by D. L. Carter
“I do not care what rumors are going about,” declared Beth. “You and I both know that North could not have committed any crime. He is the star of the season! If Brummel can overcome his rumored penury and other behavior and still be acceptable, then North can as well. Besides,” she marshaled her best argument, “if we cut him the rumors will be judged as truth. We must continue to see them to protect them!”
“Beth, dear,” began Shoffer. “Your own reputation is my greatest concern.”
“Are the rumors true?” the girl demanded.
“By no means.”
“Then I shall continue to count them all as my friends.” She folded her arms, raised her chin, and glared at him.
Shoffer sighed, closing his eyes against the sight of his beautiful, caring sister with the stubborn jaw. Truth was he missed them as well. Little Maude with her curls, Mildred with her soft voice and gentle good humor, and North with his good sense hidden behind silly jokes.
“I am not saying we see them not at all, simply less. And you should take up with other young ladies as well.”
Beth put her lower lip out mulishly.
“I shall choose my own friends. In fact, they should not be banned from Almack’s. I shall go to Greylin’s party tomorrow and I shall tell Lady Jersey they should be issued vouchers.”
“I beg you would not.”
“I shall. You cannot prevent me. I am a person of some influence amongst the ton; you have taught me that yourself; and I choose to extend myself in the interests of my friends.”
Eventually, the only way Shoffer was able to prevent Beth attending the Greylin party was to claim a previous engagement and refuse to give Beth his escort.
It was the first serious fight between brother and sister and several times during the day Shoffer had wished for North’s presence, if only to tease them both out of their sulks. It was all very well for society to demand Shoffer socialize broadly, to maintain friendships from Eton through Cambridge and all the way to the grave, but North was his best friend, despite inferior birth and indifferent education. With North about, he did not need those other chatterers. He did not need to drink to all hours, to play deep at cards in order to be entertained. He could sit quietly and read, or gossip endlessly about nothing; with North on the other side of the fireplace, he was content.
Shoffer intended to spend the evening at one or another of his clubs, but he put that thought aside. He was too preoccupied with North, that much was true and while he did not entertain any licentious thoughts toward the man, it was necessary for him to find a woman tonight. Set up a mistress. Be seen behaving inappropriately with a lady. If he set those rumors aside, then he could try and find a balance, ration the time spent with North and his family, and Beth would be happy again.
Fortunately, there was a party tonight that was just the place to be seen, to be a suitably vigorous male of his rank.
While normally he spurned masquerades as beneath his dignity, it was well known to be an ideal place to find a woman with whom to behave inappropriately. On arriving at the Masque, he was grievously disappointed to discover that none of the women present pleased or attracted him. They were uniformly over perfumed, over familiar, and unappealing. The gathering was boring, the available women lacking in sensibility, and the orchestra discordant.
He tried to retreat to the smoking room only to back out rapidly. Two couples had chosen that room to … well … couple! He went out onto the patio and was considering going home when a slender woman, escaping an overly familiar dance partner, emerged in the doorway and ducked out for a breath of air.
A golden statue come to life was his first impression. The lady’s form was encased in shimmering gold silk, her breasts smoothly molded by the fabric. Her bright eyes behind the mask told him she was well aware of her charms. He smiled slightly at her to reward her with the appreciation that her bosom deserved. He shifted position so that he was no longer blocking the light behind him, permitting it to highlight the lady. She made no attempt to avoid his gaze, but continued to regard him calmly even as his eyes explored her body.
She moistened her lips, bringing his attention to their fullness, and spoke in a soft, warm contralto.
“I wonder,” she said, “have you ever wished that a celestial light would shine down when one meets the person who is one’s fate? That a chorus of angels would cry out, ‘Here! Look! This is he!’” She sighed. “It would make life so much simpler.”
Surprised to hear his own words, his own thoughts repeated to him, Shoffer stepped forward, his eyes on her mouth.
“Have I? Yes, I have. Have you ever desired from the first whisper of silk, the first touch of the hand to hold, to taste, to possess? To drown?”
Her eyes drifted closed, then opened again to regard him with a heated gaze. Her answer was a mere breath of sound and she crossed the intervening space to stand close enough that her breasts brushed his vest.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
He put one hand on her waist and took hers in the other and began to guide her in a small circle. Instead of the grand sweeping curves of the ballroom waltz, he danced her around that small section of the balcony, drawing her closer into his arms with each circuit. Finally, they were breast to chest, hip to hip, as they moved back and forth, her hand on his chest and her cheek nestled against his neck.
The hand that had been resting on her waist for the movements of the waltz slid up to the underside of her breast and his thumb brushed over the peak of her nipple. She gasped, but made no move to escape. Emboldened, he curved his other arm about her back supporting the length of her body against his. Tilting his head, he brushed his lips along and down the line of her neck. She shuddered and sighed at the feather light touch and pressed closer. He could feel her lips move first to kiss his jaw, then the corner of his mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed to take matters further.
