“Then, my dear,” Amanda continued hurriedly, “it is up to you. If you cannot seduce him whilst the coast is clear, then I wash my hands of you, my love. Truly, you are more than capable.”
Judith shook her head in mock despair. “How I ever allowed you to inveigle me into agreeing to his madcap idea I do not know. You’re supposed to be married and settled down. I thought all your devilment was used up with La Bella Isabella and her dancing girls, and that now you are a sober matron.”
“Oh no.” Amanda’s eyes twinkled. “Not all my devilment, for how dull that would be. I may be married, but I swear I will never be a matron. I am thankful that nor would Harry wish me to. He would find that very dull sport. But this is about you, my love, so, are you sure you know what you are doing?”
What a leading question, Judith thought. “Sure, not at all. Understand? Even less. Determined, oh yes.” How to explain what was driving her? “For this is what could be termed as a last-ditch attempt. If after this he continues to deny what we both know is between us, I move on. Three years of beating my head, being shunned by the ton for my eccentricities, is enough. He looks, takes, and enjoys, or he rues the day. Forever.” She kissed her friend on the cheek and drew her cloak around her. “Now if I wish to do all this, I must go. I have much to do and little enough time. Please, Amanda, wish me well.”
Fighting words, Judith thought a few days later, as she sat in her well-sprung carriage, a hot brick at her feet. Her hands were snug in her muff, and a plaid blanket kept the damp December chill off her. She watched the countryside roll by as she thought of the many unpleasant scenarios she might soon be facing. With the mist rolling in, the December day was gloomy, and it matched her thoughts. Judith shivered; she was glad of her fur-lined pelisse and elegant but practical hat.
Across the carriage, her abigail and maid sat side by side chattering quietly to each other, excited at the unexpected visit to a house described as a stately pile in many a guide book. Judith could but hope their stay was long enough for them all to enjoy it. She had worries that once Stephen knew of her deception she would be ejected and sent to make the long trek southward, Christmas or not. How ignominious that would be.
The journey to Yorkshire had taken several days. One reason, Amanda had told her, she had ensured Stephen would not receive his missive informing him of the change of venue in time to stop them.
Judith had planned her journey well. Meticulous in her attention to detail, each luncheon stop, every bedchamber and private parlor, all had been booked and her presence acknowledged. Judith believed in leaving nothing to chance. So far all had gone to plan. Now, as her journey almost reached its end she could but pray it would continue to do so. Once there, she had four days to convince him of her sincerity, and hope he accepted it and her. She had long decided that only Stephen could introduce her to the delights of the flesh. If he declined, it gave her four days to seduce him before Amanda arrived. Quite how she would do so, Judith had not yet decided.
The rest of the guests were due to reach Carrland Hall a day later, and then, if she still remained untouched and alone, Amanda knew she would have failed. The thought was untenable.
As far as Stephen knew, all his guests would arrive then, including her. She had the uncomfortable and worrying thought that he might not be in residence. Amanda had assured her he would be nowhere else with guests expected so soon, but now with their meeting almost upon her, Judith worried. Little frissons of heat danced over her skin, and her fingers tingled.
A milestone on the side of the road showed her they had reached the coaching village of Boroughbridge. It was but a few miles from there to Carrland Hall, Stephen’s Yorkshire estate. On discussing her route with Amanda it had been suggested a brief stop for something to eat, and to refresh herself before they reached the Hall, would be appropriate, for she did not want to appear before Stephen looking anything but her best. Once more she marveled at Amanda’s cleverness. Or she hoped, her cleverness.
“Sarah, Cissy, I have bespoke a parlor for luncheon, and a bedchamber to freshen up,” she said to her maids. “My friends speak high of the landlord here, so we should be sure of something to warm us for the last part of our journey. If we do not tarry, we will reach our destination well before nightfall. It is but two hours drive away.”
Sarah, the senior of the two, nodded. “Then my lady, let us go inside, and seek some warmth for you, and I will also enquire after another hot brick to warm you when we continue our journey. I can think of nothing better.”
