The Countess and the Rake

by Georgette Brown

  He wondered if the Countess would have been similarly titillated. Would she be mortified or aroused that a passerby should look up and see her being fucked out the window? Both. Something about the Countess signaled to him that she was not as staid and boring as one might first believe. She was simply a field unplowed, a trail untraveled.

  The image of the Countess being pummeled by his ardor as she hung halfway out his window made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

  “What business had you with my sister-in-law?” Sarah repeated.

  “Business that does not concern you,” he answered. “My dear, I think it unwise of you to come here.”

  She bristled.

  “And safest if we conclude our liaison. I have no wish to tarnish your marital prospects.”

  He rose to his feet.

  “But–”

  As he pulled her to her feet, he kissed her hand. “May our families put aside their differences, as we two have.”

  “But–”

  He led her to the door whilst she was still in shock.

  “Until that day, Lady Sarah.”

  “But–”

  In another moment he would have her out the door and he could return to this intriguing fantasy of the Countess, but just then his brother appeared.

  “Lady Sarah!” Robert greeted in surprise.

  Sarah flushed. Turning to Phineas, she attempted her most formal tone, “Good day to you, Lord Barclay.”

  “And to you,” Phineas returned.

  “It is the Lady Lowry that I asked you to speak with,” Robert said when Sarah had left.

  “I am aware,” Phineas replied, heading to the sideboard in the drawing room. His thoughts of the Countess would have to wait.

  “And? Have you spoken with her?”

  “Have you five hundred pounds about you? Of course you have. You were always the miser of the family.”

  “What for? Is that what they propose to charge us for tunneling on their land?”

  Phineas handed his brother a glass of sherry. “Take the five hundred pounds and issue it to the Orphan Asylum for Girls in St. Giles.”

  “Orphan asylum? Phineas, what are you about? Is that what the Countess demands from us?”

  “No. It is your foray into philanthropy.”

  “My...? Phineas, explain yourself. Have you spoken with Lady Lowry?”

  “Not of the mine.”

  “But you have spoken with her?”

  Settling back into his chair with his own glass, Phineas recalled the rather enjoyable conversation with the Countess.

  “Yes,” Phineas relented. “You will be pleased to know that she now loathes me somewhat less.”

  “Jolly good. Then you will broach the subject of the mine when you next meet?”

  “Perhaps. I have not yet won her over. My remark about her dismal selection in riding clothes put her off.”

  “Your...?”

  Robert looked at his wine and downed it nearly one gulp. He shook his head. “I shall never understand you, Phineas.”

  “It would seem as if we were from different families instead of brothers,” Phineas sympathized.

  “I would I had never been ‘adopted!’” Robert retorted. “There is no end to the farce in our family. First you–”

  “Ah, dear Mama and Papa were first.”

  “And now Georgina and this wretched crim con of hers. Abigail wants me to escort Georgina to Vauxhall. Says it would do much to cheer her as they have a menagerie. But my wife will not be seen in her company. Perhaps you could...”

  Phineas considered the challenge of going from Vauxhall to Madame Botreaux’s. He had not yet missed a night at the Ballroom and had no intention of starting.

  Seeing his brother’s hesitation, Robert continued, “For bloody sake, Phineas, can you not put yourself to use?”

  Phineas started, the words of the Countess ringing in his head. “Tell Georgina I cannot stay for long.”

  Robert nodded in gratitude. “Do you think the Countess will allow us access of the Lowry land?”

  “I think so.”

  “I was right to have you talk with her then. Why was Lady Sarah here?”

  “You have no wish to know.”

  Robert sighed. Taking up his hat and gloves, he rose to his feet. “I hope you are not attempting to seduce the Countess of Lowry? I have no desire to incur the wrath of a Farrington if we are to tunnel beneath their land.”

  Phineas thought of the anger Sarah would no doubt experience when she emerged from her shock.

  “I thought you intended I should use my arts of persuasion?” he replied.

