A Bluestocking Christmas

by Monica Burns

  His pacing ceased at the sound of carriage wheels rumbling over cobblestone. What had happened to the self-control he prided himself on? The rest of the Rockwoods were habitual in their irrational behavior, but not him. Not since childhood had he succumbed to such illogical or unexpected deportment. Behind him, the door to the brothel snapped open. Sebastian immediately turned his head to see Devin leaving the establishment. The memory of his friend’s censure still stung. Irritated, Sebastian didn’t look at his friend as the man stopped at Sebastian’s side.

  “Sebastian, I owe you an apology for questioning your intentions. I should have known better. You did right by the woman.”

  “Perhaps,” Sebastian replied gruffly without looking at his friend. “Then again, perhaps not. We both know what sort of man I am, Devin. I’ve never had much patience with women, and I’m too old to start now.”

  “Good God, Sebastian.” Devin laughed. “You’re only thirty. Hardly a doddering old man.”

  “Then why the hell do I feel so Goddamn old?” Far from feeling humorous about his present situation, he opened the door of his carriage as it halted in front of him. “I’m not equipped to deal with a female guaranteed to wilt at the sound of my voice.”

  Without waiting for Devin’s reply, he climbed into the vehicle and threw himself onto the padded leather seat. Across from him sat his high-priced acquisition. He barely cast a glance in her direction before staring out the window. What in blue blazes was he going to do with her?

  He sighed wearily and closed his eyes. With the woman’s addition to his household, his schedule would be in shambles tomorrow. Louisa would no doubt attempt to take his new charge under her wing, which meant explanations. Then there was the problem of seeing to her clothing, determining what skills she possessed, and finding her employment. Why the devil hadn’t he just contacted the police? Then the woman would be someone else’s problem. The answer irritated him. He didn’t want her to be someone else’s problem.

  Annoyed with himself, Sebastian clenched his jaw at the thought. No, he’d simply not been thinking clearly at Chantrel’s. Lust and a desire to thwart Templeton had driven him to buy her. But he was in his right mind again. Sebastian’s gaze shifted back to the woman opposite him. A veil obscured her features. He clenched his jaw as he acknowledged the fact that it made her even more enticing than when she’d been on display at the private auction.

  She hadn’t moved since he’d climbed into the carriage. Come to think of it, she’d not even uttered a sound. What was wrong with her? Something inside him stirred. He wanted to see that succulent figure of hers again. See those wide green eyes. See if she truly was worth the one thousand—no, two thousand pounds he’d paid.

  “Lift your veil,” he commanded. When she didn’t move, Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek. Didn’t she realize he was trying to help her? “Helen, is it? I simply want to see your face when I talk to you.”

  Still she didn’t stir. She could have been a statue if not for the soft flutter of her veil from her breathing. Outside, the clouds parted and moonlight suddenly streamed through the carriage window. The cape she wore had fallen open to reveal her barely covered voluptuous curves, and he sucked in a sharp breath as the glow of the moon poured over her.

  Up close, Helen’s body was every bit as sensuous as he remembered. Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the rose-colored tips of her breasts. They were stiff beneath the sheer fabric, and his fingers itched to touch her. Would those delicious nipples taste hot against his tongue? Instinctively he knew tasting her right now would give him more pleasure than he’d had in a long time. Far too long. It had been months since he’d parted with his last mistress.

  That’s why Helen had captured his interest. She intrigued him. Tempted him. Christ Jesus, how she tempted him. Just the sight of her sitting across from him wearing next to nothing made him rock hard. His gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs and the dark curls visible through the sheer white fabric of her chemise. The sudden thought of filling her with his cock made his mouth go dry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one.

  Mesmerized by the erotic visions flashing through his head, Sebastian stretched out his hand toward her. Lightly, his fingertips brushed across one nipple. A second later, he jerked back. Bloody hell, he’d lost his mind. He’d rescued her from Templeton to spare her this exact behavior. Now he was acting no better than the marquess. Angered by his lack of control, he gritted his teeth. With a sharp movement, he pulled the veil away from Helen’s face.

