by Sahara Kelly
“Allow me to take your…er…outwear…” Boris looked dubiously at the sodden wool cloaks. Fortunately a maid arrived from one of the many passages leading off the hall, and skidded to a halt, tsk’ing over the wet guests.
“‘Ere, I’ll do that. Leave ‘em to me, yer great oaf.” She busily took the cloaks and then helped Rose with her bonnet as Miles rid himself of his jacket.
“Yes, my sweet,” said Boris fondly, giving the maid a warm smile.
Miles grinned. He could almost hear Rose’s curiosity boiling beneath her skin.
“Boots please.” The maid stood, arms akimbo, staring at Rose.
“What?”
“Yer boots, Miss. We can’t go traipsing over priceless carpets from the mysterious East in wet boots now, can we?”
“Er, no. I suppose not.” Rose obediently sat on a bench and let the maid attack her laces.
Miles was similarly engaged as Boris easily relieved him of his boots with one tug.
“Right then.” The maid nodded. “Yer both wet to the skin and cold too, I’ll be bound.” She turned to Boris. “Put the Miss in the Harem and Master Miles—beg yer pardon—Milord into the Grotto.”
Rose was close to the edge, and the maid’s directions didn’t help. She found his hand and slipped hers into it, grasping it firmly. “Miles?”
He squeezed back. “Don’t worry. The guest rooms here have fanciful names.” He turned to Boris. “Got something we can change into?”
“Indeed yes, sir. You’ll find garments in the large cupboard, as will you, Miss.” He bowed again. “My dearest Ophelia will assist you.” He held out his arm to indicate the staircase, a move remarkably similar to a large tree waving a branch in a high wind.
“Um, well, thank you. I am a bit wet…” Rose’s voice was riddled with nerves.
“We’ll be well looked after, Rose. Never fear.” Miles led her to the stairs. “Boris, is my aunt receiving?”
“Indeed, sir. She and the others are in the Great room. I believe some sort of performance is ongoing at the moment…”
“A good time for us to make ourselves presentable then. Let her know we’ll be with her shortly?”
“Of course, Sir.” Boris bowed again.
“He bows a lot, doesn’t he?” Rose whispered to Miles as they ascended the stairs.
There was a chuckle from behind them. “Keeps him flexible, dearie. Yer have to make sure yer keep yer men flexible, don’t yer? Nobody’s going to get any pleasure from a man if the only place he’s stiff is his back…”
Rose choked a little, as Miles nearly doubled-over in laughter. “Ophelia, don’t ever change.”
They reached the hallway and the maid led them down to the end. “Well, why ever would I, milord?” She batted her eyelashes. “I got me a good husband. That’s the main thing, right there. No matter what Lady Viola might suggest…”
Miles caught himself up. He very much wanted to find out what his aunt suggested, but since Rose was a complete newcomer to the Mountfort establishment, he thought it would be best to leave that topic for now.
He let her show him into the Grotto and then lead Rose away to the room next door.
The Grotto lived up to its name, having few windows, but many candles. None were lit, of course, so he took care of that while shedding his wet clothing and rubbing himself dry with the towel folded neatly next to the pitcher and ewer on the bureau.
He hoped, with his fingers crossed, that there might be something suitably masculine in the large cupboard. Naked, he walked over to it and threw the doors wide.
And sighed.
Yes, there was plenty of male clothing. If one was an Arabian potentate.
He rummaged, praying for trousers or breeches. He was reward with several pairs of what looked like they might have been trousers before someone redesigned them out of excessively huge amounts of fabric.
He found the least offensive, a pair in a dark beige colour, and tried them on, surprised at how comfortable they were. And how warm, given that they were apparently made of cotton. Of course, wearing the equivalent of a large sheet cut and styled for one’s lower limbs probably explained the warmth.
They would have to do. He caught site of himself in the mirror and grinned, wondering if Rose was going to wear a harem outfit. And that thought brought to mind something else about those trousers. They permitted the stirrings of a gentleman’s libido to go practically unnoticed.
There was a matching shirt, very long and beautifully embroidered around the neck. Slit up the side, it added the finishing touch to the ensemble. There were even embroidered slippers, but no socks or stockings.
Miles sighed.
His aunt was a noted eccentric. She’d carefully cultured that reputation, nursing it into life with parties that were the talk of the town for months afterward, several shockingly exciting scandals, and a wit that savaged everyone without regard to status or rank. Such behaviour could have ruined her, but instead—thanks to the perversity of the Ton—she had become an instant success, and even today, many years after her last London event, she was accorded great respect and acclaim. Invitations to Mountfort Meadow were few and far between, thus making them highly desirable to anyone, and for those lucky enough to get one? Well…they were instantly elevated to the rank of “important people”.
Miles, being her nephew, was automatically included in that elevation, but for him she was just Aunt Viola. And he flat out adored her.
His hope was that Rose would like her as well.
Would she like Rose? That remained to be seen, but he felt it possible. Aunt Viola, despite her reputation, held no particular interest in those to whom Society mattered. She preferred the unusual and the unique.
Miles liked to think that Rose was both…
And at that moment there was a little tap on a side door in the Grotto. He crossed to it and pulled it wide.