  Robert opened his mouth, but no words came to him. Phineas watched his brother depart, wondering when the poor chap would finally master the skill of ignoring his older brother. He finished off his wine, then proceeded upstairs to prepare for a night at the Ballroom.

  LADY ATHENA FOUND HEPHAESTUS waiting for her in naked glory, per the instructions she had left for him. She had to pause to admire his sculpted body. He stood in full confidence of his nakedness, and she was reminded how unlike other men he was. But she refused to be taken by his attributes. She would not allow herself to tarry with him.

  Tonight she wore her black ensemble with black fingerless gloves that went past her elbow. Tonight he would experience the strength of Lady Athena. Tonight he would not dare trifle with her.

  “Pleasure yourself, Hephaestus,” she told him.

  Wordlessly, he gripped his shaft and coaxed it to hardness, all the while staring at her. She allowed him this impudence and even teased him by playing with one of her nipples, which protruded just above the top of her corset. She pinched her nipple, pulled it, twisted it. His member lengthened quickly in response. Striding over, she pressed a finger upon his shaft to feel its hardness. Her finger slid over the ridge of a vein and toward the swollen head.

  “Lay down,” she said.

  He did as told upon the chaise. Walking over to the candelabra, she plucked out a candle and held it over him.

  “You are to stay still,” she instructed before tilting the candle.

  The hot wax fell onto his stomach. He sucked in his breath but made no sound. Hovering the candle above his left nipple, she dripped more of the wax onto him. She covered his other nipple with wax. As she waited for the wax to melt, she kissed him hard, forcing her tongue into his mouth, imposing her will upon him. She pulled her lips away when he began to respond to her kiss.

  “You are mine, Hephaestus,” she whispered near his ear. “Mine to do as I desire.”

  Moving towards his legs, she pressed his erection level with one hand and poured the wax upon it. His hands clenched, and the chains rattled. Smiling, she returned the candle.

  “Thank you, Lady Athena.”

  “You have done well, Hephaestus,” she said. “As a reward, you may taste my cunnie.”

  Straddling his chest, she lowered herself down upon him. She was already wet there, and he would have much to lick. He ran his tongue along her folds, then closed his mouth about her clit and sucked. Gertie closed her eyes and moaned. It was just the right amount of pressure to make her crave for more. Laying her chest along his body, she took the uncovered part of his shaft into her mouth. Reaching below his shaft, she began to fondle him roughly. She pulled at his sack and squeezed his scrotum. His legs jerked at her touch, but he did not disrupt the rhythm of his tongue darting at her clit.

  He was skilled, taking the time to find her most sensitive spots. He licked with precision, and she found it difficult to concentrate on her own task of delaying pleasure. His motions stoked the fire in her belly, and she was tempted to buck her hips against his face, but she did not want to disturb the delight his tongue was swirling in her quim. The yearning between her legs stretched for its desired release.

  No.

  Jerking herself from the pool of pleasure, she lifted herself away from him.

  “Let me finish, my lady,” he said.

  Her breath haggard,
she rose to her feet and looked down at him. Her wetness glistened upon his face.

  “It will not take long,” he added.

  That was precisely why she had to stop.

  “You like the taste of cunnie, do you?” she asked.

  “Its nectar be more delectable than wine, Lady Athena.”

  “Do you worship the cunnie, Hephaestus?”

  “I prefer it to any church.”

  His words reminded her of her earlier conversation with Lord Barclay.

  “It is a divine thing, Lady Athena,” he continued. “Yours is divine. Your swollen nub of pleasure protruding from supple, pink folds called to me. I would have worshiped it with my tongue, my mouth, my nose, my fingers–”

  “Your nose?”

  A corner of his mouth curled. “Your quim has a luscious scent, Lady Athena. I enjoy using any part of me that is at my disposal, especially as my hands are bound.”

  Gertie curled her toes inside her boot. Her insides churned with curiosity. Her body wanted more of his touch.

  “How do you like to spend, Hephaestus?”

  “Wrapped inside the chapel of your desire,” he quipped.

  She picked up her riding crop and let it touch against his inside thigh.

