by Shirl Anders
The setter’s expressive brown eyes looked exactly as though he agreed as he sat patiently by her side. Then, a whistle sounded off in the distance and the setter immediately rose and pounced to the end of his leash. It was the setter’s Master calling him, Affinity knew, as her heartbeat quickened unaccountably. She could take the setter to him personally, it might not be stretching etiquette too far, if they were to be introduced that way for the first time. Nevertheless, she hesitated, something inside her unsure and speaking to her that this was much too important to leave to chance. She had been on the receiving end of chance for far to long now and it had not once gotten her a gentleman caller or even asked to dance. Somehow, she needed to be in more control. Perhaps, she needed to try to shape events herself?
Affinity let go of the setter’s leash, watching him bound through the trees, then the large meadow further on. She immediately started forward at a brisk walk this time and not a run as she wondered briefly at the timing of the setter’s Master calling him back. Well, to begin with, the setter providentially coming to the rescue was rather odd. The setter’s Master did not appear to be the type of man to lose his dog’s leash twice. Then, Affinity saw him, well truthfully just the outline of him in the distance as he and the setter were reunited once again. Affinity moved closer, yet not near enough to be seen, as she watched the gentleman turn to leave the park with the setter.
Affinity quickly followed at a discreet distance. She was determined to find out the gentleman’s name and rank, in this her first foray into shaping events. Yes, she really did like the sound of that, “Shaping events to her desires.”
Chapter Three
His name was Lawrence Fabier and he was a Duke. Affinity had heard little about him before. He was the Duke of St. Martin and in hushed tones people spoke of him being rather reclusive and mysterious. She had caught the topic twice being speculated on in quiet tones by a few mothers noting his marriageable eligibility and his candid absence at all the season’s events.
The aura of his mystic behavior livened her immediately, while at the same moment the title he carried of Duke served to make her feel daunted. That was surprising to her and very irritating. What? Did she believe she was not worthy enough for an exalted Duke? My-My, the difficulties of this London season and the undesirable category that they had slotted her into had taken more of a toll on her than she’d realized.
It was probably her anger then that set her onto her next course of indescribably bold action. Affinity saw what looked to be a pantry maid leaving the Duke’s well-maintained townhouse. The maid was very young and possibly on her way to the market for the cook, because she carried a basket. Affinity fell into step behind the maid. She was quite determined that she was going to bribe the Duke of St. Martin’s pantry maid for information about her employer.
Oh, and it had worked! Hours later, Affinity could not believe her brashness as she unpinned her veiled bonnet and tossed it on the bed in her bedchamber. She immediately took to pacing briskly across her room, unable to contain her excitement. It felt wondrous, this thrum of excitement. It felt as though she finally had a small piece of her life back in her hands and she was controlling it.
“Oh and I want more,” Affinity exclaimed.
She had successfully bribed the Duke of St. Martin’s pantry maid and the young woman had been a wealth of information. The pantry maid’s name was Nell and she’d seemed at once worldly for all her youthful appearance. However, Nell was not completely disloyal to her employer, there were certain things she would not discuss, such as the timing of the Duke’s comings and goings.
“It wouldn’t be proper to tell you that,” Nell had exclaimed. “But a nice lady such as yourself wanting to know if he is married, that’s another thing all together.”
So, Nell had told her that the Duke of St. Martin was not married, and they all, meaning the household staff, really thought he should be. It was here that Affinity realized that Nell, and it seemed all of the Duke’s staff, adored him. Nell spoke of the Duke with the fondness of a family member and not an employer, and Affinity instantly felt drawn closer to him in spirit. It was also revealed that, “Law,” as Affinity had secretly been calling him, did not have a mistress, nor the presence of any steady lady friends that he called upon. He was a bachelor living alone with only one elderly aunt still living, but she resided in the country.
Affinity sorely wondered what the mysterious Duke of St. Martin did with his time. However, on these subjects Nell was vague or mute and that only fueled Affinity’s curiosity. She was smart enough to realize that Nell gave out this information to a lady she perceived as interested in the Duke. In fact, Affinity considered, given Law’s apparent semi-reclusiveness, other ladies might have inquired after him in this same fashion. The thought of that left Affinity feeling slightly deflated. She did not wish to be one among many, because that had already proven unsuccessful. No, if she were to set her sights on Lawrence Fabier, the Duke of St. Martin, she would have to be much more original and aggressive.
So, she wondered, how did a woman, a creative, intelligent, and witty woman, catch a man? Certainly not the way the ladies of the ton went about it. She must think outside the normal. And Affinity wondered if the question were, could she do it, or was she brave enough to do it?
***
“The young lady’s name was, Lady Affinity Redgrift, your grace.”
Law gazed at Nell thoughtfully. “Did she have straight long hair, pulled back, yet falling to her waist? Brown hair with red highlights in the sunlight.”
“Could have been her,” Nell paused expectantly.
“Did she possess rather large-,” Law found his hands mimicking mounds on his chest and he quickly dropped them, as Nell exclaimed,
“Boobies! Yes she did, your grace, and she wore a plum-colored walking dress like the ladies wear. So you’ve met her then?”
