Only a Mistress Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  “So you see, Miss Carlton, I hold you in thrall. If you so much as breathe a word of our encounter here I will make it known you were Trevor’s mistress, a common strumpet from a brothel. My father will be livid when he finds his future son-in-law has brought his lady-bird with him in the guise of a governess. He might even break the betrothal.” Harper sneered as he stalked around the table toward her.

  Dear God, what must she do? Every instinct cried flee the brute and beg someone, Tris, Dora, even Lady Downing to save her from him. Her pulse beat a staccato rhythm in her ears and she tensed for flight as he closed on her, shaking his wounded hand.

  If she sought help, however, Harper would expose her. Her reputation would be in ruins, never again able to pass for a decent woman. No one would ever receive her again—not even Tris’s considerable influence could mend that.

  The vile fiend reached her, but she stood still. Submit and she might retain her position here and the pretense of respectability. Defy him and she could cost Tris his marriage to Dora and find herself fit only for Madame Vestry.

  Violet raised her gaze to the smirking face as he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. Steeling herself, she yielded to him when he crushed his lips against hers, bruising her mouth and cutting her lip on his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth once more.

  He fisted one hand in her hair then thrust his tongue into her so far she almost gagged. His other hand fumbled at her bodice until finally he shoved it under the fabric and pulled her breast free. With brutal fingers he pinched her nipple, pulling and rolling it until tears started from her eyes.

  She braced against the pain, but refused to cry out.

  Harper dug her other breast out, squeezing that nipple so sharply she couldn’t stifle a moan. He chuckled. “I knew you’d like this. All sluts do.” He lowered his head and latched onto her left nipple, sucking on it hard while he squeezed the other one unmercifully.

  Violet bit her lip to keep from crying out. The ache in her breasts soared, yet she must stand it and silently. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Suddenly the pressure of his mouth decreased as he set his teeth against her tender nipple.

  She gasped and clenched her jaw, dread of worse pain to come hurtling through her. In desperation, she grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into his wool coat as her breasts swelled against his harsh treatment.

  “Miss Carlton! Miss Carlton!” Cries from Anna’s room pierced Violet’s numbed mind, snapping her back to sanity.

  Harper raised his head, turning toward the sudden noise, freeing her breast.

  With a great shove, she pushed him away, gasping in a breath that dispelled the cobwebby feeling of powerlessness. Stumbling back, she automatically pushed her breasts back into her bodice. Avoiding Harper’s red, leering face, she raced into the nursery to Anna’s bedside.

  “There, there, now.” Calming her own fears, Violet eased onto the bed where the little girl sat up, shaking in terror. “Was it a bad dream? You’re awake now, lovey.” A fervent glance at the open door, but the fiend did not appear.

  “Oh, Miss Carlton.” Anna threw her arms around her governess, her slight body trembling as she nodded.

  “Well, you are safe now, my dear.” Trembling, Violet pulled the distraught child to her, taking as much as giving comfort. “What was the matter in your dream?”

  “I was being chased by a big dog.” A stranglehold on her, Anna buried her head in Violet’s bosom.

  “A very big dog?”

  A nod, though she still hid her face.

  “As big as Sadie?”

  The child sat up, her petite brows fixed in a comical frown. “Sadie is a Yorkshire terrier. She is not big enough to frighten a flea.”

  “Well, then, was it as big as Johnny?”

  “Much bigger than him.” Anna leaned back on the pillows. “Of course, Johnny is a basset hound and old. He wouldn’t scare anyone.”

  “Well, then, it must be as big as Duke.” Sensing an unwelcome presence outside the door, Violet rose.

  “Oh, yes, indeed. It was just as big as Duke.”

  The family Great Dane was taller than Anna, but as good natured as any animal Violet had ever met. “But Duke wouldn’t hurt you, would he?”

  “No, of course not. I love Duke.”

  “And he loves you. He wouldn’t try to frighten you, do you think?”

  “No, Duke wouldn’t do that.”

