by Demelza Hart
“I’m sure both you and Lady Atherton will be most pleased with the appointment, my lord.”
“Hmm. Let’s hurry up with dinner. I’ve got a wager with Barnsley at ten. It may run into the night. And I’ll be needing some French letters. Barnsley’s found some dancers he’s keen to show off.” And without a word of thanks to his valet, the earl stamped from the room. Edward stared after him, his face laced with hatred.
* * * *
The next day, Edward wasted an hour cleaning the vomit from one of His Lordship’s dress shirts. The shoulder contained smears of cheap French lipstick, bright red and oily. The cloying tang of whoring wafted from the material, mingling with the stench of puke. Never again, Edward vowed as he scrubbed. He had his little nest egg tucked away and he knew exactly what he was going to spend it on.
In the afternoon, with a few minutes to spare, he took himself to the Long Gallery, the most secluded and peaceful part of the Hall, to gather his thoughts and clear his mind. If anyone found him there, he’d invent some excuse. He always got away with it.
He stared out over the immaculately landscaped gardens. It might be beautiful, but he wouldn’t miss a single part of the estate when he left. Not the land or the building, at least.
“Marham? What on earth do you think you’re doing here?”
He turned. Lady Atherton was standing at the far end of the gallery, exuding effortless, green-clad superiority. He looked back out to the lawns.
“Taking some time.”
“You are not permitted here.”
“His Lordship asked me to find a book for him. I came looking for it, my lady.”
“My husband hasn’t read a book since he was thirteen. You are a terrible liar.”
“Only to you, my lady.”
She came and stood beside him. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”
“S’all right, I suppose, my lady.”
“A man like you could do a lot worse. You have a good position.” She spoke with the disdainful contempt which came naturally from her breeding. “You should consider yourself lucky.”
He turned on her, his face twisting spitefully. “You think I’m going to waste my life cleaning up your husband’s piss and shit? You think I’m going to spend the rest of my days like old Brewer—bitter and wasted away? Oh no. I’ve got plans, me. This is just for starters. I’ve been savin’, and when I’ve got m’self a nice bit stashed away, I’m gone. America. New life. I’ll be richer than yer husband one of these days.”
Her eyes flickered dark for a brief second. “And how do you intend to do that, Marham? You? The son of a farm labourer? Don’t be ridiculous!”
For a moment Isabella was fearful. Edward’s face hardened and he stared into her coldly. His strength and dominance sometimes overwhelmed her senses. But then he relaxed into a smile. “Oh, I have me brains. Self-taught, me. Worked hard to learn to read early. I were readin’ all the classics by the time I were twelve. Earned me beatings by my father, it did, but I didn’t care. And…I have me looks, my lady.”
“You intend to sleep your way to the top, do you?”
“Well…” The smirk deepened and he took a sauntering step towards her, letting his eyes linger on her supple breasts. “It’s worked so far.”
She slapped him. She hit him so hard, square across the face, that the sound resonated off the high windows of the Long Gallery like a pistol shot. But Edward’s face showed only momentary shock, shock which quickly turned to ferocious intent. He brought his hand up as fast as lightning to grip her across the chin, his fingers and thumb digging into her tender skin. Her eyes widened in alarm as he moved in, heated and malevolent.
“Oh no, my lady.” He leant down, his eyes searing into hers, his hot, sweet breath dangerous against her lips. “You love yer fury, don’t you? You crave all that rage and passion. You might live in this grand house with all yer fine clothes and yer fine pretences, but inside you’re as hollow as a shrivelled nut shell. You need me to shake up yer stagnant, grey little life. And you don’t want to lose it. You can’t bear the thought of me leaving you all alone with that great stinking bastard you call a husband. You wanted to see what it was like, didn’t you? The sting on yer palm when you strike.” With that he spun her around with brute force. “Lean on the desk. Palms flat on it.”
“Not here. Damn you, Marham. Someone will see.”
