A Most Improper Proposal

by Gail Whitiker

  But lately, he had stopped troubling himself to look away. Now when Desiree looked up, it was to find him watching her with a boldness she found both disconcerting and frightening. For that reason, she had begun taking pains not to be in the same room with him. When she knew that he was visiting Elizabeth—which he seemed to be doing with increasing regularity—Desiree kept to her room. If he arrived prior to the dinner hour, she made sure that she was in the company of one of the other teachers, most often Helen de Coverdale, with whom she finally shared her concerns.

  'But why will you not speak to Mrs Guarding about it?' Helen whispered as they stood together in Desiree's classroom at the end of the day. 'I am sure she would be most upset if she knew that Lord Perry was making improper advances towards you.'

  'But that is just the problem, Helen, he hasn't made any advances towards me yet,' Desiree admitted. 'It is simply the way he looks at me.

  Besides, who is to say that Mrs Guarding would believe me if I were to tell her?'

  'Why would she not?'

  'She might believe that I was imagining it. Or worse, that I had somehow encouraged his attentions myself.'

  Helen glanced at her in astonishment. 'How can you even suggest such a thing, Desiree? You have been here for over six years and in all that time there has never been a whisper of scandal about you. Why do you think Mrs Guarding would suddenly believe that you were encouraging a gentleman's attentions?'

  Desiree smiled sadly. 'Perhaps because I have been here for six years and there has never been a whisper of scandal about me. Perhaps she thinks that as another birthday approaches, I might decide to cast aside discretion for one reckless taste of impropriety.'

  'Tosh, I do not believe that for a moment,' Helen asserted. 'You are a model of propriety, Desiree. You would never do such a thing, and we both know that you have had opportunity to.'

  At Helen's words, a memory flashed into Desiree's mind; the memory of a handsome face, a masculine voice, and the most improper suggestion it had whispered. It was a memory which had come to her more than once during the past year, and it was one which—Desiree was embarrassed to admit—had caused her more than a fleeting moment of regret.

  Helen was the only person in the world to whom she had confided the details of her meeting with the handsome stranger. And it was from Helen that Desiree had learned that Sebastian Moore was actually Viscount Buckworth, a noted rake and man about town. From her friend, Desiree had learned that Lord Buckworth was a wealthy gentleman with a fine house in London and a large estate in the south of Kent.

  But she had also learned that he was a man who enjoyed the company of women. It seemed that he had never been seriously attached to any one woman, but that he had kept a string of beautiful young mistresses, all of whom had enjoyed his generosity both during and after their association. And while Helen had been astonished to learn that Lord Buckworth had made Desiree such a proposal, she had been equally practical in her assessment of it.

  'It is only natural that your first reaction would have been shock—and that your immediate response would have been to turn it down,' Helen had said at the time. 'After all, we have been raised to believe that marriage is the ultimate goal of any well-bred young woman, and that to be a courtesan is the worst possible thing which could befall us. And yet, I wonder if in truth it would really have been all that bad.'

  At Desiree's shocked exclamation, Helen had smiled her lovely smile and lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. 'Only think of the freedom you would have enjoyed, Desiree. Especially when compared to the life you live now. You would have had a fine house to live in and servants to attend you. You would have had beautiful clothes and jewels to wear, and you would have been seen on the arm of a handsome and charming gentleman. You would have been able to go to the opera and masquerade balls, and even to the museums and libraries you love so much.'

  'But I would have been his...whore!' Desiree had cried, blushing as she had stumbled over the word. 'I would have been forced to...give him my body in exchange for an opulent lifestyle that might end at any time. Indeed, I should think that with a man like Lord Buckworth, the future would be very precarious indeed. He likely changes his mistresses as frequently as he changes his cravat.'

  'Ah, but think of the pleasures you would have enjoyed whilst you were under his protection, Desiree,' Helen had said, surprising Desiree with the note of envy in her voice. 'You would have had the freedom to walk about town during the day, and to visit the pleasure gardens by night. You would have had shops to browse in and amusements to exclaim over. You might even have been able to go riding with him, had he thought to provide you with a suitable mount.'