Judith nodded and allowed her coachman to hand her down. She could think of several much more interesting things to warm her, but felt it was neither the right time, place, nor person, to impart such news.
Once inside, her pelisse was taken from her and hung close to the roaring fire, to ward off any chill to the lining. Judith allowed herself to be seated near to the welcoming blaze, with a steaming cup of chocolate in her hands. Behind her, the table was prepared for her luncheon. Idly listening to the sounds of crockery moved and places set for their repast, she pondered what might happen on her arrival at Stephen’s home. Would he be very angry? Could she use that emotion to her favor? Not for the first time, Judith wondered if she had made a grave mistake in listening to Amanda. She should have remembered some of the previous scrapes they had gotten into at Amanda’s instigation. Across the room her maids giggled, oblivious to their mistress’s wayward thoughts.
“I wonder if there will be any handsome young footmen. I fancy someone tall and handsome to cuddle up to,” Cissy whispered, one eye checking to see if Judith was listening.
Judith chose to pretend she wasn’t.
“If Lord Morrisey is there, his valet Griffin is such a one,” Sarah replied. “I wonder why my lady has not told us of her fellow guests? Surely she must know, as ‘twas to have been at the Duke’s before the plans were changed? Which I might say would have been much less of a journey.”
“Ah well,” Judith heard Cissy answer in her warm comfortable burr. “It means we have the pickings for longer, if you get my meaning. No one comes so far for a few days.”
Judith felt guilty; her journey had taken a considerable amount of planning and re-planning. Her horses had been sent ahead and her luggage packed, all within a few days. Her staff had worked feverishly to do her bidding and she had dragged her two loyal servants away from all the festivities they could have enjoyed. And for what?
All she could hope was that the ‘what’ was worth it.
“Come ladies.” She left the dregs of her chocolate. “Let us eat and be on our way. We should be there well before nightfall.”
***
Oh how to wish for the moon and get the opposite. The snow began almost as they left the final few straggling houses of Boroughbridge behind. The last urchin had waved and no longer followed the coach waiting for alms. The road was deserted, no other traffic venturing out. At first, small gentle flakes fluttered down and melted before they had scarce landed. However, as Judith gazed out of the carriage window, they soon became larger. Fast and furious, they settled on the ground, the carriage roof, and Judith saw to her dismay, the face of her coachman, with no concession.
She seriously wondered if they would reach their destination unscathed.
Cissy, young and town-bred, looked out of the window and screeched. Sarah, who was older and a country lass, slapped her soundly. “Get a grip, ‘tis but a covering. We will have no trouble in reaching the hall. As our lady says, it is but a couple of hours away. Compose yourself. What good is a private servant who goes to pieces at the first tiny setback?”
Judith listened to the admonishments and watched as Sarah’s words calmed Cissy. She herself was not so insouciant. Sarah was born and bred in a country much gentler than the rugged splendor of this area, and would have never seen how snow could, on occasion, fall at speed and settle at depth. Therefore Sarah could not imagine any terrors. Judith, who had lived as a child in the hunting shires, had no such illusions, and th
at was nowhere near as desolate as this. She had vivid recollections of one occasion as a child, when she and her parents had spent an unexpected week at her father’s hunting lodge due to the inclement weather. To her young mind, the first few days had been fun, the rest one long struggle to have heat and food. She never wished to experience such hardships again.
Outside on the box, John-coachman was encouraging the horses to continue, with words, not the whip, for which Judith was grateful. She wondered how much farther they had to go, and could only hope it was not far. Dusk was fast approaching, and she was sure the still-falling snow prevented any of the landmarks that should show their way from being seen. If all had been well, this was the time they should have been arriving at the hall, not still having a considerable distance to cover.
At last the horses turned between tall imposing gates, upon which she could see inscribed the welcome words ‘Carrland Hall.’ She peered out of the carriage window to see a gray-stoned building on her right. If they had indeed arrived at the correct driveway, this was the chapel for the estate Amanda had told her about. They therefore had but a mile to go to their destination.