  “And he wouldn’t let another dog frighten you, would he, my dear?”

  “Duke would protect you, poppet, no matter what.” Mr. Harper rounded the doorframe and stood looking as though he’d come from church, not a hair out of place, pious expression on his face. “Just like Papa would.”

  “Papa, papa!” Anna jumped out of the bed and ran to her father. She launched herself into his arms.

  He caught her to him, hugging her with all his might. Over Anna’s head he caught Violet’s attention and nodded slowly.

  She stood and backed toward the servant’s entrance to the nursery behind her. She tried to forget the slimy feeling of his skin on hers, his mouth on her.

  He held her gaze and mouthed the word, “Tonight.”

  Violet’s knees turned to water. She’d escaped this afternoon by the grace of God. Tonight she could not hope to be so lucky. With a strangled cry she fled the nursery, grateful to have this short respite from this loathsome man’s attentions. Certainly it would not be long enough.

  Chapter 27

  Violet fled downstairs to the kitchen under the guise of needing assistance with the broken dishes in the nursery. She could think of no better excuse in her shocked and battered state. Her breasts still ached with his abuse and she trembled in fear, which was hard to hide. She kept checking her bodice to assure her appearance didn’t breathe a word of what had transpired upstairs. Each time she did so, however, she could feel Mr. Harper’s hot mouth on her and the trembling increased.

  Mrs. Rose eyed her oddly, but nodded to a footman. “James, go fetch the tea service from the nursery.” She bustled about the kitchen, checking a batch of bread in the oven, supervising two young scullery maids who were paring vegetables, and another footman who sat polishing the silver. “Did you need more tea sent up, Miss Carlton?” She dipped a spoon into a bubbling pot on the stove and tasted it.

  “Yes, please, Mrs. Rose. I’d best get back to Anna.” Violet wanted to dawdle in the warm kitchen that recalled the comfort and safety of home, but there was Anna to think of. Perhaps if she hurried and got the girl ready for a walk while the footman was there, they could leave with him and avoid being alone with Mr. Harper. That might help with this afternoon, but what about tonight? “Mrs. Rose, I wonder if I might take my dinner in the servant’s hall this evening? I can put Anna to bed and come straight down.”

  Again, a piercing look from the cook, though she shrugged and nodded. “Makes no never mind to me, Miss Carlton, if the governess wants to eat here. Less work for us in the long run.” She took her rolling pin and banged it into the lump of dough on her counter. “Suit yourself. Best be on time, though, or you’ll do without dinner.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Violet crept back upstairs. Outside the nursery door, she listened intently for movement inside. The soft swish of a broom on the hardwood floor told her the footman was still about. She squared her shoulders and marched into the sitting room.

  All seemed quiet. James had cleared the broken dishes and discarded food onto a large tray and had swept up the mess on the floor. “There you go, Miss Carlton,” he said, hefting the tray in one hand. He deftly tucked the broom under his arm and grabbed the dustpan.

  “Did you see Mr. Harper and Anna?” She kept her voice low in case the man was in Anna’s bedroom.

  “Yes, miss. He dressed her and they left only a few minutes ago.” James headed for the door.

  “Did Mr. Harper happen to say where they were going?” She prayed it was not to his moth
er to demand she be dismissed.

  “I believe they were going to walk about the garden, miss. Miss Anna seemed excited about the snow, though it’s almost gone. If you’ll pardon me, miss.” The footman left, taking his blanket of security with him.

  Violet crept to the sitting room window and peeped out between the dark green-damasked drapes. This window gave onto the larger of the house’s two gardens.

  The failing light revealed Anna squealing in delight as her father chased her around the cold, empty fountain. Suddenly he seized the child and lifted her high in the air, twirling her around while she screamed with laughter. He caught sight of Violet and stopped, a grin spreading over his ruddy face.

