some form of emotion out of his mouth.
“As your guardian, it falls to me to keep your honor intact, Miss Gibbs. And so I cannot in good consciousness hand over the bangle for you to make use of at a girlish whim. It stays with me. I have apologized for any untoward behavior and I have promised to fulfill my duties as your guardian from henceforth, and other than that we have no further business between us, you and I, so I shall bid you a good day.”
He made a formal bow and strode out of the study, leaving Verity alone to collect the shattered pieces of her heart.
Chapter Five
Christopher Windham spent a long and torturous night alone in the library of Crossfox Hall. He declined to come down to dinner, sending his butler only to go fetch him a good bottle of wine from the wine cellar, which he drank the entirety of whilst poring over tome after tome hoping to find some hint as to the amulet’s provenance.
“The blasted thing was probably created by the Devil himself, just to torture good people,” he muttered as he snapped another book shut and tossed it onto the mounting pile of dead-ends. If he could only find the source of the amulet and the bangle, he might be able to work out a way to break the enchantment for good and render each nothing more than mere ornamental baubles. Then Verity could certainly keep both, for all the good they would do her.
Christopher wondered at the strength of his feelings on the subject. And he felt an utter fool, a sensation that he was otherwise more or less a stranger to. What had he been thinking? He should never have used the amulet with her in the first place.
In His Pocket: The Arcanist's Ward (Mystic Sins of the Regency Book 1) Page 2