“They’re finished here for the day. Now shut yer mouth and wait.”
He threw her skirts up over her hips, revealing a naked backside—she wore no drawers at his behest. And he made her wait. For long moments, minutes even, he simply stood in silence while she lay before him, hands flat on the table, her rump exposed, waiting for his touch.
“Does Violet know you dispense with your drawers the minute after she’s got you into them? Tut tut. After all the trouble she goes to to set them out for you.”
“Edward…”
She was expecting the sting, longing for the burn, but instead there was a sweet unexpected stretch, and she sucked in a breath. “Oh yes, oh fuck, oh yes, oh yes.”
“What’s happened to yer fine words now, my lady?” His long forefinger was probing her arse. With a groan she relaxed onto it. He tried another. It too was sucked up with subjugated resistance to nestle beside the first.
“Oh, you want it, don’t you, you little harlot? You want it right up yer tight hot arse. And luckily for you”—he slapped his rock-hard erection across the cheeks of her bottom—“I’m more than up for the job.”
Yes, she wanted it, she wanted that red fullness, that stretching, cramming feeling she only got with a cock there, but even Lady Atherton needed a little preparation. She tensed, pulling away.
“Don’t fret. You know me…always prepared.” A smooth, cool substance was smeared over her. And there it was—his hard, thick cock-head pressing deeper and tighter into her most guarded space.
“Don’t look around,” he stated with steely conviction as his cock entered her arse. Edward went at her with long, slow strokes. She felt the tight muscle grip him on the push in then expel as he withdrew. Always her favourite and, as she knew from the moans of the man possessing her body, his favourite too.
Isabella lay with her head resting on the cool, dark wood, thinking only of the complete stinging stretch of cock inside her. And what a cock. She’d had many. The convention of a monogamous life had never appealed, although she had at least kept her carnal shenanigans private. But, Edward! Her King of Cock. As her arse took him deep and true, each thrust sending much needed pleasure-pained fullness into her psyche, she knew he was the one.
When he came in her arse she felt it even more, felt the heat of his juice pouring into her. And fuck, she wanted that now. She moved against him, urging him to release hard. As he crammed the last of his seed into her, she tipped over. This man did it like no other. Profound pleasure. Isabella’s orgasm shattered her senses, tearing through to her very bones. She lay afterwards, damp and limp, unable to move for a time. Edward pulled out with a chuckle, wiping her arse with his own handkerchief.
She eventually pushed herself up and smoothed her skirts down, turning to him with a ferocious glare. “Don’t you ever do that to me above stairs again, you depraved bastard.”
“What? I got the feeling you rather enjoyed it.”
“Someone could have seen.”
He laughed long. “Do you honestly think people don’t know about yer little dalliances, my lady? You’re out of yer mind, Isabella.”
She tried to hit him again but this time he was too quick for her and caught her arm. “Uh-uh. You won’t do that again. If you let me spunk in yer arse, you can let me call you by yer name. Isabella. Isabella. It’s a beautiful name. Isabella. I like the sound of it on my tongue as much as I love the taste of you on my tongue.”
She met his eyes, bright and blue and penetrating her very soul. And it was suddenly so clear. Isabella curled her arms around him and let herself drown in his kiss. “Anywhere, everywhere, Ed
ward, Edward…I can’t be without you, you know I can’t.”
And, at that precise moment, Edward didn’t think he could either.
They pulled away slowly and he rested his forehead on hers.
“I’m going away with His Lordship in a few days,” he said heavily.
“I know. I hate it when you’re not here.”
“You’ll find a way to amuse yerself, I’m sure.”
“Anyone else is just a substitute for you.”
“I know that. I don’t mind, y’know. I like the thought of you with other men, as long as…”
“As long as what?”
“You’re the one in control with them. I’m the only one who can have you like that, understand that.”
She showered him with kisses again. “I do understand, oh God, I do, I do. I want you again, I want to feel your hand on me now.”