His arms tightened around her, pulling her up to him. His mouth descended to claim, to consume. Surprised, her lips parted and he took advantage, his tongue delving in, again and again, to explore and drown in her sweetness. She was untutored in the matter of kissing, he realized, when she recoiled from the invasion of his tongue, but once instructed she opened her lips beneath his and met his sweeping touch with her own, moaning, trembling in his arms, and returned his kisses eagerly.
This was no experienced, shallow, unfaithful wife. No. Her perfume was subtle, light. The sort of fragrance preferred by the débutante crowd. Sweet, fresh, and unassuming.
He drew back to gaze down at her flushed face, her swollen lips, and half lidded eyes. She rested against him, using his solid strength to hold herself upright.
This was no idle, no wanton, bored woman seeking illicit thrills; he would stake his fortune on that. For all her enthusiasm for his caresses, his kisses, he knew from her brief hesitations that she was inexperienced in dalliance.
As an honorable man he knew he should shelter her from her own folly. Take her home, back to the protection of her family.
Even as he prepared to release her, make the speech that would put her to the blush, she rose on her toes to press another kiss to his lips and looked him directly in the eye.
“I wish to love…”
Her voice died away and she stiffened; whatever she saw in his eyes made her draw away. He tightened his grip to prevent her escape.
“Truly? Love?”
His hands firm on her buttocks, he pressed her against his growing erection. Her body tensed away for a moment, then she wrapped her own arms around his waist and held him tight. He groaned and covered her face with kisses. She tilted her face up to meet his heated gaze. His eyes were dark with passion as his hands roved freely over her curves.
“Well, no. I have no right to such expectation.” Her voice was stronger now. “However, I would wish to experience lovemaking at the hands of a skilled man.”
“I have standards, you know. If there is a husband at home, a father who will protest…”
“Do you swear it?” he pressed his lips to her forehead, even as she swore that she was alone. “If so, tomorrow, I will meet you…”
“Now!” He could feel rather than see the heat of her blush. “I am sorry to be so forward. If not tonight, then it may well never be. I leave the city in a few days…”
“Then we should not waste time,” he drew back to stare into her masked eyes. “Swear to me; I have no wish to cuckold; swear you belong to no one else.”
“Only to myself.”
Shoffer swung her in a circle, his face resting against her smooth hair. He closed his eyes and swayed with her, enjoying the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest. She would do as well as any other lady. Already, he could feel his body heating, growing heavy with need and lust.
“Come then.”
He seized her by the wrist and drew her back into the ballroom and through the dancing throng, making no attempt to conceal his departure. Indeed, given the rumors going around about him the more public a departure with a woman on his arm, the better. Halfway across the dance floor, he realized how futile that plan was while wearing a mask. As he reached the footman guarding the steps to the ballroom, he drew off his mask and handed it to the man, then turned to face the ballroom. A slight widening of eyes and indrawn breath and a rapid increase in the chatter told him he had been recognized. The host of this gathering likely would hear very soon that the Duke of Trolenfield left the party with a woman and the gossip would spread throughout the ton before dawn.
The lady herself kept the company of her mask. He released her only long enough for her to retrieve her cloak from the cloakroom. By the time she had returned, his carriage was waiting. He handed her in himself, not wishing to give up even that small touch to his footmen.
Once inside he reached past her to lower the light from the brass lanterns. His golden lady glanced toward him, then away to her hands folded in her lap. Shoffer watched a blush steal up her silken cheeks to vanish behind the mask.
“If you wish,” he said softly, “I could escort you home…”
“No,” her voice was nothing more than a breath. “I wish to be with you.”
He waited, for the first time uncertain how to begin a seduction. The lady took matters into her own hands. She slid across the seat to his side, raised his arm and pausing just long enough to gain his nod of consent, placed it about her shoulders before nestling her face into his neck. He was not certain, but it seemed that she breathed in his scent, eyes closed, before wrapping her arms about his chest. He smiled, content that she had made the first move and enjoyed her gentle embrace until the carriage lurched into motion; then he shifted her back against the squabs to kiss her.
Given the degree to which she had aroused him, initially, there was no urgency to possess. His hands did not wander, but merely pressed silk against skin, supporting her. His mouth explored hers, with slow kisses and gentle pressure. He had never consummated the sexual act in his carriage and it seemed inappropriate now. It had been so long since he had been with a woman that he was not going to be uncomfortable. A bed and soft sheets were necessary. Instead, he was content tasting the sweetness of her mouth, pressing his lips to the curve of her chin and neck, enjoying the softness. The scent.
For a moment he considered ending the interlude. Untutored kisses hinted that she had lied, that she was the wrong person for a seduction, but the scent of her warming body filled his mind and she fitted his arms so well, that the thought of setting her free melted under the pressure of rising passion.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite the lassitude that had filled her in the aftermath of their interlude on the balcony Millicent’s primary sensation was one of safety. Even as his mouth left hers to a leisurely exploration of her cheek, her throat, the upper curves of her breasts, she rested in his arms, certain of her security. This was Shoffer, honorable, wonderful Shoffer. He would care for her, even not knowing her identity. He would see to her passion, the satisfaction of her body, the realization of her secret dreams.