  Her heart surged, as if clutched by a phantom hand. What must she do? She might be able to thwart his advances for a day or two if she was very careful, but eventually he would corner her. Now more than ever she wished for Susan who would shadow her every move and keep the hellhound at bay. The reality of the situation was stark, however. She had two choices: leave or accept Mr. Harper’s advances. If she left, she had nowhere to go. Tris had closed Lammas House and dismissed the servants. While she might apply to Lord Manning for aid, she would hate to involve him further in her wretched affairs. She could not consult Tris without telling him why she wanted to leave, after which he would kill Mr. Harper and be hanged himself. Just like the Earl Ferrers.

  Which left her precisely two options: Madame Vestry’s establishment or mistress to Simon Harper. Both odious choices but she’d had no say in creating them. At least if she remained at Harper’s Grange she need only service Mr. Harper rather than a horde of different men each night. Cold comfort perhaps, yet a relevant point. Better the devil she knew.

  Violet backed away from the window, her mind whirling with the magnitude of her decision. She’d avoid Mr. Harper as best she could for as long as she could. See how difficult it would be to keep out of his clutches without rousing the suspicions of the household and go on from there.

  The unsettled nature of the next few days would grind her nerves to a fine point but it could not be helped. Violet prayed she could find a way to avoid the man although she held out little hope of it. She might as well attempt to escape the notice of the Almighty. With that cheerful thought, she headed into her bedroom to repair her appearance for a dinner she’d likely not touch. Still, her presence in the servant’s hall would keep her safer than dining alone in her room.

  After sending a footman to collect Anna when she returned to the house, Violet read to the girl, gave her dinner and put her to bed with remarkably little fuss from the child. She yawned throughout her meal and fell asleep almost instantly, apparently worn out from her playtime with her father. It seemed the man was good for something at least.

  Still on edge, Violet jumped at each creak of a floorboard, expecting Mr. Harper to appear and ravish her on the spot. She didn’t really believe he would force himself upon her in front of his daughter. He used that threat as another tactic to buy her compliance with her own debauchery. Still, she would put nothing past the odious man in the end. Best spend most of the evening with the other servants.

  Luck shone a glimmer on her and she walked to dinner in the company of Madge, an upstairs maid who had been sent to fetch a shawl for the duchess. Once in the servant’s hall, Violet relaxed a measure, enough to enjoy the excellent chicken that was Mrs. Rose’s specialty. She spoke little unless asked a question, keeping an ear on the conversations surrounding the Downing’s doings. Lady Downing had repaired to the drawing room with the ladies when Violet and the others had sat down to eat.

  “Have the gentlemen joined the ladies, Mr. Eccles?” she asked nonchalantly when the butler returned from a summons upstairs.

  “Yes, Miss Carlton. They’ve just now gone in. I’ll take another slice of currant cake, Mrs. Rose, if you don’t mind.” The older man sat wearily at the head of the table.

  “Right away, Mr. Eccles.” Mrs. Rose brought the whole cake to the table and cut a slice for him. “Another for you, Miss Carlton?”

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Rose. The first was delicious, but I’m quite full enough after your delightful chicken.” Violet could be enthusiastic, for the cook knew her business well. “I believe I will say good night now. I need to check on Anna. Thank you for allowing me to dine with you.” She wished she could do so each day for the servants here were a friendly if somewhat reserved crew. She’d like to get to know them, but that was frowned upon as beneath her position. “Good night.”

  Violet smiled and nodded to each person, then quietly slipped from the hall. A swift trip back to the nursery and she could lock herself in her bedroom for the night. She hurried down the main corridor, first past Lord Downing’s study, then the library. The creak of the library door shot a jolt of fear down her spine. The hairs on her arms stood straight up and she bent her head and put on a burst of speed.

  Too late.

  Simon Harper stepped out of the library and snagged her hand as she raced by. He hauled her into the dim room and closed the door quietly behind her. The rasp of the key in the lock sent chills down her back.

