Perversion (Asylum for the Mechanically Insane Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  “In that case…” Somerly turned to her. “One request. One favor if you will, in return for another.”

  “Let’s hear it.” She waited, wondering if it would be money or something else.

  “We would like permission to use the Dower House as an extension of our experiments.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It might be possible. It hasn’t been used in an age.”

  “That won’t be a problem. We merely require somewhere secluded and convenient to continue our experimental work with some new substances. They require privacy and discretion, both of which are offered by the Dower House.”

  Deciding that whatever they were doing couldn’t be half as important to her as their help in muzzling Randall, Alwynne nodded. “Very well. I shall tell my staff that you have permission to be there and also hint them away. One mention of your work and they run quite fast in the other direction.”

  Somerly grinned. “Jolly good thing, sometimes.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And we shall begin work on a formula for his Lordship. Trust us to do our best.” Granville’s earnest request made her smile gently at his enthusiasm.

  “I do trust you, sir. And your cousin. Make me a miracle to calm my husband during this trying time. Perhaps induce some kind of coma in him.” She turned for the door then paused. “Just don’t kill him with it. When the times comes, I’d like to be the one to do that.”

  She quit the room, leaving two men staring after her in shocked silence.

  Chapter 5

  London, a few days later… a building near the docks

  “Hampshire. I said I’m going to Hampshire.” The woman rolled over in bed and stared defiantly at the naked man next to her.

  “Where in Hampshire?”

  “Someplace called Little Harbury.”

  “And what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

  She shrugged. “Fuck somebody else, I suppose. God knows there’s plenty downstairs that would take you on, Gerald.”

  He frowned and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and giving her his back. “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to. Nothing to do with you.”

  “I pay you enough. Why are you leaving?” He turned, his face pouty, glaring at her over his shoulder.

  “Because I’m bored.” She stretched languorously, her white skin glowing in the early morning sun. The little bit that could make it through the grimy windows of her room, of course.

  His expression changed and his hand reached out, sliding over her belly to the tuft of red hair between her thighs. His fingers delved beneath and began to fondle her. “I can keep you occupied.”

  “Yes, you could.” She moved a little. Gerald had good fingers and a light touch. She might allow this…if he paid for it. “It’ll be extra.”

  He turned fully, his gazed fixed on her mound. “I don’t care. I like seeing you in your throes. I like feeling you come around my fingers.”

  “Money talks.” She clamped her thighs tightly around his hand. “Pay up or pull out.”

  He sighed. “I’m good for it. In my waistcoat there’s two gold guineas. Enough for you, you greedy whore?”

  She relaxed and nodded. “It’ll do. But make sure you give me a good one, Gerald. Maybe even two…”

  He bent to his task, his fingers finding the places that made her moan. And moan she did, grinding her pubis against his hand and then reaching out to his head, pulling his face to her nipples.

  He understood and suckled her, hard, teeth and tongue stimulating her to a fever pitch of lust. When he slipped two fingers inside her and began to stroke, she whimpered, her thighs wide, her mouth slack, her eyes closing as the tide of release drew close.

  She reached down and found his cock, hard and moist at the tip where her movements had stroked it to full arousal. She squeezed him, her grip strong, knowing he liked that especially when she rubbed just beneath the head, which she did.

  He gasped and thrust a third finger into her passage just as his teeth closed on one tightly furled nipple and tugged.

  She cried out and thrust her hips upward, pulling on his cock as she did so.

  His grunt of completion echoed her gasps of release and she rode his fingers through the violent spasms rocking her body. He spent in her hand, fast, hot and pumping, his buttocks pushing her palm down into the linens. She waited to wipe her hand until he was rolling away.

  God, Mother Riordan would be pissed at the state of the sheets.

  Mary smiled as her body relaxed into a state of sated pleasure. Gerald’s two golden guineas would more than make up for a bit of a wet mess. And if things went as planned, she wouldn’t even be around to listen to the griping. With what she had carefully tucked away, she’d reserved a place for herself on the train to Basingstoke and the ticket was waiting, hidden beneath her corset in the top drawer.

