by D. L. Carter
From the terrace, they descended into the garden, choosing a path that was better lit than the others. The deeper dark of the garden was reserved for lovers. Eventually, Millicent stopped where a set of stone chairs were arranged about a fountain and chose the one that looked like a throne for herself, permitting the other two men to arrange themselves as they saw fit. Wentworth remained seated for a heartbeat only. He leapt back to his feet and began pacing. Shoffer and Millicent watched him without sympathy.
Eventually, Wentworth could endure the silence no longer.
“Has Maude any other relatives?” he demanded.
“Besides me? Beside her mother and sisters?” Millicent leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “Interesting. Why would you concern yourself with Miss Maude Boarder’s family?”
Wentworth closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “Indulge me, please. Has she any elderly aunts or such that would be willing to state they have included her in their wills? Some grandparent or uncle of good estate near to death?”
Millicent and Shoffer exchanged appalled glances.
“No. Not a single solitary soul,” said Millicent.
“Are you certain? Think again!”
Millicent regarded him solemnly. “I should be expected to know my family tree. Frankly, in this generation it is more like a twig, a walking stick than a tree. Think of something with very, very few branches and even fewer of them with funds.”
With an agonized cry, Wentworth sank onto a bench, his head in his hands. Shoffer and Millicent exchanged a long, steady glance.
“Is he ill, do you think?” asked Millicent.
“We can only hope.”
Wentworth shook himself and sat up. “Please understand my distress. I have only one hope, that Maude did not know the extent of her finances. But it seems what she told me was the complete truth.” Wentworth turned eyes as wet and watery as uncooked egg on Millicent. “A mere five thousand in the Exchange? Perhaps she misunderstood and it is five thousand per annum?”
“You impudent pup,” cried Shoffer coming to his feet. “Is this how you approach a gentleman about his cousin’s dowry? About settlements? How dare you…”
“Peace, Shoffer,” Millicent rose and stopped Shoffer in his tracks by placing one hand on his solid chest. Her fingers tingled with the remembered pleasure of the previous night. For a moment she could not remember where she was or what she had been about to say, but could only stare at her lover. Shoffer caught her distraction and grinned at her. Then they both shook themselves and turned to face a pale Wentworth, who fortunately noticed nothing amiss.
“I am so very sorry, Mr. North,” said Wentworth. “Not for anything would I lose your good opinion. I spoke to my father about Maude and he demanded that I get reliable information about the extent of your estate and responsibilities. I tried to assure him that you held your cousins in high esteem and would provide for them when they married, but he said you were still young and could marry yourself and would, of necessity, keep all your wealth to impress your wife’s family. My only hope was there was another relative who could write a letter to my father and assure him that Maude was an heiress.”
“And I thought I was the oddest fellow in London,” said Millicent. “Here is a man who seems to be well ahead of himself. He is imagining that he will receive money from me and my hypothetical family. I am at a loss to think as to why I should do this.”
“Oh. I thought you understood. It is only because of her paltry dowry that I have not yet offered for Maude.”
“Miss Boarder to you!” Millicent shot a burning look at Shoffer. “You are closer; you hit him!”
Shoffer reached out and slapped a hand over the back of Wentworth’s skull. The youth paled at the insult implied by the location of the blow. Obviously, Shoffer considered him unworthy of a blow to the face.
“You insolent little pup,” said Millicent mildly, while Wentworth clutched at his head. “You have never entered my home to chat with the ladies when they are at-home. You have never called to take Maude riding in the park, nor appeared at her side at any public venue except for the duration of a dance. In short, you have never performed any of the usual courtship courtesies. And now you are here whimpering that the girl is too poor for your consideration! Am I supposed to cry ‘Oh, I must increase her portion so that this idiot, this beggar, this weak and pitiable example of a wastrel will find her worthy of receiving his hand?’ Do you know, I do not believe that will happen.”
“It is my father that insists that the girl I marry have a certain amount of the ready,” cried Wentworth.
This time Shoffer did not wait for Millicent’s command and again slapped the youth, this time over the ears. The contempt in that gesture as well as the stinging pain brought tears to the boy’s eyes.
“I say, Shoffer. That is uncalled for,” said Wentworth.
“What? Are you going to take offense? Are you going to call me out?” Shoffer stepped closer and glared down at the younger man, who cringed away. “I thought not. Go away you pitiful excuse of a gentleman.”
“And stay away from Miss Boarder!” added Millicent, as Wentworth scuttled away.
Millicent waited until the boy was out of sight before giggling.
“Silly fool.”
“You best be careful,” warned Shoffer. “If he approaches Maude as a wounded and rejected suitor, he may persuade her to improper behavior in the hope that after marriage he might be able to compel more funds from you. Or compromise her and threaten not to do the right thing in order to blackmail you.”
“Maude is no fool.”
“My dear North, London is filled with families who believed that their daughters had more sense than to be taken in, and found to their regret that young girls quickly forget their lessons when faced with poetic eyes and soulful glances.”