  “Lady Athena,” he added.

  She peeled off the wax that had hardened upon his shaft and obtained from her table a small vial. She poured the contents into her hand, then rubbed the slick salve onto his erection. The liquid seemed to warm against his flesh. She smoothed her hands along his length. He shuddered when her palm swept over the swollen head of his member. His control made her womanhood pulse. Most men she observed had not the fortitude.

  Reaching for the candle, she poured another measure of the hot wax just below his navel, perilously close to the tip of his rod. Her other hand wrapped itself tightly about his shaft.

  Her hands slid over his length, coaxing the heat churning within his groin. He tried to quell the rising desire.

  “Would you like to spend, my Hephaestus?”

  “Yes,” he said drily.

  “Do you feel that you deserve to spend?”

  “Not till my lady has spent.”

  She studied him carefully, then began to tug at his rod more forcefully as she dripped the candle upon his thighs. Tossing the candle away, she straddled his hips and pressed her quim onto the base of his shaft. Rocking her hips, she glided herself along his length. Her wetness there eased the motions. The nearness of her most prized flesh to his member made him breath in sharply. He closed his eyes to regain command.

  “Do you hope to ravish me, Hephaestus?”

  He opened his eyes to stare at her. God, yes.

  “And see how close you are,” she said as she teased him by sweeping her flesh close to the head of his shaft, but she would allow no penetration. “Do you imagine how I would feel?”

  Again he closed his eyes. He was imagining how her inner folds would feel against him. He imagined the heat of being inside her.

  “Would it feel hot and wet? Would you enjoy it?”

  He attempted to shut out her words.

  “Would you take me hard?”

  She ground herself against him. His desire was at the boiling point. He could not stop himself from the thought of pushing her up against the wall and taking her from behind.

  “However my lady wishes to be ravished,” he said earnestly.

  But before he realized it, she had pushed herself off of him. She encased his member in her mouth and sucked hard. Her words, coupled with the sensation bursting upon his shaft, made the dam falter. She took her mouth off him in time for him to shoot his seed all over himself. His climax wracked his entire body, sending tremors through his legs. When at last he felt himself settling back to earth, he saw her smile in triumph.

  Chapter Eight

  “I BELIEVE SHE THINKS me your wife—or your mistress,” Georgina said with a shudder.

  Phineas looked through his quizzing glass at the raven-haired beauty standing next to the statue of Handel on the South Grand Walk at Vauxhall. Her frown as she gazed upon Georgina became a demure smile as she turned her attention to him.

  “Yes, I think she would have more sympathy if she knew your true relation to me,” Phineas replied as he admired the woman’s slender sloping shoulders.

  “She’s very beautiful,” Georgina sniffed. “I think she would satisfy your predilections.”

  “All women of beauty satisfy me.”

  Phineas watched as the raven took the arm of a redcoat likely to be her husband. They passed out of the South Walk and into the hall.

  “It is a relief to have you back, Phineas. Robert—or his wife, rather—can be exceedingly tiresome. She would have him disavow us as his family.”

  “Doubtless he would be better situated if he did. We are none of us an asset—you, Abigail, and I.”

  Georgina sighed. “Am I so terrible because I married in error?”

  He patted her hand. “Not at all. I ought be grateful that some of the disdain towards me has been averted by your crim con.”

  “They may disdain me all they wish,” she replied with a scowl. “I am tired of hiding from their contemptuous gazes. I suppose they envy me my affair. Those tied to their ugly, wizened husbands abhor that I have found a man who holds me in as much affection and admiration as I him. They loathe that I shall soon be a free woman while they are imprisoned in their miserable marriages.”

  “Is this man someone you shall find happiness with, m’dear?”

  “As soon as Parliament approves the divorce, we shall wed.”

  “From one marriage into another, Georgina?”

  “I have not your aversion to the institution. Shall you never marry, Phineas?”

  He wondered, as he studied the middle of the Barclay sisters, if her quick diversion of topic reflected a slight lack of confidence on her part. He would not pursue the matter tonight but determined to himself that he would learn more of this paramour of hers.