  Nobody could stop her, and she doubted anyone would. The other girls would fight over her regulars and Mother Riordan had a couple of new ones she was anxious to auction off. That kind of thing always pulled a crowd and Mary’s absence wouldn’t make a dent in the take for the night.

  Which was really what it was all about. Money.

  And so it was that later that day, with her red hair tightly pinned into a neat bun and topped with a small ladylike hat, a tidy and demure Mary O’Malley maneuvered her second-hand portmanteau up above her luxurious seat in the Southern Steamer. It was the newest in steam powered transportation, and it was warming up its gears at Waterloo Station in preparation for the trip to the south coast.

  Settling her skirts, she looked out the window and watched the bustle on the platforms—then there was a shrill whistle, the conductor’s traditional call for all aboard…and they were off.

  Little Harbury, here I come. I just hope that Maisie and Daisy are glad to see me.

  *~~*~~*

  “Oh, please, Mrs. Onslow.”

  Two pairs of blue eyes stared plaintively at the owner of the millinery store that graced the High Street of Little Harbury.

  Louise Onslow gave up the battle. “Girls, just because it’s very quiet and you’ve finished your work, doesn’t mean I’ll pay you for loafing around and doing nothing, you know.”

  “We know,” nodded Maisie.

  “Yes we do,” added her twin, Daisy. “It’s just that this lady we know is coming to visit from London.”

  “She’s almost like an aunt, you see. Such a good friend of our Mum before she passed.” Maisie’s gaze lowered as she sniffed.

  “She took care of us for a bit, let us learn about hats from a friend of hers and then helped us find you, Mrs. Onslow.”

  Louise shrugged. “I use a reputable employment agency, so I must presume this lady is acceptable.” She idly straightened the ribbons dangling from a pretty autumn bonnet on the counter. “But if you two leave early, I won’t be paying you, mind.”

  “We understand. But we’d really like to be at the station when she gets here. And she’s going to stay with us in our room for a few days. It’s going to be such fun.”

  “Well, seeing as it’s Friday and you girls have worked quite hard this week…” She walked around behind the shining oak surface and whisked a key from beneath her bodice. It was on a chain and she bent over to unlock her sturdy cash drawer.

  Maisie and Daisy flashed triumphant glances at each other as the unmistakable squeak of the well-worn wood heralded the arrival of their wages.

  “Here you are then.” Mrs. Onslow dropped coins into two outstretched palms. “You’re good girls and I’m pleased with what you do. So mind yourselves over the weekend and for heaven’s sake try and find better rooms.”

  Daisy nodded. “We don’t really like bein’ over the inn, but it’s cheap, Mrs. Onslow. And we get to meet people.”

  “Maybe we’ll meet some nice gentlemen,” added Maisie. “You know, with a bit of land or something. Looking for wives.”

  “Not living over the Dead Boar Arms, yo
u won’t.” The older woman re-locked the drawer with a crisp click. “A nice gentleman wants a nice girl who knows her manners and can keep his house and his children neat and well fed.”

  “Mr. Onslow like that, then, was he?” Daisy asked the question in a tone of pure innocence.

  “I…er…well of course he was, rest his soul.” Mrs. Onslow walked to the door and opened it. “Run along now. But make sure you’re here bright and early Monday morning. No excuses.”

  She nodded as they both bobbed curtsies and then hurried from the shop, holding hands and laughing as the sharp breeze threatened to whip the bonnets from their heads.

  Louise Onslow watched, envying them their youth, wishing that she too had had the chance to scurry along the street with a sister, looking forward to what would probably be a laughter-filled couple of days.

  Then she closed the door and prepared to lock it, only to hear a sharp tap.

  “Open up, Louise, and put the kettle on.”

  It was Dilys Jackson from the other side of Little Harbury, who was a regular visitor and the biggest gossip in town.

  She opened the door. “Hallo Dilys. Everything all right then?”