He chuckled and extracted her arms from round his neck. “Yer husband will be wanting me soon. There’s a new footman to appoint. I have to make sure everything’s set.”
“When then?” she pouted. “I can’t last for so long.”
“Like I said…you’ll find ways to amuse yerself. Y’can tell me all the juicy details when I get back.” And he winked and sauntered away from her.
Chapter Three
Frederick Upton, newly appointed footman, felt a little too snug in his new livery. He was proud of his new position. Foresham Hall was the pinnacle of service and he had been elevated to first footman from his previous job. Lord Atherton had a bit of a reputation but was rarely around, so it was said. Lady Atherton also had a reputation, but was easy enough on the eye for it to be worth the stinging comments and rebukes.
And now, standing as straight as he could despite the uncomfortable tightness around his groin, he was ready to meet his new mistress. She had summoned him, and he waited as she walked elegantly into the grandiose hall towards him.
The rumours were right. She was fucking beautiful. Frederick swallowed hard and averted his eyes.
“Are you the new footman?” came her cool enquiry.
“I am, my lady.”
“You are to address me as Lady Atherton in the first instance.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Lady Athert…umm…my Lady…Atherton.” He smiled awkwardly.
Lady Atherton gave a little grin and paced across to her new footman. She cast her blue eyes slowly over him, lingering over his shoulders and torso. Her gaze came to rest on his tie. She tutted.
“What is your name?”
“Frederick, my lady.”
“Your collar is not correctly aligned, Frederick.”
His hands instinctively darted to it.
“No. Hands down.” Even if she had not been the lady of the house, he knew better than to argue with a tone like that.
Reaching up, Lady Atherton placed long pale fingers on his collar and tweaked it into place. She finished with a deliberate press of her hand against it in finality. “There.” He swallowed hard, drawing her eye to the lurch of his Adam’s apple along his neck. Her hand, still at his collar, lingered and she drew it down, slowly, pressing each fingertip through his pristine new uniform onto solid flesh. Oh, he liked that. His cock stirred.
Isabella took a step closer, and her hand grazed the tautness of his stomach, down, down. “All better,” she murmured, heady and deliberate.
And the footman dropped his gaze and met the eyes of his mistress, just for a moment, but enough for the inevitable to be signed and sealed.
There was a cough behind them. Edward stood at the foot of the stairs—a slight knowing smile tickled his face.
“Excuse me for interrupting, Your Ladyship, but Frederick is required in the kitchens…at your convenience.”
With an intake of breath, which could have been annoyance, she stepped back. “Well, did you hear that, Frederick? You’re wanted elsewhere. Run along now, and ensure you present yourself correctly attired in future.”
“Yes, my lady.”
And he left swiftly.
Edward stood in the hallway, his gaze forward, as if he were awaiting her next move. Isabella stared at him. At length she made her way out past him.
“What do you think of the new footman…my lady?”
She stopped, wanting him, always wanting him. But she knew his game and smiled slyly. “Oh, I think he’ll do very nicely indeed.”
* * * *
Edward, due to his prior acquaintance with the new footman, had agreed to share a room with Frederick. He lay on his bed and glanced slyly at Fred in the small mirror as the new man loosened his tie and collar after his first day.
“Nice chat with Lady Atherton, was it?”
“Could’a done without you stoppin’ in just then, ya bugger.”
“She likes t’ make her new staff feel welcome, that’s all.”
“I’d like t’ feel a lot more of her, I can tell ya.”
“You may just get lucky then, Freddie, my boy.”
“What? Are you fibbin’ me?”
“No. Her Ladyship likes to get to know her new staff very closely, especially the young male ones, if you catch my drift. With a husband like hers, she needs it. Bastard treats her like filth. She’s entitled to her fun. You’ll get yer chance. Not long too, I’ll wager.”
Fred glanced across with a smirk. “Did she make you feel welcome, Eddie?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Edward stared up at the ceiling, his arm behind his head, a smile caressing his mouth between drags on his cigarette.
