“And as for what is going on, I have had it with your husband, to put it bluntly. He owes me quite a sum of money.”
“My husband?” Clara said vacantly. “He owes you money for supplies?”
“No.”
It took but a moment for the information to sink in. “My husband would never go to a brothel.”
Mr. Bridgers said nothing.
Clara stared at him. “No,” she said hoarsely, shaking her head.
“I will tell you one thing, my lady. Over the last year the general has never come to the house on a Wednesday.”
Her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, God!”
“I’m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this,” he said, genuinely apologetic. He drew in a long breath. “One of my girls has certain specialties which General Strathmore enjoys. She’s my best girl.”
“What do you mean by ‘specialties’?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“She’s very good at oral copulation and enjoys participating in erotic flogging.”
She gaped as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Pardon?”
The color rose in his cheeks. “Uh, she pleasures his prick with her mouth until he spends his seed. After that he is aroused again by controlling her. Usually she is tied up and he whips her.”
Such a thing sounded preposterous. “No,” she said, her voice a whisper. “That can’t possibly be.”
“I regret to tell you it is true. Several days ago, he came in with four other officers, two colonels and two Hessians. They wanted Constance—that’s her name—they wanted her services. After they left she was barely alive.” He cleared his throat. “My lady, your husband not only owes me a thousand guineas for our services here, he almost killed my best girl. He is a rake, a scoundrel, a liar, and a cheat, and I intend to disabuse him of the notion that he can continue to treat others in such a horrendous manner.”
The room spun slightly as she tried to comprehend all that she had heard, suddenly remembering Annabella’s confession that morning of her fears regarding the Hessian driver. The general was a blackguard and, it seemed, surrounded himself with the same. “He cares naught for me, you know.”
“Yes, my lady, I do know that,” he concurred. “It is unfortunate and, for that, he does not deserve you. However, he does care about the child you carry.”
“Yes, of course,” she said sullenly.
“In a few days Redmond will release Annabella with a ransom note. Ethan—my boy-of-all-work Ethan Pitt was the driver in this whole affair—will leave her somewhere near Chesterton. Annabella will not be told that I am behind the scheme, nor will she know where she has been kept. If Strathmore tortures her she can reveal nothing.”
“Torture! My husband would not torture her!” she blurted.
“Pardon me, my lady, but you do not know what General Strathmore is capable of.”
Apparently Clara did not know anything about her husband, and it was beginning to sound like she was better off being the captive of Mr. Bridgers. Yet, something did not seem right about the plan. “But if my husband comes here as frequently as you say he does, might he not appear unexpectedly?”
Mr. Bridgers nodded. “I’ve sent word out that we have shut down for some renovation work needed before the snows come. We’ve done that before, so it will not seem so unusual.”
The fire popped and crackled against the stillness of the night.
“The house looked empty. Are the—” what did one call them? “—girls there now?” Clara flushed just saying the word.
He inhaled deeply. “I’ve got a friend with a house farther up the Hudson River. They’ve been sent there and they’ll all continue to work. Except for Constance. She’ll be well-looked after, though.” He leaned on the mantel and stared into the fire.
“And Redmond? What is his part in this plan?”
“He came here looking for work last week sometime. He also holds quite a grudge against the general.” He quickly glanced in her direction, then returned to contemplating the flames. “Your husband has been abusing Annabella.”
“Oh, God.” She knew she had married a brute, but that was unconscionable. She sank farther in her chair. Her back complained.
“That Hessian, your driver, he was involved in the abuse.” He caught her eye. “Perhaps you can see it was easy for Redmond to kill the man.”
The web of plots and plans, of deceit and violence, was terribly unsettling. Could she trust Mr. Bridgers? She had to. She couldn’t trust her husband, as if she ever did. The room stopped spinning but instead grew warm, too warm, flushing her skin with prickling heat. She was still wearing her heavy cloak. “Mr. Bridgers,” she said quietly, “are we to stay here? Will there be more traveling? May I remove my cloak?”
Mr. Bridgers started. “Oh, my lady, I am sorry. Yes, please.”
She shook out her cloak and went to hang it next to his.
“And you must be half-starved.” He went to a cupboard on the wall opposite the hearth, the wall containing the bed. “We have a meat pie already baked for tonight,” he said over his shoulder. “I hope you don’t—”
He did not finish his sentence. He stared at her with a noticeably panicked expression.
“Mr. Bridgers?”
He ran to her and took her hands. “My lady … your gown … there’s blood.”
Clara grabbed her skirts and twisted around to look. Near her buttocks and thighs against the bright yellow of the silk was a large red stain, the edges dried brown. It was much worse than the spots she had seen that morning. “Oh, God!”
She fell to her knees.
* * * * *
“Lady Strathmore,” Paul said, gently shaking her by the arms.
She did not respond. She wobbled on her knees as she clutched at her skirt.
“Lady Strathmore,” he tried again. “My lady … look at me, please.” He cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him. “I fear you are losing your child.”
She sank down farther, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, God, no, no, no.”
Paul glanced around the room frantically. He usually kept supplies in every room in order to presuppose his clients’ every need. There must be towels. Yes … the lower cupboard to the left of the hearth … near the door … easy to replenish.