In the morning she would be gone, back beneath the mask of Mr. North, but tonight she was woman. Shoffer’s woman.
The jerk of the carriage halting penetrated the fog of passion. Her eyes were glazed, but she did not hesitate when he assisted her down to the footpath. Shoffer paused only long enough to dismiss the carriage.
“I shall make my own way home, John,” he said, waving away his servants before leading the way down the short path to the cottage where he usually lodged his mistresses.
He let them into the house with his own key. The housekeeper appeared just as he was guiding the woman to the staircase, but only put her head around the servant’s door long enough to confirm it was the duke and not a robber. With a deferential nod she disappeared. His lady’s quick intake of breath told him she had seen the servant and he glanced back in time to see another blush fade. Shoffer stopped and leaned down to her.
“My dear, if you but say, I shall take you home.”
Her reply was immediate. “No. I will stay.”
“This is your first time?” He did not define it further. He did not want to know if she were a virgin. Honor would require he stop at once. “No. Do not answer, I beg you.”
“Children would be a bad idea,” was her only reply.
“Trust me; I have what is needed.”
His body was one hungry ache. It was far too long since he had last enjoyed a woman and he was not going to deny himself. The woman gave him a hesitant smile and squeezed his hand. When he reached for her mask, she moved her head just out of his reach. Nodding his acceptance of her wish to remain unknown, he led her up the remaining steps and down the corridor to the bedroom.
His servants did not disappoint. The room was warm and well aired. The sheets fresh and sweet smelling. He pulled the blankets down with one rough motion and turned, expecting the woman to be cowering in the far corner. Instead he was seized about the chest as she crushed her lips to his. It took him a moment only to take control of the kiss, sinking into it, claiming her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and pressed closer and he could feel the bite of her fingers through his clothing.
Her enthusiasm was gratifying and certainly arousing. Shoffer tightened his grip on her, in case she recovered her mind and drew away. There were only a half dozen little buttons holding her bodice in place. Before she realized his intent, the buttons were slipped free of their moorings and the gold silk drawn open, exposing the breasts that had captured his attention less than an hour before.
“Oh, my dear, you are beautiful.”
He swung her up into his arms and laid her gently on the bed. His lips were like warmed velvet, brushing over the sensitized skin of her breasts. His fingers smoothed over her shoulders, her upper arms, and eased down the little cap sleeves. While she was distracted by the gentle suckling of his mouth at her breasts, he drew her dress down to her waist.
Her arms freed, Shoffer captured both hands with one of his and raised her arms over her head; with the other hand he laid siege to her body. Warm and strong his hand captured, cupped her breast, with gentle pressure he raised the nipple to near painful arousal. The touch of his tongue did not ease the ache, but sent arrows of passion to her center which flowered with moist heat and need.
A groan escaped Millicent’s lips even as her head fell back against the pillows. Shoffer accepted the invitation and moved above her, onto her, pressing her further down into the feather bed.
The pressure of the pillows on her hair pushed it forward down over her nose and the mask down over her mouth, near blinding and suffocating her. Shoffer’s hand hesitated above her head as if reluctant to remove it, fearing what he would find. Millicent grabbed for the misbehaving hair, the smothering mask to push them back into place, but her movement was too rough, too fast, and the wig tumbled back off her head.
> Shoffer was on his feet in an instant. The short, poorly cut hair, the square, open face thus revealed must be as familiar to him as his own!
“North!” he cried, “What are you doing here?”
Millicent pulled the sheet up over her body and dug in her heels until she was seated upright with her back against the headboard. Shoffer stood there, the damned wig clutched in his hand, staring at her as if she were some strange beast never before seen in England. Even as she labored to use the bedding to conceal her chest he, pulled it down to stare at her breasts, then up again at her shorn head and familiar face. Millicent pulled the sheet up, Shoffer down. Again and again he uncovered her breasts to stare at them, open-mouthed.
“Oh, stop that,” cried Millicent. “Anyone would think you had not seen breasts before.”
When Shoffer tugged on the bedsheets again, Millicent lost her temper. Boxing his ear firmly she pulled the sheets up to her chin, folded her arms across her breasts and glared at him.
“Stop that,” she commanded. “By now you should be confident that they exist. You were content with them just a moment ago when you were…” a fierce blush flooded her face, “entertaining yourself with them.”
Shoffer smiled at that and raised his eyes to meet hers.
“Oh, yes. Very entertained. And I believe you were not adverse to the activity either. But, how can this be? Who are you?”
Millicent sighed. “You mean, who am I or how can I be Mr. North or who is the woman with Mr. North’s face?”
“Either. All. Both.” Shoffer shook his head. “I understand this not at all.”
“Very well, I am Millicent Boarder,” she held out one narrow-fingered hand, “how do you do?”