A sharp bend and a steep incline, both mentioned by Amanda as places to beware, were upon them. Judith knew better than to lean out and remind her coachman of the directions given to them. He needed no distractions.
Distractions or not, she felt the coach begin to slide.
“My lady, it’s tipping. Hold on tight,” Sarah said, her voice urgent.
On the seat opposite, Cissy grabbed hold of Sarah, her eyes wide and scared. In all truth Judith could reprimand neither of them. Her own body was taut with worry.
John-coachman was swearing under his breath. It was this more than anything that brought home to Judith the predicament they were in.
“Hold on m’lady, we’re a going.” His voice was harsh. “I’m holding the horses, brace yourselves.”
That, of course, was a given. “Cissy, Sarah,” Judith said, her voice high with the urgency of her message, “I fear you are correct. Take a tight grip onto the straps. We may spill.”
No sooner were her words uttered than she felt the coach tilt. For one heart-stopping moment she thought John-coachman would keep it righted, and then her world spun.
The screams of the cattle mixed with those of her servants as their axis spun. Judith saw stars and felt her head where her feet should be. There was a sound, not unlike that of a cannon she had heard when Napoleon’s defeat had been celebrated. It was followed by a grating noise that set her teeth on edge, as when a pencil was used without care on a slate.
As the world settled, albeit upside down, Judith shivered. It might be the weather, they might be within the grounds of Carrland Hall, but it seemed it was an omen. One which was not in her favor. The North Riding of Yorkshire was said to be wild, and could, in places, be dangerous. Who could forget Dick Turpin? Even though he had been hanged at York Gaol almost a century earlier, no sensible traveler was to be found abroad after darkness fell. The carriage lurched again, and her companions both yelled as the lamp swayed wildly and went out.
Judith’s hand slipped out of the leather strap she had been certain she was holding, and then her skirts covered her face.
Such an ignominious position, she decided as her head stopped spinning.
The hand that fondled her arse seemed not to agree with her.
CHAPTER THREE
Stephen sat in his library and stared at the dancing flames in the grate. Outside the snow fell steady and unstopping, obliterating the garden, shrouding the trees with a cape of white. If it continued thus, he guessed it would be several inches deep before morning. Perhaps, he mused, if it did keep going in that vein, his guests would not arrive the following week, and he might have a quiet Christmas season. He shuddered at the thought the opposite might occur and once ensconced, the weather would ensure they would be unable to leave. That he perceived would be unbearable. He had decided his attitude towards Judith must be distant, and he had to ensure never to be alone with her. He might be able to hold out against her charms and wiles within company; he was not so sure his resolve would hold in private. Why was he so determined to do the honorable thing? A lesser man would have taken what was offered without blinking. Sad to say, he was not a lesser man. It occurred to him he no longer included Lady Mallins in any of his equations.
There was a rap at the door, and it was opened even before his command to enter was completed.
“My lord,” Thwaites, his major domo, spoke hurriedly. “There has been an accident near the main gates. A carriage has overturned. The gamekeeper saw it all as he returned home. He asks we send help, the snow is thick and he is not the best with prime cattle, as you know. I have taken the liberty to send notice to the grooms, but feel perhaps…?” One eyebrow rose.
“I will, of course, go at once,” Stephen replied as he stood and moved towards the doorway. “Please bring my greatcoat and dispatch someone to the village for Dr. Soresby. Do we know why a carriage was approaching? We are not expecting visitors for several days yet.”
Thwaites shook his head as he helped Stephen into his overcoat and handed him his hat. “I couldn’t say, my lord. I know no more than I have divulged.”
“Ah, well, I will no doubt soon find out.” He opened the door, to be met by a groom and two horses.
Within seconds Stephen was making his cautious way up the drive, cursing the fact that the snow nigh on blinded him.