“Really?” said Millicent, looking at him over her shoulder. “Then I should warn all the women of my family to beware any man who seeks to persuade them to do something their good sense advises they should not.”
Shoffer snorted. “I do not mean you and me.”
“I suppose not,” said Millicent with a laugh, then she sighed and stared up along the garden path. “Poor Maude, she liked him, even when she did not want to.”
“She shall do better. They both will. A gentleman will come who will value them for their many talents and good sense.”
“Ah. Perhaps I should warn you. A certain gentleman has taken an interest in Mildred.”
Shoffer’s eyebrows winged up. “Oh? Why do I need to be warned?”
“Mr. Simpson has been visiting my house quite often since Mildred has asked his aid in arranging her first ton event.”
“So? That means nothing. I asked him to keep himself available should your family have need of him.”
“He is spending his free hours in my front parlor choosing table linens and discussing flower arrangements for a tea party,” said Millicent with a smirk.
“Oh, by God,” cried Shoffer, clutching at his heart. “The man is sunk.”
“Exactly my thought.”
They stood staring at each other, then both burst into shared laughter at the fall of another bachelor. The laughter faded, but their gazes held.
“Millicent,” whispered Shoffer and took a step toward her.
“Ah. Ha ha!” Millicent retreated, waving a finger at him. “No. No. No. Do not use that name!”
Shoffer’s eyes darkened and his gaze settled first on her lips, then traveled down her form. There were no curves to admire, but his memory of what was hidden under the layers of cloth was excellent and warmed his blood.
“I beg you; come, spend the night with me.”
“We cannot,” cried Millicent.
“Please. Do you not desire me? Last night did we not all the passions prove?”
“Do all your family come over Shakespearian when crossed?”
“Please, the quote is Mallory, not Shakespeare,” said Shoffer and
he smiled, a slow curving of the lip revealing a hint of perfect teeth. A predator’s confident smile.
Millicent could feel her legs weakening and heat pooling in her loins; she could barely force herself to continue backing away. She desired him too much. One taste of the forbidden fruit only had increased her hunger.
“How? And where?” she cried. “We cannot go to your mistresses’ place. Two men arriving late at night? The story would be around London before dawn. There is no place for us to go to be together. How could we do it? I cannot change clothing in your carriage, your footmen would notice. I cannot bring you to my home, my family would know. Stop that. You are not listening to me.”
Shoffer smiled, ignored her words and continued walking and Millicent continued to back away, not noticing that the section of the garden they were in grew darker and was enclosed by high hedges. Shoffer moved closer, his arms outstretched. Millicent shook her head and tried to dodge only to find herself blocked on every side.
“We cannot,” she protested even as Shoffer laid siege upon her lips, dragging his hands over her body.
Masculine clothing was no barrier to his exploration. Her shirt was unbuttoned in a trice and his teeth seized and tormented her nipples until she writhed and bit her own lip to keep in her cries. His hand caught and cupped her buttocks, kneading and squeezing even as he lifted her up onto the base of a statue. The falls of her trousers were undone to permit the invasion of his fingers. Even as she melted under his assault, he drew down her trews to her ankles, parted her thighs and plunged.
“You cannot. You cannot,” she gasped, even as her hot, velvet canal clenched about his shaft.
“I beg you,” Shoffer slowed his movements with a groan, and pressed his face against her neck. “I need you.”
“No children.”
The relief that swept through him almost brought him to pleasure at that moment.
“Trust me,” he gasped and thrust anew.
Millicent clung to him, arms, legs holding him tight in her embrace as her head fell back. She could not move with him, trapped as she was between statue and solid man. She could only endure the rising heat, the burning pressure as he filled and retreated. She could not escape the pleasure when it came, but trembled helplessly as it tore through her body. She barely noticed that Shoffer withdrew from her with a curse to spend himself upon the ground.
They stayed together as their breathing slowed. Millicent was the first to move, pushing Shoffer’s face away from his resting place on her neck.
“You have quite destroyed my cravat,” she complained.
Shoffer laughed and kissed her. “Who would be able to tell?”
“Brummel,” was the reply and he laughed.
They separated and made use of a small fountain nearby to cleanse themselves.
“We cannot do this again,” declared Millicent as she straightened her clothing. Shoffer merely nodded. “I am serious. We have been gone from the party too long and suspicions will be aroused. Whatever happened to not living in each other’s pockets?”
“We shall return to the party separately the better to preserve your reputation.” Shoffer saw Millicent’s hand go up and dodged back out of range. “You should be more careful, my dear North. Slap anyone other than me and it might be misunderstood as a challenge.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment, not lowering her hand. “Shall we have trouble with Wentworth?”
“That pup? Challenging either of us? No, that will not happen. He has not the courage!”
“I shall watch for him in any event.” Millicent finished buttoning up the falls of her trousers. “You should go in first.”
“Oh, no. I shall not leave you alone in this darkness. Who knows what might befall you. You go in. I shall watch to see that you are safe.”