He grabbed the towels from the cupboard, went to the bed, and flung back the covers. He laid the towels on the bed three thick and doubled. He turned toward Lady Strathmore. She would have to get out of her clothes. Into a nightdress, maybe. No. Better to have her remain in her already soiled shift. Christ! He hadn’t thought this far ahead.
She’s not one of the whores. She is simply not going to do this in my presence.
He knelt down beside her. “Lady Strathmore, I need you to listen to me. I am going to turn my back while I make you a tea—a tea to relieve your pain—and I need you to—” Paul inhaled deeply “—I need you to take off your clothes, I mean only to your shift. You have another, do you not?”
She roused herself. “Yes, yes. In my box.” She took his arm as he helped her stand.
They stood for a moment facing each other, her forehead furrowed with anxiety or fear. Probably both.
“I’ll need help with my stays,” she said.
“I’ll unlace them. I’ve done it before.” The second he said it, Paul cringed. He quickly went to the cupboards near the hearth, searching the stock of herbs for the right remedies, pulling down the needed jars, gathering cups and spoons, mumbling the ingredients. The sounds of her undressing were unusually loud, and he tried to make as much noise as possible. He checked the kettle. The water was boiling, so he swung the pot out, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, splashing a bit on the brick floor.
“I need your help now.”
Her voice was plaintive, her need for him arousing. Paul tamped down his desires and turned slowly. Her back was to him. She had stripped to her under-petticoat. If she hadn’t been still half-dressed as such, Paul was not su
re what he would have done. He unlaced her stays, trying desperately to keep his trembling hands from touching her body. The temptation was driving him insane.
“All finished, my lady,” he said with an unexpected sultry tone. The words did not come out as he intended.
“Thank you,” was all she said.
“When you are ready, my lady, please lie on the bed over the towels and draw up the covers.” He turned his back to her once again to attend to the teas.
He prepared three tonics: willow bark to relieve cramps, valerian to do the same and help her sleep, and bitter wormwood with honey to quicken the release of the fetus. He knew the recipes for relief by heart. How many times had he done this for his girls? Relief for menstrual cramps was to be expected, but too many of the girls lost count of their days, or forgot to take carota seeds after intercourse, or forgot to use a pessary. Too many times Paul had had to end an unplanned pregnancy.
One by one he brought the brews to Lady Strathmore, making sure she had a bit of meat pie between each drink. She might experience a slight fever, he told her. Eventually, she fell asleep amidst tears and sweat. Paul stripped off his jacket and shoes and climbed into bed with her, pulling her to him but unsure for whose comfort the tender act was meant to be.
Chapter Six
“I should be so mad at you.” Redmond paced the length of the second-floor bedroom, his arms tight at his sides, hands balled into fists, restraining the urge to hit something, anything.
“Redmond, love, please understand, I had to do it. They might have hurt you more if I hadn’t given in.” Annabella sat on the edge of the bed wringing her hands. “They could have killed you,” she said hoarsely.
He had spent the better part of the week cursing her, wanting to punish her, playing out scenarios in his head. Exerting his control over her in the coach only served to rile him up. She had given in far too easily to a man who, at the time, was a stranger to her. And now, after she had attempted a tender reunion, they had spent the last half hour arguing about her conduct with the general and the Hessian officers.
He was starving. He couldn’t continue arguing with her on an empty stomach. Besides, finally alone with her, the very first time without the risk of someone walking in on them, he simply could not stay mad at her.
And that just made him mad at himself.
He leaned against the mantel and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “Christ, Annabella. What should I think?”
She stroked his back tentatively. “That I love you. That I would do anything for you.”
He softened at her caress.
“Redmond, sweet, I have been sick with worry for the last week. And now you’re here with me. Please forgive whatever it is I have done. I just want to be with you right now.”
His stomach rumbled.
She giggled. “I’m hungry, too. Is there anything to eat?”
“We stocked food in an old kitchen downstairs.” He turned to face her. She looked up at him, earnestness mixed with trepidation. He lifted her chin and pecked her lips. “C’mon.”
They had never shared a meal together, and the simple act of eating cold pies and cider inspired talk of living a normal life as man and wife. She flirted and giggled and made him laugh, and he quickly forgot his anger. But he could not forget why they were there in the first place. She didn’t ask. She probably thought she had been kidnapped just to be with him.
Annabella pushed back from the table and gazed at him with a tilt of her head and a raised brow. “Redmond,” she said, licking her lips. “We’ve never been alone like this before. Shouldn’t we make the most of it?”
She was right, and anything he had to say to her could wait for morning. He smiled a devious smile. “Let’s go back upstairs,” he said, taking her hand.
The fire had died in the bedroom, but it was still cozy. He threw another log on the grate and pulled up an old wingback by the hearth. He sat down.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.
Annabella hesitated and shot him a questioning look.
“Perhaps you did not hear the first time,” he growled. “Take off your clothes, woman.”
She sucked in a lip and proceeded to untie her kerchief, then pulled it off languidly, holding his gaze until his eyes dipped to her bared cleavage.