“’Tis unconscious bad, my lord,” his groom spoke in a loud voice. “Who would wish to be about on such a night?”
“I know not, but it will not be long before I do,” Stephen spoke, his tone grim. He was not best pleased at having to risk his staff and horses in such weather, all for an unknown and unbidden visitor. “If we ever reach them. This drive is dangerous. Take care.”
The coach was dark against the brilliance of the snow-covered landscape. Even through the storm he could see it, and hear the terrified cries of the horses, mingling with the shrill screams of females. Stephen cursed. Silly women, no doubt lost; they had no right being abroad on such a day. He ignored the fact that the storm had surprised them all. His horse slipped, and he had no time to think of anything else except to concentrate on guiding his mount.
By the time he reached the vehicle, two of his grooms had begun to soothe the horses and tend to the coachman, now sitting in the snow, his head in his hands. He looked up as Stephen approached him.
“My lady will not be best pleased with me, but my lord I could not stop the slide,” he said earnestly. “Indeed, if we had known the weather would be so bad we would have not stopped in Boroughbridge but pressed on, and arrived several hours ago before the storm struck.”
“Yes, I would imagine so.” Stephen paused. “This is your destination?” he asked, suspicion uppermost in his mind. Lady?” He walked to the carriage door now uppermost, its window to the sky, and glanced back at the red-faced coachman. He was certain he knew that face. He searched his mind but could not fathom where from. It was, however, well-known, and not because of his sister.
“Why Lady Judith, of course. Your guest.” The coachman sounded perturbed. “We were expected today, were we not?”
Why am I not surprised? Harry needs to put Amanda over his knee and spank her until her arse is red and her… He groaned; that was too much supposed information. Ruthlessly he turned his mind away from the thought of Judith in such a position with him, to the matter in hand.
Stephen glanced at his head groom, who, with a nod of understanding, handed him a lantern. Its warm glow cast long shadows across the snow.
“Of course,” Stephen said to the coachman, urbane and all gentleman. The coachman still looked worried. He should have guessed something like this was afoot the minute he got his sister’s missive. “But when his weather set in, I thought maybe you would wait it out somewhere. No matter. Robinson, Pickering,” he addressed the two other grooms. “Stand ready to receive the maidservants, I s
ee my coach approaching, do take them back at once. Someone inform Chef and Mrs. Clegg our guests have almost succeeded in reaching their destination. Ask Mrs. Clegg to ensure Lady Judith’s room is ready to receive her, and have hot baths awaiting her and her maids. They will need them. Let Dr. Soresby check they have taken no harm. I will help the lady.” It was only once his grooms bowed and moved to one side he realized how his words could be misconstrued. Ah well, ‘tis too late to rephrase my words.
With one wrench, he threw the door back and hauled himself down into the coach. The sight he saw would, on any other occasion, be the cause of great merriment. Now it made his cock ache and the hairs on his arms stand on end.
The maidservants seemed nigh on useless, and both sat on what had been the side and was now the floor of the coach huddled together. It was but a moment’s work to hand them out, and turn to the third person in the coach.
Or what he could see of her.
Why on earth had her maidservants not helped her?
Stephen gave in to temptation. He stretched out and caressed the perfect globes of the milk-white arse presented to him. His fingers ached to sample the delights he could imagine between the delicate curls that covered her quim. He nobly resisted the urge to venture further, but fondled her arse, and circled the perfect rosette of her anus. Even that small degree of intimacy made his cock rise up and demand attention. Thank the lord for the decrees of the ton that stiff breeches were not de rigueur in all situations. He was pleased to be wearing pantaloons, even if they were frowned upon as fast by some of the upper echelon of the ton.
A noise not unlike a kettle about to boil was coming from under the skirts. It seemed the lady was not amused.
With an inward smile of satisfaction, Stephen used his fingers to tease for a few seconds longer, squashing his innermost desires to take things a lot further. Judith, for he was sure it was she, was upside down; her skirts hung over her upper body and shielded him from her view.
The Perfect Gift Page 2