  Desiree had thrown up her hands in despair. 'Yes, but I would have been...a fallen woman, Helen. A creature despised by society.'

  'And are we as teachers thought of so very highly by society now?'

  The question had stopped Desiree dead. She hadn't had an answer then, nor did she have one now. It had been an extremely disturbing revelation to say the least.

  'Speaking of your birthday—' Helen said softly now, 'I have something for you.' She dug into a hidden pocket in her gown and pulled out a small box. 'Happy birthday, dear Desiree.'

  Desiree looked down at the gift in Helen's hand and felt her eyes fill with tears. 'Oh, Helen, there was no need—'

  'Of course there was,' Helen whispered. 'But it is not so very much. Just a little something I made for you, so there is no need to cry. Oh dear, and there is the bell for dinner.'

  Desiree sighed. When Mrs Guarding rang the bell, woe betide anyone who did not heed its calling. But because of the time she and Helen had spent talking, there was not enough time for her to go up to her room and safely tuck her present away. Nor had she pockets in her gown like Helen.

  'Why don't you put it in the slate cupboard?' Helen suggested. 'You can always come back for it after dinner.'

  'Yes, of course,' Desiree said with relief. 'No one will be likely to look for it there.'

  So saying, she carefully tucked the precious box at the back of the cupboard and closed the door. 'Thank you, Helen. I really do not know what I should do without you!'

  Dinner at the Guarding Academy for Girls was not the unpalatable meal so often to be had at English boarding schools. In fact, Mrs Guarding prided herself on the quality and the variety of food served at the Academy. She was often heard to say that a body starved was a mind starved, and if there was one thing the headmistress demanded from her girls, it was the constant use of their brains. Fortunately, she employed a cook who was somewhat feared by the local tradespeople, and who had, on more than one occasion, taken a supplier to task for trying to sell her inferior goods.

  Dinner that night, for example, consisted of a savoury chicken pie, served with bread and boiled potatoes, followed by custard and fruit. The girls sat at two long wooden tables with one teacher sitting at the head, and one at the foot. Conversation was not forbidden, but it was to be kept to a polite level. Mrs Guarding appeared at the beginning of the evening meal to lead them in grace, and if she was not otherwise engaged, generally sat down to eat with them. If she did retire to her private dining-room, it usually meant that she was entertaining a visitor, either a local person of some importance, or one of the girls' parents.

  Mrs Guarding had retired to her dining-room tonight, but Desiree had no need to guess at the identity of the visitor. She had already seen Lord Perry's carriage in the courtyard and knew that after dining with Mrs Guarding, he would spend some time with Elizabeth before heading back to Town.

  Desiree's own relationship with Elizabeth had not improved during the past year. In fact, the girl seemed to have made it her mission to make Desiree's life as miserable as possible. She continued to disrupt the class whenever possible, and was disrespectful almost to the point of rudeness. Of course, Desiree knew that she would be the one made to suffer if she did lose her temper, and for that reason alone she endeavoured to ignore Miss Perry's outbursts and to carry on
with the class.

  But it did not make for amiable working conditions, nor for a congenial relationship.

  At the conclusion of the meal, the girls rose and quietly left the tables. Desiree rose too, intending to head directly back to her room, when she suddenly remembered the gift Helen had given her. She hesitated for a moment, wondering where Lord Perry might be, and then realised that he must still be with Mrs Guarding. The headmistress usually made a point of being there to bid the girls a good evening. The fact that she had been absent tonight meant that she must still be entertaining her guest—which left the way clear for Desiree to return to her classroom.

  Desiree seldom went back to her room after dark. The wing was totally removed from the rest of the school, situated as it was at the far end of the building, and although she had never been one given to flights of fancy, neither did she relish being alone in the deserted corridors. Even now, her footsteps made a hollow, empty sound on the wooden floor. And apart from the eerie glow of the full moon and the rather feeble light cast by her candle, Desiree was surrounded by the night.