He swallowed hard, waiting for the next bit of clothing to come off.
But she stood there with a smirk, rebelling against his imperious tone.
Shit. His cock stirred. He would have to let her have her little game. He toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat.
It worked.
She began to untie the laces of her short fitted jacket, and with each tug, he freed one of his own fastenings. She slowed her pace and he stopped. Her garment was far more complicated. He couldn’t let her win.
Her jacket undone, Annabella turned her back to him. She lifted the jacket over her head, then twisted to look over her shoulder. His waistcoat was now completely unbuttoned, and he gripped the arms of the chair to keep himself from molesting the little minx.
She smiled and turned back to face him, clutching her jacket to her chest. Slowly, she pulled the garment away from her body, then dangled it out in front of her before dropping it on the floor.
Redmond licked his lips and stared at the tops of her breasts, billowing out from beneath her stays, yet still covered by her shift. She smiled provocatively as her hands went behind her to worry the button at the waistband of her quilted over-petticoat. He locked her gaze with his as he unfastened the three buttons at the waistband of his breeches, and when she pushed her heavy skirt over her hips and down to the floor, he proceeded to the buttons of his fall front.
She stepped out of her skirt and kicked the garment along the wooden boards.
She drew her hands from the top of her stays down the front of her body to land at the waist of her woolen under-petticoat. She grasped the linen tie. Redmond readied his fingers at the buttons of his drawers, then hesitated. He lifted a brow at her. She would have to go first.
She scowled, then pulled the end of the bow and untied the string. With a sway in her hips, she shuffled the garment down, then once again stepped out and pushed the skirt across the floor.
She didn’t have much else to take off. Behind her, the firelight danced, leaving the front in shadow. His cock complained.
She loosened the top of her shift, exposing a little bit more of her pale fleshy bosom. She strolled seductively over to him.
He stared up at her as she nudged open his thighs to stand between his legs. She lifted her left foot onto the worn padded arm of his chair. Redmond reached out to touch her leg, now so close within his grasp. She stilled his hand, then smiled as he instead freed his erect cock from his drawers and began stroking himself lazily.
Annabella unbuckled her shoe and returned her foot to the floor, then switched legs to unbuckle the other. She stepped backwards and slipped off both shoes, wiggling her stocking-covered toes.
Once again she turned her back to him and reached around to unlace her stays, untying and then loosening the strings at a maddeningly slow pace. She pulled the stiff garment over her head and held it out at arm’s length before dropping it to the floor. It made a soft thud when it landed.
Redmond had never seen her in such a state of undress. The flickering light cast by the fire and candles cast shadows across her body, concealing and revealing her form under the sheer cotton shift. She swayed her hips in a soft undulating movement while languorously gathering up the fabric along her sides as if she were going to lift the final piece of clothing off her body. It took every ounce of self-control to remain seated and not throw her to the floor and slam inside her cunt.
She let go of her shift and looked back at him, biting her lower lip.
“You’re a saucy one, aren’t you?” he said. “You’re the devil’s mistress. Come here.” He motioned for her to resume her position between his legs.
“No, love,” she said as she s
auntered over to him. “I’m your woman.” She looked down at him, beaming. “Yours.”
He reached up and untied the strings at her sleeves and loosened the openings, tickling the skin of her arms. He pulled the drawstring at her neckline, untying the bow. He took a sleeve in each of his hands and tugged the shift off one shoulder, then the other. With a final yank the filmy garment fell to the floor and pooled at her feet.
His eyes drifted up and down her body, taking in every soft curve. “Damnation,” he whispered reverently. “You’re a sight to behold.”
Her generous white bosoms capped by tender rosy peaks jutted forth buoyantly as if floating on air. Redmond cupped a hand on the side of each breast, taking time to brush his thumbs against her aroused nipples as he weighed the demi-globes in his palms. He traced his hands down her figure, curving in where her body nipped in a little at the waist, then out at the swelling of her belly. He stopped at her fleshy hips, caressed them gently, then glided around to grab her plump buttocks. He kneaded the luscious pillowy cheeks before drawing his hands down the backs of her thighs, eliciting a sighing mewl. He stopped at her garters and fumbled to untie them. “I want to see all of you,” he said, pushing down her stockings.
Annabella stepped back slightly and one by one stripped off the last of her clothing, revealing her shapely calves. She now stood before him utterly nude. He gawked, stunned, and grabbed his erection. With a glimmer of wickedness in her eyes, she posed this way and that, her hands playfully hiding bits of flesh or presenting her attributes for his approval. Redmond laughed in delight while stroking his engorged prick.
“Come to me. Be with me.” He held out a hand.
Annabella touched his fingers before kneeling down between his legs. Her hands rubbed his thighs, still confined in tight breeches, and reached around underneath to cup his buttocks. She dipped her head and licked his cock teasingly before gently taking him into her mouth.
Redmond groaned. “Oh, God, woman.” He reveled in the familiar feeling, heightening it by stroking her nude shoulders and back. He pushed his hips against her mouth. She quickened her pace. He was in heaven, he was…
The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale Page 6