“She’s had you then?”
“I’ve had her, mate…and the rest.”
“When you first arrived?”
“Not long after. And now.”
“You still doin’ her?”
“I most certainly am.”
“Ah…she won’t want me then.”
“Yes, she will. She likes a bit of variety does the Countess of Atherton. I cater for a particular branch of her needs, but her needs are far-reaching, trust me.”
“Which branch would that be then, Ed?”
Edward tossed Fred a wink and flicked his hand through the air, accompanying it with the sound of a cracking whip.
Fred smirked. “You always were a filthy bastard, Eddie.”
“Keep the ladies happy, Fred, and the rest looks after itself.”
“So…what d’ya reckon I should do?”
“Well, with a Johnny like yours, you can’t go wrong. She’ll be lying back with her legs as wide as the Atlantic as soon as you whip it out. And don’t go easy on her. She won’t thank you for that. She likes it hard and fast, does our Is.”
“Is? Fuck, Eddie. Do ya call her that t’ her face?”
“I call her all sorts to her face, mate. I’m off with His Cockship tomorrow—then’s yer chance. Not that yer’ll have t’ do anything. She’ll send for you, I guarantee it. You make her come good and true and you’ll be butler before you know it.”
“You’re not butler.”
Edward turned his eyes on Fred and there was a cold silence, but soon enough his smirk returned. “Me? You think I want to be stuck ‘ere noddin’ and scrapin’ all m’ life? I’m off as soon as I can—the future’s bright, mate.”
“You’d have to leave her.”
Edward didn’t answer. His eyes remained open and he stared above him, taking a last pull on his cigarette and stubbing it out before turning over and blowing out the candle.
“G’night, Freddie boy. Tomorrow’s yer day for the takin’.”
* * * *
The call came after lunch. Fred was just finishing putting away the plate when Mr Brewer tapped him on the shoulder. “Her Ladyship wishes to see you in the drawing room. You are excused your duties this afternoon.”
“Mr Brewer?” Fred was surprised by the apparent awareness of the butler.
Brewer merely jerked his head back to hasten Fred. He nodded and headed for the door.
“Go carefully, son,” Brewer called after him. “You’re not the first
footman to be ‘summoned’ by Her Ladyship.”
Brewer turned, his face set stern, then left. Frederick felt a sudden pattering of nerves, not something he was used to with a woman. He flustered about with the last of the plates, straightened his livery then hurried to the drawing room. He knocked. A lady’s voice bade him enter. He pushed open the door and went in. Lady Atherton was sitting facing away from him, writing at her desk. She didn’t look up. After a while, he cleared his throat and, at last, she turned towards him.
“Frederick. Close the door.” He did. “How is your work progressing?”
“Well, Lady Atherton, thank you.”
“And you’ve settled in?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“With whom are you rooming?”
“With Edward, my lady. He kindly let me share his room.”
“Did he? Unusual for a valet to share with a footman.”
“We go back a long way, my lady.”
“So I’ve heard,” she purred. “Edward is not here today. He is accompanying my husband to Pembroke Hall.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I get terribly lonely when he is not here.”
“It’s understandable for a wife to miss her husband, my lady.”
“I wasn’t referring to my husband,” she stated with stark factuality. “Are you wondering why I’ve summoned you?”
“I haven’t thought about it, my lady.”
“Oh?” She stood and walked slowly towards him. “I should think you have. Do you not speak to Edward?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Then I should suspect you know exactly why you are here.”
She was circling him now, casting her gaze over his elegant form, clad impeccably in the livery she herself had selected for her footmen. Then she brought up her hand and ran her fingers idly along his shoulder. “Your livery suits you, Frederick, and I am very pleased to see you have worn it correctly today.”
“Yes, my lady.” He dared turn to look at her as she continued her progress around him.
“Do you find it comfortable?”