  “Thought you’d be sly didn’t you, Violet?” He pulled her against him. His hot breath in her ear made her clench her teeth. “I like a little spirit in my girls.” Seizing her head, he dragged it up to his. “But only a little. You’d do well to remember that.” With more force than last time, he mashed his lips against hers, trying to push his tongue into her mouth.

  She clamped her lips together, determined to fight, and backed away, only to find her way blocked by a library table.

  He stabbed at her mouth with his tongue, advancing inward only to be stopped by her clenched teeth. He clamped his hand into her hair and jerked it, almost tearing it from the roots.

  Violet cried out, her eyes tearing at the sudden pain.

  With a triumphal cry he thrust his thick tongue into her mouth, almost choking her.

  She pummeled his chest, then gave a great push, sending him reeling backward into a chair. She wretched, coughing to dispel the sickening sensation of his tongue in her throat.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll get used to that in no time. I’ve a fondness for ladies’ mouths as you’ll find out.” His dark eyes brightened, as a gleam of candlelight revealed his excitement.

  Violet’s stomach lurched, almost gagging her anew. Madame Vestry had told her all the places men liked to have women put their mouths on them. She staggered backward, bent on flight.

  He grabbed her arm, then grasped her face in a cruel grip. “You’ll come to like it eventually.” He scrutinized her face, then let go and let his gaze wander down to her breasts. “Yes, these beauties must be let out to play.” Grasping the top of her bodice, he ripped the garment open.

  “No!” Violet started back, trying to grab the pieces of her gown and cover her exposed stays. Tears of rage streamed down her cheeks. To hell with safety. She had to get away before he threw her onto the library table and debauched her right here. She opened her mouth to scream.

  He spun her around, his brutal hand clamped over her mouth, his arm round her neck. “None of that.” He chuckled in her ear. “Struggle and I’ll call Father to witness your depraved nature, though I’d rather this be our little secret. Stuck down here in the country with an ailing wife, well, a man has needs as I’m sure you know.” He slid his hand into her corset and hauled her breasts out one at a time. “There. They look so pretty when they’re free, don’t they?” He nodded toward the Venetian curio cabinet whose mirrored back reflected a dim image of his hands on her naked body.

  Violet sobbed, terrified and humiliated as he slid busy fingers over her nipples.

  He pinched one suddenly, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. “I might have had you at Madame Vestry’s had I seen you first. Damn Trevor for taking you away before I got a taste.” He ran his tongue up the back of her neck. “Of course, I’ll have more than a taste now.” He gave her nipple a vicious
twist.

  Violet screamed in agony.

  The library door burst open.

  The wrath of God blazing from his eyes, Tris strode in.

  Harper pushed Violet toward him and made a mad dash for the door.

  Violet staggered, but stayed on her feet, relief washing through her.

  Tris grabbed Harper by his throat, lifted him off his feet, and threw him into the towering glass curio cabinet. Shattered glass cascaded over him. Several small volumes, a china figurine, and a jet-black stone statue of a cat fell onto Harper, lying sprawled on the floor. A large quartz rock teetered on the edge of a broken shelf then toppled onto his head. He yelped, then grasped his head and moaned.

  Disregarding the broken glass, Tris seized the man by his jacket, hauled him up and drove his fist into his stomach.

  Harper doubled over, retching.

  Shaking as though she’d emerged from an ice-cold pond, Violet tried desperately to repair her appearance. She pushed her breasts back inside her stays and clutched the ends of her torn bodice, trying to cover herself. Her hands shook so hard, however, the material kept slipping through her fingers. What could she do? Nothing save cross her arms over her chest, and huddle in the corner of a leather chair.

  Before Harper could straighten, Tris slammed his fist into his face.

  He flew backward into the tattered remains of the curio cabinet and lay still.

  Tris started toward him again, and Violet gasped, certain he meant to murder the wretch. He stopped and whirled around, seemed to see her for the first time.

  “Violet.” In two strides, he reached her, dragged her out of the chair. He clutched her to him. “My God, are you hurt?”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hung her head, weeping with shame and joy and relief. It was over.