Law nodded absently. “I have seen her.”
“Well, the young Miss, did not realize how much she told me of herself, you see. But I’m positive she was a real lady and not a prostitute pretending to be one. That one could not lie well if she tried.”
That should be the end of it, Law thought. He shouldn’t have any further reason to ask any more questions or to be curious. This Lady Affinity was not a prostitute seeking his help. He had no need to inquire further on her behalf. However, the image of her in the park had not left his thoughts.
That was odd.
He’d barely been able to see her, veiled as she was, only her long hair and the constrained outline of those breasts. He remembered thinking upon seeing the shape of those healthy mounds that they were certainly held back by a corset or such and they would be that much larger if freed. The thought had not startled him overly, because he had fleeting lustful thoughts most days. He would catch sight of something that would strike him, then set his mind turning. A ripe peach in the marketplace, a glimpse of a lady’s bare ankle as she stepped up into her coach, or a mare that was sleek and sweating after a long gallop.
But Lady Affinity had asked after him . . . And she was not a prostitute. “I would not care for her to find out my secret profession, Nell.”
“Oh, I would never tell, your grace. You know that.”
“I could not do what I do, if they found out . . . you understand?”
“I only told her that you weren’t married.”
“She asked such a thing?” Law was immediately surprised, even as he wondered, just what it was he thought she’d asked Nell then. Ladies, he’d assumed, did not really ask after gentlemen, except in social circles.
“Yes, it was her first question, your grace.”
He really should let this go. “And her second question, Nell?”
“Did ye have a mistress or a lady friend?”
Law swiveled in his study chair to look directly at Nell, because he’d been gazing out the windows into the gardens at the rear of his property.
“Aye, your grace, interesting isn’t it,” N
ell pronounced with a gregarious smile that showed a few missing teeth.
That was an understatement, Law thought. A lady asking intimate questions about him was singularly unique. He strictly stayed out of social gatherings just because of his glaring marriage eligibility. His mission in life was not to find a wife. He knew to well he did not deserve that. However, he could not help longing for the touch of a woman and he wondered if he was damned from ever having the pleasure again. So Lady Affinity’s curiosity and interest excited him slightly and he took his pleasures, small as they were, wherever he could savor them.
He’d been out of touch too long and he had not realized that young ladies had become so emboldened. Of course with what he now knew about womens natures, he should not be at all surprised. He’d long pondered that some ladies must have the feelings of a prostitute beneath their soft veneers, and that was either his long-felt and foolish hope . . . or possibly a truth.
“If she should approach you again, Nell, please tell her that you have spoken to me, out of your undying loyalty.”
Nell snorted, bobbing her short black hair. “Undying loyalty is it, Gov’? I would go to hell for you.”
“Well then say that,” Law replied quietly. “And I would for you also, Nell.”
“Yer bating her, I see!” Nell grinned. “Oh I like that, yer grace.”
Chapter Four
Affinity nibbled at her bottom lip and her one crooked front tooth made the effort more rewarding, and she supposed because of it that she did it more often than most. She knew that she did it especially industriously when she was worried or anxious as she was now.
It was eight o’clock in the evening and dark outside. A moonless night that she’d specifically picked for the absence of the moon. Aunt Fuchsia had long since gone to bed after hearing Affinity was not feeling well and would be spending the evening in her room. A small white lie, Affinity thought, looking at her attire in the full length mirror once more. It was an odd menagerie of clothing that she’d managed to piece together.
She wore brown twill breeches. They were the darkest color she could find, when she’d rummaged through her uncle’s old clothing in the attic. They were surely from his younger days, being slimmer now than his portly weight. However, she still had to take them in considerably, and the buttoned up, square-pocketed, front of the breeches were unique to her. Of course, she had seen them before, but certainly never had them on to see them work. It made that unique place between a man’s legs seem that much more mysterious, and it made her feel strangely heated to know that a few buttons undone in the front and her sex would be exposed.
Of course she’d seen a male organ twice in her life. One time when her uncle had been ill and circumstances left her, in one instant, the only one available at the precisely urgent moment to help him. It had been a fleeting glimpse and it had shocked her. She’d been a young girl then, nearly the age of fifteen, and when she’d imagined such things, somehow they were vaguely majestic and commanding. Certainly not withered and red looking. Up until that time she had no idea of the size, shape, position, or the condition of that area between a man’s legs. She was quite disappointed, but that was until she’d seen Bartley, who was the Redgrift’s head groom. She’d been innocently passing by the stables in her seventeenth year, when a swatch of color had caught her eye through a wider slat on the side of the stable building. Immediately curious that she could see it, she’d stopped and leaned forward to peek. That was when she had seen Bartley pissing in the hay or more precisely she’d seen his organ, a long healthy pink-skinned organ. What a revelation that had been to enliven her.