  She was heartily relieved when she finally reached her room. Opening the door, she hesitated for a moment in the doorway. She knew the layout of the desks and where the cupboard was located, but it felt strange to be moving around in total darkness. She held the candle aloft and carefully moved forward.

  She finally found the cupboard she was looking for, and setting the candle on the corner of the desk, Desiree bent down to open it. She put her hand inside and began to feel around for the small box she had secreted there. It was then she heard the words, spoken in a low, lazy drawl, that frightened her far more than darkened rooms and empty shadows ever could.

  'Good evening, Desiree.'

  Desiree froze, her pulse beginning to beat an erratic rhythm in her chest. Lord Perry! He must have followed her here from the dining-room. But she had not heard his footsteps. Which meant that he had trailed her stealthily, not wishing her—or anyone else—to know.

  Desiree rose slowly, forcing herself to remain calm. 'Good evening, Lord Perry.'

  He was standing just inside the doorway, the light from the candle in his hand shedding a soft glow on his handsome face. 'What a pleasant surprise to find you here all alone, Desiree. I have been hoping to do so for some time now.'

  Desiree only just managed to repress a shiver. Even in the dim light, she recognised the look in his eyes. 'I cannot imagine why, my lord.'

  'Can you not?' His mouth curled upwards in a mocking smile. 'I thought that would have been quite obvious to you by now.'

  A chill, black silence surrounded them. 'I think it would be best if you were to leave, Lord Perry,' Desiree said quietly. 'It is not seemly that we be alone together.'

  'But I have waited so long for just such an occasion, my dear. Surely you would not deprive me of a few moments of conversation now that we are here.'

  A weak flutter of hope arose in her breast. 'Do you wish to speak to me about Elizabeth?'

  'Elizabeth? Good God, no. I have quite enough conversation with my daughter as it is. She is an impertinent child at the best of times. But then, I am sure I have no need of telling you that.'

  Desiree swallowed tightly. 'My lord?'

  'Oh, come, Miss Nash, you need not mince words with me. Elizabeth is a cold little bitch who probably enjoys making your life hell. You can blame her mother for that. She raised her in her own image.'

  The cold, impersonal manner with which he spoke of his wife and daughter did nothing to endear him to Desiree. 'Then what would you wish to speak to me about, if not Elizabeth's progress?'

  He took a step forward and closed the door behind him. 'I wish to speak to you, Desiree. About the possibility of our achieving... a much warmer relationship than the one we have now.'

  A shudder rippled through Desiree's body. 'We do not have a relationship.'

  'That is precisely my point.'

  Icy fear twisted around Desiree's heart. She had not mistaken the look in Lord Perry's eye. He had followed her down here with one purpose in mind, and unless she did something to prevent it, he was going to attempt to force himself on her right here in the darkness of the deserted classroom.

  In spite of her fear, Desiree felt anger and loathing rise in her breast. What right had he to think he could treat her in such a manner! Did he think that because she was a woman and a teacher that she had no feelings? How dare he treat her with such a blatant lack of respect?

  Desiree glanced quickly about the room, peering into the darkness for a possible means of escape. Had there been more light, she might have been able to make a dash for the door, but in the darkness, she knew she was likely to stumble over a chair or fall upon a table. Besides which, Lord Perry stood between her and the door. Which left her only one alternative.

  'I shall scream,' Desiree threatened in a low voice. 'I swear if you touch me—-'

  'Oh, I do intend to touch you,' Lord Perry whispered. 'But I do not think you will scream. Because I know that in the deepest recesses of your heart, you don't really want to fight me, Desiree.'

  'My name is Miss Nash.'

  'Oh yes, I've seen that look in your eyes, Desiree. And I know what it means.'

  'Stay away from me!'

  'They won't believe you if you say you fought me,' Lord Perry murmured as he took another step closer and set his candle on the desk. 'They'll believe that you encouraged my advances. And why would you not? I can make your life very pleasant, Desiree. I'm a very wealthy man. I can give you anything you ask for. But if you fight me—'

  It happened so fast that Desiree had no time to prepare herself. Lord Perry covered the ground between them in a single stride. He reached for the bodice of her gown and ripped it open.