  A cloud passed over the moon, casting her features into the shadows. When moonlight drifted through the window once more, he stared at her face. Society would never deem her a classic beauty, but there was something compelling about her large, almond-shaped eyes. Familiar eyes. Where the devil had he seen her before? Outrage glistened in the deep green of her eyes, and he waved his hand in a gesture of exasperation.

  “I’m not going to eat you.”

  Although that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to slide his mouth over every inch of her. He longed to suckle her nipples until she cried out with pleasure. Stroke that tender nub between her folds until she coated his fingers with hot cream. He swallowed hard at the images flooding his head.

  With greater difficulty than he was accustomed to, Sebastian pushed the images out of his mind and waited for her to speak. Frustration evident in her luminous eyes, a single tear trickled down a pale cheek. Bloody hell, she was going to cry. The memory of the auction made him grimace. He supposed it was to be expected.

  She reminded him of his sisters when they were upset. How many times had he wiped tears off Louisa’s cheek in particular? Every time a woman cried, he wanted to leave the room until they stopped wailing. It was damned uncomfortable listening to them sob. He abruptly stretched out his hand to wipe the tear away.

  Fury and frustration flared in the woman’s eyes, but she didn’t flinch or turn away from him. The expression in her eyes made him frown. If she didn’t want him touching her, why didn’t she simply smack his hand away? Sebastian stared at her for a long minute before he closed his eyes at his stupidity. She’d been drugged. Chantrel had used sweet vitriol or some other narcotic to immobilize her prize. The moment he found a way to rescue Caleb’s beloved, he’d bring the brothel madame to her knees and her business along with her.

  Flinging himself back against the black leather seat, he folded his arms. He was struck by the fact that her eyes told him more than he ever thought possible. Outrage remained, but hope flickered in the beautiful eyes fixed on his face.

  “Damnation!” Out of habit, he pulled his watch from his white vest and flipped it open. The feel of the gold pocket watch against the pads of his fingers always soothed him. Noting the time, he tucked it back into his pocket. “It appears Chantrel’s drug has rendered you immobile and speechless. Can you possibly blink your eyes?”

  Relief lit her gaze and he saw her eyelids blink once. Satisfied they were finally getting somewhere, he nodded sharply. “Excellent. One blink is yes, two is no. Understood?”

  Another blink of her eyelids answered his question.

  “You’re quick. I like that.” He nodded and bit back a smile at the irritation that flared in her eyes. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been in such a fortunate position before. That is—being in the company of a woman who doesn’t talk, for whatever reason.”

  This time he couldn’t keep from smiling at the anger in her eyes. It made her green eyes dark as the thick summer’s grass at Melton Park. Sebastian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and shook his head. “Fair enough, I’ll restrict my comments until you’ve regained use of your tongue.”

  Contempt flashed in her gaze and the moonlight reflected the gold sparks in her eyes. The look she gave him would have been lethal if it had been a weapon. It didn’t matter. He enjoyed watching the entrancing sparks of outrage illuminating her eyes. Sweet Jesus, he’d truly lost his sense
s if he were comparing her eyes to grass with gold sparks. Maudlin rubbish is what it really was. He needed to remain focused on the business at hand

  “Helen. That is your name, correct?” He paused. The affirmative response allowed him to proceed. “Do you have family?”

  The fear in her eyes made him frown as her single blink told him she had family. He eyed her with curiosity.

  “Mother?” Two blinks. “Father?”

  Once more, she blinked twice. Her agitation increased, and Sebastian saw her lips twitch, which told him she was desperately fighting the drug that controlled her. A garbled sound tumbled from her lips.

  “Eh..erd”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Panic flickered in her eyes as she silently pleaded with him to comprehend. He grimaced. It could be hours before she was coherent. “It’s all right. The drug should wear off by morning. We’ll sort everything out then.”