Since that day and through many whispered conversations with her best of friends Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity, she had a vague understanding of the look and function of the male organ, this pocketed front concealed in a man’s breeches. She was certain that most of the function they imagined was vastly fanciful, gleaned from bits and pieces the girls had been able to pick up along the way. They would take these bits of information, not enough to obtain a truly clear picture, and they would twist them around in their talks, until they seemed to fit logically. Of course, that meant it really was only fictional imagery. It was sad that such sexual things were kept so secret. Of course, it also fueled their desires to know the truth of it.
All of them had learned the art of touching themselves to climatic conclusion. Never together of course, but they’d spoken about it as true friends do when revealing secrets. They spoke, giggling of stroking between their legs to relieve the insistent aches that built there upon odd occasions. Such as the one that was beginning to happen between her thighs now, Affinity thought, looking at the dark woolen sweater she wore.
She could not wear a corset with this attire and it left her breasts free flowing beneath a light chemise and the sweater. She could feel the wool grazing her nipple tips with each shift of her body, and she was surprised, but had to admit wearing the outfit alone was arousing her.
“Of course, it cannot be that I intend to sneak into Law’s home,” Affinity declared as she grabbed her veiled bonnet and stuffed it on top of her head. It did not fit well because she had piled her hair in a large bun on the top of her head. The bonnet and veil also looked quite ridiculous with the rest of her clandestine outfit. However, she felt the need to be masked and this was the best she could come up with.
Affinity assured herself that the entire objective was that no one was to see her, so it mattered little what she actually looked like. She was even going so far as to walk to Law’s home, rather than hiring a hackney. She would stealthily keep to the alleyways and the shadows. So, she picked up the last bit of her furtive costume, a small black billy club that she had found in the attic. She could not go out alone through the back alleys without protection.
This week, she had watched Law’s home nearly every day until as late in the evening as she could manage. What she’d learned was that none of his servants stayed in residence overnight, which was very odd. But she’d also learned today quite by chance of overhearing Law’s groom say that the carriage needed to be brought out because his grace was going out to a boxing event.
Affinity had quickly left then to check the times of this boxing event. Luckily there was only one boxing match that it could be and that left the field open if she was brave enough to raise the game she wanted to play higher.
Really, curiosity drove her commonsense in this matter entirely astray. She’d already admitted to herself that she had a complete and overblown crush on the Duke of St. Martin. She had never experienced one before and it was quite breathtaking. Brevity had once had a crush over a mature and refined school master at Lady Whitmore’s Academy for Young Ladies. The crush had been quite dramatic and Affinity now understood why. The feelings inside her had no real logic to them. They were simply bold and nearly overpowering. They created this momentous desire inside her to discover more about the object of her affection.
But she was not doing this completely because of her amorous urges. She had a plan. The infancy of a plan at least. She would learn all that she could about Law, in the process making certain he was worthy of her amorous intent, and then she would use that knowledge to entice Law’s mind and his soul. She would be all that he desired. In fact, she would seduce him if that were possible.
So determinedly, Affinity managed to make good time and was not seen as she made her way to Law’s home some five blocks away. She approached his townhouse from the rear, having to physically climb a stone wall to do so. It was quite an event for her, and she resolved that she was physically weak for all the effort it cost her. Luckily, the stone wall had shifted and become uneven over time, allowing her to find handholds and footholds to lift herself and draw her cumbersome body over the top.
She resolved, as she sat atop the stone fence, puffing hard breaths, that she was immediately going to start a physical regiment to overcome this irritating weakness. “Women just sit on their posteriors too long,” she muttered, looking fo
r a way to lower herself down the inside of the stone wall.
What she spied was the low hanging branch of a tree next to the wall. So very daring, she used this with a small leap and managed to catch the branch in her hands, which dangled her feet closer to the ground below. Then, she let go and it was only a short distance to land on her feet. She smiled vividly, realizing how brave and determined she was in her goal. It felt glorious to take charge, and the humming of excitement filling her body was like an aphrodisiac.
Carefully and silently, Affinity picked her way through the garden to the back of Law’s townhouse. There were a few lights burning, yet they appeared dim and they did not overly worry her because many people left a few lights on for their return. Now came the tricky part. How to get inside? She had thought this over and, as of yet, had not come up with many good answers. She could only hope that some part of the townhouse had been left open.
So with this hope, she began to systemically try every window and door as quietly as she could. She was down on her hands and knees trying a lowercase window outside what appeared to be Law’s study, when suddenly a face loomed before her on the other side of the window pane. Affinity yelped, rearing back and clamping a hand over her mouth to contain any further sounds, with her gaze leaping from a short distance unfocused, to a longer distance focused.
“Beauty,” she whispered through her fingers, looking at Law’s russet setter gazing back at her eagerly through the window pane. “Oh, shush, shush,” she added quickly, hoping he would not bark at her.
But Beauty just sat there gazing at her hopefully with his tail wagging. Still, he looked as though he could start barking at her at any moment, so she backed away slowly. It would be better to try the other rooms’ windows where Beauty was not perched, she decided as she moved back into the shadows. Next, she tried the dining room windows and she was standing on her tiptoes, industriously intent on a side window, when something poked her on her bottom.