  'No!'

  'I will have you,' he ground out, his voice thick with desire as he locked his hand around her waist and pulled her against him. 'Come, let me taste the sweetness of your lips.'

  Incensed beyond reason, Desiree began to fight. She twisted and writhed in his arms, trying to strike him as she fought to get away, but she was no match for his strength.

  'Yes, my little hellcat, a fight only adds to the pleasure,' Lord Perry breathed darkly. 'But I won't have you mark me.'

  Pushing her backwards, he pinned her body against the wall and captured both of her hands in one of his. Shoving them behind her back, he held them there in a punishing grip while his free hand moved aside the fabric of her blouse. 'Beautiful,' he murmured huskily. 'So...beautiful.'

  For Desiree, time ceased to have any kind of meaning. She had never felt so humiliated, so utterly degraded, in her entire life. She felt Lord Perry's mouth on her throat and shuddered in revulsion. But when she felt him begin to fumble with the fastenings of his breeches, she opened her mouth to scream, only to have the sound swallowed by his mouth as it hungrily fastened on hers.

  Then, from somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, she heard the sound of the door opening...

  'Miss... Nash!'

  The shocked and horrified voice of the headmistress reverberated around the dark room like a clap of thunder. As Lord Perry took his mouth from hers, Desiree turned in horror to stare at the cluster of women who were gathered in the doorway. A group which included Mrs Guarding and Helen de Coverdale, and behind them, Elizabeth Perry and Isabel Hewton.

  'It would seem that we have been discovered, my dear,' Lord Perry observed, seemingly unconcerned by the interruption. With no outward show of haste, he let go of Desiree's hands and stepped away from her. 'I told you that your room would have been a more appropriate place for a rendezvous, but you would not wait.'

  Desiree choked back a cry as shock drained the blood from her face. 'How can you suggest—I never said—'

  'Miss Nash, attend to your clothing!' Mrs Guarding interrupted sharply. 'I will speak to you later.' She turned to the two young girls behind her. 'Back to your rooms, both of you!'

  Reluctantly, the girls scampered away. Desiree raised her hands
to the torn bodice of her gown as the gravity of her situation began to sink in. 'Mrs Guarding, please—'

  'Lord Perry, if you would be so good as to wait for me in my office,' Mrs Guarding said tonelessly.

  Straightening the folds of his cravat, Lord Perry offered them a thin smile. 'I am, of course, at your service.' Then, as a final humiliation, he turned back to Desiree and bowed. 'Your servant, Miss Nash.'

  Desiree closed her eyes in disgust. She turned away from Lord Perry and prayed that she would not be physically ill.

  As soon as the man left, Mrs Guarding breathed a heavy sigh. 'Go to your room, Miss Nash,' she said quietly. 'I will expect you in my sitting-room in half an hour. Kindly do not be late.'

  'Mrs Guarding—'

  'Miss de Coverdale, be so good as to assist Miss Nash.'

  It was clear from the tone of the headmistress's voice that she would brook no argument, and Desiree hung her head in shame. She could only imagine how this must look. She had been caught in a darkened room, locked in a passionate embrace with the father of one of her students. It would not matter that it had been nothing short of an attempted rape. Because he was a nobleman, and she a teacher, there would be no quarter given. She alone would be held up for blame and censure;

  Worse, the fact that the episode had been witnessed by two of the Academy girls made any hope of salvation impossible. Desiree knew how Elizabeth Perry would make it sound in front of the rest of the school. Her reputation would be in shreds.

  Her life at Guarding's was over.

  Desiree felt the softness of a shawl being draped around her shoulders, and looked up to see tears shimmering in Helen's eyes. 'Are you all right?' Helen asked, looking decidedly shaken by the night's tragic events.

  Desiree nodded but her eyes were haunted. 'It wasn't what it seemed,' she whispered wretchedly.