  “You’ll never believe it, Louise.”

  “I’m sure I won’t. Would you like some biscuits with your tea?”

  “Ooh yes, dear. That would be lovely. And then I can tell you about Rosie Martin’s latest baby.” She leaned forward. “I think I know who the real father is.”

  “Really? Do tell…”

  *~~*~~*

  The station at Little Harbury was bustling as bags and boxes were unloaded and more than a few persons alighted from the train. Saturday was market day and the farmers from the surrounding villages liked to get an early start by arriving the night before.

  Once the fresh produce was stowed safely in several surrounding barns, the owners would take themselves over to the Dead Boar Arms for a friendly tankard of fine local ale while indulging in a game of darts and all the gossip worth having.

  For her part, Mary O’Malley was glad to see the back of her compartment. Although it was luxurious, and the engine powered by the cleanest of steam, the tracks were still made the old-fashioned way, and the gleaming monster had clattered its way south with a hypnotic rhythm of clicks and thumps that had nearly driven her mad.

  But finally, taking a breath of the country-scented air, she was able to shed the lingering worry that London had pursued her to this out of the way spot. There was always a chance that some customer might cross her path and recognize her. Something she really didn’t want to happen here.

  The twins’ invitation had come at a perfect time. She was ready to move on from the whorehouse. She had ambitions; she was an O’Malley and she had a few ideas, unfledged as yet, but solid enough to drive her from the guaranteed income of the Metropolis to a little village in Hampshire. She planned on using this holiday to organize her strategies and produce a solid schedule for herself, which would lead—eventually—to the kind of life she’d always desired.

  A filthy rich one.

  “Miss O’Malley…Miss Mary…”

  The shouts attracted Mary’s attention and she turned to see a matched pair of young ladies bearing down on her, waving and smiling.

  She waved back and awaited their arrival which was precipitous, to say the least. “Girls, how wonderful. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to meet the train.”

  She hugged them both, delighted at their glowing complexions and happy faces.

  “Mrs. Onslow let us off early so we could be here. Ever so nice she is,” said Maisie as she picked up Mary’s portmanteau.

  “It’s only a short walk to our room, will it tire you?” Daisy looked anxiously at Mary.

  “Of course not. I’m yet to reach my dotage, silly button.”

  They all laughed and linked arms, Mary between them, her travelling case banging the outside of Maisie’s knee.

  “I’m sorry we’re over the inn, Miss Mary. But it was all we could manage. And it’s not so bad.” Maisie glanced across at her twin.

  “It gets a bit noisy of a Saturday, of course. But we can sleep through most anything it seems.” Daisy giggled. “And once, when we’d been out for a walk and got in a bit later, we had to walk through the tap and two such nice gentlemen talked us into having a sip or two of ale.” She grinned. “It was ever so sweet of them.”

  Mary tried to look stern. “Did you behave yourselves?”

  “Of course, Miss Mary.” The two voices chorused the words together.

  “We remembered, Miss Mary. A virgin is worth her weight in gold.” Maisie lifted her chin. “I want that gold.”

  “Me too,” agreed Daisy.

  “That’s my girls.” Mary was pleased. Very pleased. They were indeed worth their weight in gold and she’d a mind to use a bit of that gold herself to fund her very own house of pleasure.

  Not a whorehouse, of course. Something much more upscale, with perhaps a small gaming salon and discreet rooms upstairs.

  Her companions chattered like magpies as they walked from the station to the village and the sun began to set. Mary remembered that it was autumn as soon as the breeze picked up and whisked her skirts around her ankles, chilling the calves of her legs through her stockings.

  “I confess I’m hoping for a nice warm meal this evening, girls.” She looked at them. “We can catch up on old times perhaps. Does this inn serve dinner? To three ladies like us?”

  “If they don’t, they’re beyond foolish.”

  The voice behind them made them all stop and turn in surprise.

  “Three beauties, roses of the English countryside. Who wouldn’t want to serve them anything they desire? Even something as simple as dinner.”