  “Marriage is a useless institution for me.”

  “Have you no wish for an heir?”

  “Robert is the one who must need worry of an heir. I am still a dead man.”

  “I think we come across your admirer once more,” Georgina remarked as they entered into the hall where the paintings of Thomas Gainsborough hung. “And she appears to be sans her husband.”

  Phineas discerned the raven to be about four and twenty years of age, married for what he believed to be a short period. She stared blatantly at him with cool blue eyes.

  “I will amuse myself with the paintings,” Georgina sighed, “that you may have a word with her.”

  He inclined his head. “You know me too well, m’dear.”

  After Georgina left his side, he made his way to the raven. In her gown of crystal blue and diamond chandelier earrings, she shined bright in the dim lighting in the hall. The exhilaration of the sport simmered rather than flared in his veins, but he approached her almost by habit.

  “How unwise of your husband to leave such a vision to fend for herself,” he remarked when he came upon her.

  Her bosom with its two orbs pertly pushed above her bodices heaved at his audacity, but she chose to simply correct him. “That was not husband but Sergeant Ames, a friend of the family. My husband is Major Summers, aide-de-camp to the Duke of York.”

  “And he is unwise to have left you,” Phineas reiterated.

  “His service often calls him from my side.”

  She flashed him an alluring smile.

  “If I were your husband, I should have left you in more diligent hands than this Sergeant Ames.”

  “I sent him away to fetch me a glass of lemonade.”

  The minx. Phineas smiled. “I knew that you were a woman I could appreciate.”

  “Tell me how it is that I have not seen you here before?”

  Phineas looked over at Georgina, who was being rebuffed in her attempts to find a place to sit. One woman had an empty spot next to h
er but quickly covered the area as Georgina approached. Another couple had turned the other direction upon seeing her.

  “You are new to London,” he appraised of the raven.

  “Yes, this is my first season in town, but I am often here at Vauxhall. The lights here are wondrous, and the entertainment beyond the pale.”

  She spoke of her favorite performers and was describing the singer set to perform tonight when Phineas spotted the Countess of Lowry. She stood beneath one of the archways with Alexander, who scowled something at her before leaving her side. She wore a silk gown lined with ribbons and lace trim about the neckline, covering what he considered to be a most pleasing bosom. Her feathered headdress did not quite match her gown, but somehow he found her more appealing than usual.

  “And I am quite excited to see the balloon ascension,” the raven was saying.

  Phineas noted Georgina had secured a bench all to herself. She sat staring at the portraiture. He decided he would conclude his tête-à-tête with the raven and return to Georgina, but to his surprise, he saw that Lady Lowry had taken a seat next to his sister. Lady Lowry spoke first, Georgina answered, and the two began a conversation.

  “Oh dear,” the raven groaned, “I think Sergeant Ames has accomplished his task.”

  A young man in scarlet uniform was indeed approaching them.

  “Phillipa Summers,” the raven said. “I think I know not your name?”

  “Phineas Barclay,” he replied with a bow over her hand.

  He took his leave before the redcoat reached them. With the entry of the Countess, he had lost interest in the raven. If he were to be assured of arriving at Madame Botreaux’s in timely fashion, he would need to depart Vauxhall in twenty minutes. He had no wish to disappoint Lady Athena—not when he had victory in his sights. But the arrival of Lady Lowry was too tempting.

  He made his way towards the Countess.

  GERTIE WENT TO SIT beside Mrs. Georgina Westmoreland. Perhaps because Alexander told her that she should shun the woman and Gertie had no desire to accommodate her husband. Since returning from her evening with Hephaestus, she had felt giddy, daring, almost fearless. Over and over her body had relived the delicious sensations he had evoked. She had not wanted to pull away, but what she had done was wrong. Never before had she been so forward, so devilish. But Hephaestus evoked qualities she would never have guessed to have presided within her. She had wanted to spend, desperately. But spending would be the ultimate act of infidelity.