  The coach jerked to a halt and Sebastian climbed out of the vehicle. The lights of Melton House were a soft glow on the side of the carriage as he leaned back inside and lifted Helen into his arms. As Sebastian strode up the steps into the town home, he tried to ignore the way her body warmed his in all the wrong places. The sooner he found a safe haven for Helen, the better. If he waited too long, his prized control might easily slip with this woman. And that was unacceptable.

  Chapter 2

  Helen stirred beneath a warm blanket. A fierce thumping pounded her head with vengeance, and she moaned. Raising a hand to her throbbing brow, she forced herself to sit up. The pain forced her to keep her eyes squeezed shut as she gently massaged her aching temples.

  “Oh, miss! You’re awake at last.”

  Startled by the unexpected sound of another’s voice, Helen’s eyes flew open to see a young girl at the foot of the bed. Confused, she blinked. Where was she? Strange, jumbled images flooded her head, and she moaned again. Dear lord, but her head hurt almost as much as her back. She moved stiffly to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Where am I?” Her voiced sounded so hoarse. It was almost a croak.

  “Melton House, miss. His Lordship asked that you be shown to the library by nine this morning.”

  Melton. Where had she heard that name before? Last night. She’d heard it last night when Madame Chantrel— Oh, dear God, it hadn’t been a nightmare. She really had been bought and sold. He’d bought her. Of all the images mixed up in her head, his face was the only one that wasn’t a blur.

  Tall and broad shouldered, he had stood out amidst the small crowd of men last night. Those black eyes of his, blazing with fire in the dim light. It had been as if he’d wanted to devour her. Helen swallowed hard as she remembered exactly why the man had bought her.

  “Come along now, miss, his lordship don’t like to be kept waiting.” The petite maid clucked as she urged Helen to her feet.

  “Lord Melton…this is his house?”

  “That it is, miss. Although the man does have his hands full what with all of his sisters living here with him. It’s a good thing his brothers have their own livings over near Bond Street.”

  “Is there a Lady Melton?” The moment she asked the question, she winced. If the man was married, it wouldn’t bring home a prize he’d won in a brothel auction.

  “Oh, heavens no, miss. His lordship don’t have the patience for women. He says he’ll never marry.” Busy shaking out a blue silk gown, the maid laughed then draped the dress over a beautifully carved, wood folding screen. “It’s a great pity though. Handsome man he is. And those eyes, mercy me, they’re enough to make a girl melt right where she stands.”

  Helen bit her lip. The maid was right. Lord Melton’s eyes were hypnotic. In the carriage last night, his eyes had caressed her the way a lover might. Then, as if he’d suddenly realized he’d revealed too much, he’d retreated behind a mask of indifference. But even in those brief moments, she’d seen a glimmer of what she hoped was amusement and kindness.

  “The earl is a real stickler for time, miss, so I’ll go get your breakfast while you freshen up. I’ve brought you one of Miss Louisa’s gowns. I’m sure it will fit you since the two of you are about the same size.”

  “Miss Louisa?” Helen used the heel of her palm to apply pressure to the spot just above the bridge of her nose. Lord, but her head throbbed like a church bell. It was as if Uncle Warren had beaten her senseless.

  “Yes, miss. She’s the youngest of the Rockwoods. And the most mischievous of the lot. His Lordship’s had a devil of a time with her over the last year.” The maid looked at a small watch pinned to her bodice. “Lord, love me. His lordship won’t be happy with me if I don’t have you downstairs in less than an hour. Go on now, freshen up and I’ll be back shortly with your breakfast.”

  Helen got out of bed as the girl darted from the room. For the first time since waking, she took in her surroundings. She liked the simplicity of the bedroom. White gauze draped softly from the bed’s canopy, its filmy transparency echoed in the window’s curtains. Next to the dressing screen stood a washstand, while a dressing table with a mirror reflected her image back at her.