  “Mr. Granville.” Maisie dropped the bag and clapped her hands in delight. “You made me jump.”

  “Me too,” agreed Daisy with a laugh. “You are a jokester, sir, scaring us like that.”

  “Now ladies, it was not my intent to cause you any distress. But you all looked so charming in the waning light I couldn’t help but enjoy your presence without you knowing it.”

  His smile was smooth and practiced, and Mary knew him for the wealthy dilettante he was. “My dears. Should you not properly introduce me to your gentleman friend here?” She poured maturity and responsibility into her tone.

  “Yes, please do.” The man met her gaze with one of his own that spoke volumes about his appreciation of women. It caressed her without being obvious and stirred her in spite of her iron control.

  “This is Miss Mary O’Malley, sir.” Daisy gestured with her hand. “Mr. Eldon Granville, Miss Mary. He’s a scientist from up at Harbury Hall. A brilliant man, they say. Invents things and does experiments and stuff.”

  “Enchanted, Miss O’Malley.” Granville took her hand and raised it to her lips, making her smile at his courtesy.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Granville. Were you walking our way? Would you care to join our merry group?”

  “You have read my mind.” He extended his arm to her. “Let me have that bag, child…” He took the portmanteau from Maisie with his other hand. “Shall we promenade?”

  They laughed at his jest and all four proceeded down a slight hill toward the Dead Boar Arms.

  Mary took advantage of the twins’ distraction as they oohed and aahed over a tiny kitten in a village child’s arms.

  “Surprised to see me, Eldon?”

  “Bitch. My heart damn near stopped. What the fuck are you doing in Little Harbury?”

  “You, if I have any chance at all. You always had the biggest cock around.” She sighed. “Don’t know how I’ll rid myself of those two though.” She dipped her head at the girls.

  “I think I can help.” He grinned. “On both counts.”

  “Really?” She leaned against him slightly. He’d been her favorite client for a year or so and she admitted to herself now that she’d missed him.

  “I have an idea. Let me buy you dinner this evening.
We’ll dine early and send them off to bed.”

  “All right.” Intrigued Mary glanced up at him under the brim of her neat hat. “Then what?”

  “Then you and I will spend some time reminiscing.”

  “Ahh.” She smiled as that well-remembered heat began to stir low in her body. “I shall like that, I think.”

  “You always did. Standing up. Against a tree. The air cold against those hot sweet pussy lips. My cock wet and hard…”

  “Stop, for God’s sake.” Her hand clutched at his sleeve as she missed a step and almost stumbled.

  “Miss Mary, are you all right?”

  She sighed as the twins hurried back to her side. “I’m well. Just a loose pebble. Mr. Granville’s arm bore the strain.”

  He led them onward, his step firm. “I have had the most pleasant idea. Will you allow me to host your dinner? I understand that ladies are welcomed into the snug at the Dead Boar Arms. I’m sure we can ask for some of their delicious Cornish pasties and perhaps a cheese or two. Simple but unsurpassed fare. What do you say?”

  The answering “Hurrah” shocked a flock of sparrows from a nearby hedgerow and made them all laugh.

  Mary wondered about Granville. What did he have in mind, other than a quick fuck somewhere private? She wasn’t averse to the idea by any means, since he was young, handsome and energetic and she was ready to get a bit of the goods for herself.

  I hope he’s still got that big cock. And that he hasn’t forgotten what to do with it…

  Chapter 6

  “I beg your pardon? Mr. What?”

  Her day’s labors concluded, Portia was back in the cozy confines of the cottage she now shared with Inspector Burke. And she was staring at him in confusion.

  James chuckled. He felt a great deal more comfortable with her under his roof at night instead of the Harbury’s, and enjoyed her youthful joie de vivre. Which at present had given way to a blank look of complete befuddlement.

  “I imagine I looked something like that when Mrs. Howell invited me to come and see him.” He shook his head in amusement. “That lady is unique.”