“What? Some lecher will fall on me from the shadows and have his way with me? That terrible event has already befallen.” Millicent shook her head. “You will have to stop being so protective, Shoffer; someone will notice. In any event, you will not be able to watch over me after next week. I shall be gone.”
Shoffer pressed her up against the tree in an instant, trapped between the implacable strength of his body and the rough bark.
“No, you will not.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Stay. Stay with me.”
“I cannot. You know I cannot.” But she clung to him, relishing the heat of his body.
“We could spend the summer together,” continued Shoffer. “I have properties that could benefit from a visit. I should not trust my secretary and business manager with everything. We could travel together. Alternate one of your properties with one of mine. Spend every day and night together until we have burned out this need.”
“Simpson might be busy with other matters next year and appreciate the respite,” Millicent murmured into his neck cloth. “But we cannot any more than we could be together here. Do you think staff in country inns gossip less than London servants?”
“There must be a way.”
Millicent only shook her head.
“You could visit my house,” suggested Shoffer. “We have spent hours together in the library without comment.”
“With your sister in the house? Visitors and servants in and out at all hours? No. It will not do.”
“Damn it, North, the season has only a few more weeks to run. There must be a way.”
“We could visit your mistresses’ house…”
“Two men going to a house of assignation where no woman resides? You are correct. I do not pay the staff there enough to keep that secret.”
“Then we are back to my first assertion. It is not possible.”
“And, yet, I am unwilling to end this liaison before I am sated.”
Millicent drew back and regarded him calmly. “How romantic.”
She could almost hear his teeth grinding.
“Damn it, North, you know what I mean. We have been together one night only. This does not count! You cannot say that I have exhausted your desire for me any more than I have tired of you. If we could but find time this season, we might wear out this need and return to being friends.”
Millicent swallowed her shock and found herself speechless. Lack of romance was one thing she must accept. After all, she could not expect flowers and poetry when attired as a gentleman, but to baldly state his expectation that passion would fade quickly took her breath away.
“I suppose,” she said when she could form words, “I should be grateful that you envision us remaining friends. You will have considerable power over me once this affaire is over.”
“Oh, North, give over. We were friends long before we were lovers. If we are careful and do not quarrel too much, I do not see us enduring some terrible rupture. Besides, Beth would not permit me to cut you when the rumors of your perversion went about; she is unlikely to give up your friendship for any lesser reason.”
“Perversion,” repeated Millicent and dropped her hand down to seize and squeeze his buttocks. “The perversion was not mine alone.”
He laughed, released her, and stepped back.
“We should return to the party. For now, North, we should give serious thought to solving the problem rather than protesting impossibilities. You have more experience in deception than me; therefore, I have great faith in your inventiveness.”
“As Your Grace commands.”
Chapter Seventeen
“What are your plans for the day, Beth?”
The breakfast room at Trolenfield house was grey and dreary, despite the bright colored wallpaper. A dismal driving spring rain rattled the tall windows, necessitating the lighting of lamps despite the early hour. Beth was not usually up before noon, but today she was neatly attired in a warm walking dress and tucking into her food with determination.
“I am assisting Mildred’s cause,” said Beth. “Today, I shall go to as many at-homes as I can and tell everyone that we both shall be attending her afternoon tea. Whether it rains or not!”
“My apologies. Why must you do this?”
“Mildred’s invitations have been out for two weeks and she has yet to receive a single acceptance, beyond ours that is. I suppose she is not considered high enough ranked for her invitations to be coveted.”
Two weeks. Shoffer suppressed a groan. Two weeks of the season fled and Millicent was still avoiding him. Whichever event Shoffer chose to attend, he would find Mr. North had just left or was expected later. If he remained, North would not appear and if he left, he would find himself trailing from party to party in North’s wake.
Pitiable, poor, pathetic moon-calf.
Not, he knew, the best way to suppress rumors.
Shaking his head he forced himself to pay attention to Beth.
“That surprises me, considering how popular Mr. North is,” continued Beth.
Shoffer did not comment. The rumors about Mr. North must be well distributed by now. His star could well be fading and the Boarders’ place in society with it.
“Well, certainly we shall attend Mildred’s party,” said Shoffer. “I was not aware that there were any difficulties. As Mr. Simpson took a hand in the arrangements, it should be a success.”
“It shall be, if only we can persuade the ton to attend. Poor Mildred is beside herself and threatening to cancel. I keep telling her not to. If she retreats now, she will never risk trying again.”
Shoffer smiled at Beth. The girl had matured this season. No longer the fragile little shadow she had been after last season, she stepped up and became a dignified lady aware of her own power. A woman of character and strength.
However, her brother still regarded himself as her protector. If an action of his could further a cause of hers, then he would act. Besides, even though he had warned Millicent that there was a risk of invitations falling off, he had no wish for the end of the Boarder ladies first season to fizzle after such a dazzling beginning. He was fond of Mildred and little Maude and wanted them to be happy.