  She grimaced at her tousled hair. Brushing out the knots would take time. To the right of the bed was a small fireplace with a marble mantle. Except for a small clock, the mantle was devoid of any ornamentation. The sight of the timepiece reminded her of how particular the maid had been about being on time. Clearly, the earl ran a precise household. Her mouth tightened with pessimism. A man who was concerned with time would most likely be devoted to rules. Rules that inflicted pain. It was the reason she’d fled Mayfield with Edward. That and Cousin Albert. She shuddered at the memory of her cousin. If it hadn’t been for Edward, she would have…

  “Dear God, Edward.”

  Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Sinking down onto the mattress, she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. How could she have forgotten her brother until now? Where was he? Had the earl sent for him? She needed to know Edward was safe.

  With a sharp movement, she sprang to her feet and hurried to the washstand. The cool water chilled her as it splashed over her skin. It was a vivid reminder of the icy fear sluicing through her veins. In short order, she was throwing her night rail over the wooden screen and retrieving the undergarments the maid had provided.

  As the silk chemise whispered over her shoulders, she waited for the fire to flare over her back. Despite the soft fabric, it scraped painfully at the fresh, vicious welts on her back. The marks had even appalled Madame Chantrel. At the time, Helen thought the woman was being kind. Now she was certain the woman had only been concerned that the wounds might detract from the price she expected Helen to bring.

  Swallowing the urge to cry out from the pain the garment inflicted, Helen clenched her teeth and waited for the fire to subside into a familiar raw throb. A quiet knock on the door made her jump, her pain ebbing slightly as dread slashed through her. Had Lord Melton come for her himself? The anticipation skimming through her body shocked her.

  Dear lord, perhaps her uncle had been right about her all along. Helen whirled around to see a young woman step into the room. The girl, her dark brown hair gathered up on top of her head in style that flattered her heart shaped face, tilted her head and smiled.

  “I thought I’d come help you dress since I know Mary has gone to fetch you breakfast. It’s Helen, isn’t it?” The young woman didn’t wait for Helen’s nod. Instead, she smiled cheerfully and brushed past Helen, carelessly grabbing the blue dress off the folding screen. “I’m Louisa. Or at least I will be until Sebastian learns I’m here and not at the family estate in Scotland. It won’t surprise me in the least to hear him call me something quite different.”

  With a merry laugh, Louisa gathered up the skirt of the gown and moved forward to slip the silk dress over Helen’s head. Before Helen could even object, Louisa spun her around do up the button on the back of the gown. The girl’s audible gasp echoed over her shoulder, causing Helen to grow rigid. Be
cause the whip marks were still so tender, she’d forgone wearing the corset the maid had left her. From the other girl’s shocked outburst, the ugly wounds had to be clearly visible through the thin chemise covering her back.

  “Who did this to you,” Louisa exclaimed with suppressed fury.

  The question didn’t surprise her. Not looking at the young woman, Helen shook her head. She had no desire to explain the circumstances she and Edward had left. Uncle Warren had contacts among members of London’s society. The slightest bit of information could easily lead him to where she was.

  “It is of little consequence,” she said with stoicism.

  “Little consequence,” the girl behind her bit out. “I think you should have your head examined. These marks are barely healed. Have you had a doctor look at these?”

  “There’s no need,” Helen said quietly as she reached behind her to button the dress.

  A gentle hand squeezed hers as Louisa pushed Helen’s hands aside and resumed closing the back of the gown. The silence hanging in the air was heavy with Louisa’s unspoken questions, and Helen trembled. She wanted to forget the past. Forget the way Cousin Albert constantly tried to trap her in a dark corner to steal a kiss or worse. She shuddered at the unpleasant memory. Then there was the sting of her uncle’s riding crop against her back. She didn’t want to remember any of it. Determined to avoid any further questions, Helen turned to face the other woman.

  “Thank you for the loan of your dress, it’s very generous of you.”

  “I’m pleased we’re about the same size,” Louisa said. The young woman’s voice reflected a compassion Helen had longed for so often over the past twelve years. Louisa smiled at her. “Besides, it gave me the excuse to meet you. Everyone is in a dither over your mysterious arrival last night. Polly, my maid, was all agog about how romantic it was.”