Staring nervously at him was a vision in gold silk. “Um…Miles…?” she blushed.
“Oh my God.” He took a breath. “Rose…”
Chapter Nineteen
Rose knew her face was red. She wondered if the rest of her was as well, because a lot of it was showing in this somewhat risqué costume. The neckline plunged low in a swirl of gold silk, kept in place by cleverly stitched gems. She didn’t want to believe they were real, but they certainly added a lot of sparkle.
Whoever had created the gown had kept simplicity in mind. Beneath the bosom was a tiny jewelled ribbon that encircled Rose’s chest twice and tied in the front, dangling down and glittering almost to her knees. Either side was slit, higher than she would have liked, and the undergarments were of silk so sheer that little was left to an onlooker’s imagination.
The sleeves were full, wafting around her arms as she moved, and the back laced a lot more loosely than she was used to. All in all, it was scandalous, a bit draughty, and she prayed she wouldn’t sneeze because there was a possibility the whole thing might fall off if she did. As it was, the shoulders displayed a distressing tendency to slide off and down her arms without notice.
“Well. Rose.” He said her name again.
“If you laugh, I shall return to that cupboard and find myself a dagger. I shall then stab you where it hurts.” She blinked at his outfit. “Although it might be a bit difficult working out exactly where that is…”
He held up his hands. “I promise not to laugh if you promise too…”
“Agreed.” She held out one hand and they shook on the bargain.
“Let’s go downstairs and meet our hostess, shall we?” He held out his arm. She walked through into the Grotto, took his arm and let her gaze roam over the room.
“Very grotto-ish, I must admit.” She shot him a glance. “I think I rather prefer the Harem.”
He let his gaze wander over her body. “So do I.”
“Stop it, Miles.” They walked down the hallway together. “This is your aunt’s house. Behave properly, please.”
He snickered, but refrained
from commenting as they reached the bottom of the stairs to hear music playing. “This way.” He tugged her to the right and urged her forward, leading her over a gleaming checkerboard marble floor to a door carved with a variety of impossible creatures.
“Miles, that snake…” She stared at the wooden reptile with eyes of golden amber.
The snake stared back.
“It won’t bite,” he smiled. “Trust me. I was always a bit worried about that one myself when I was a boy.” The music stopped and voices echoed from within the room. “Are you ready to meet my aunt?”
She swallowed. “I’m not sure, but since we’re here…”
He pushed the door wide, and light flooded Rose’s eyes, blinding her for a moment or two. Every candle in the massive chandelier was gleaming from what must have been a thousand crystals.
She blinked away the temporary haze, only to catch her breath. “Ohhh…”
Feeling as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale, Rose moved forward beside Miles into a brilliantly coloured realm of plants, flowers, silken hangings and strange things.
A fire roared in a massive fireplace at the far end, and near the tall windows plants had been placed into unique—and probably ancient—containers, featuring such diverse creatures as brilliant porcelain dragons and gryphons carved from marble. What had to be a palm tree dominated the tallest window; the leaves matched the ones painted on the wall of her room.
Other flowers she couldn’t begin to name flooded the area with almost every colour of the rainbow. It was breathtaking, unexpected and it had Rose stopping dead in her tracks as she absorbed it all.
“Miles? Miles darling, is that you?”
From behind a mound of something heavily scented, a woman emerged, long grey hair streaming out behind her, a massive necklace covered with what had to be diamonds and emeralds tumbling over her chest and soft silk scarves clinging lovingly to her full bosom. Her legs were bare, showing through the gaping fabric as she made her way to them. Stunningly beautiful, outrageously dressed and with a smile that could have outshone the candles, the woman who had to be Miles’s aunt threw herself into his arms and embraced him with fervour.
“Hullo Aunt Viola.” He caught his breath after having most of it knocked out of him and hugged her. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping in.”
“Us?” She pulled back and caught sight of Rose. “Oh, oh, how lovely.” She released Miles and rushed to Rose, thankfully not leaping into her arms, but hugging her just as enthusiastically. “You’ve brought us a new friend, Miles, you darling boy. Rose, you say?”
Cupping Rose’s cheek, Viola stepped back, stroking the soft skin. “I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, but no such roses I see in her cheeks…”
Smiling, and dropping a little curtsey, Rose replied. “I don’t believe I warrant a Shakespearean sonnet, my Lady, but thank you anyway.”
Viola’s eyebrows lifted and she turned to Miles. “She speaks. And she thinks, Miles. Well done, lad. I am so proud of you.”
Spinning like a wild thing, Viola turned rapidly. “Come everyone. Come and meet the bouquet of surprises Miles has brought us to play with.”
“Um…” Rose glanced at Miles.
“They’re harmless. Mostly.”
Not the most reassuring thing he could have said, but Rose believed him. Gritting her teeth, she moved forward to meet whoever else was there. At this point she was pretty much prepared for anything.
Anything except a nearly nude woman and a man whose trousers were clinging to his hips in an attempt to remain in place.
“Darlings. Just look. Isn’t she amazing?” Viola was presenting her as if she were a rare and unusual creature.
The other two demonstrated varying degrees of joy.
“I’m Thetis, sweet child.” A waft of turquoise silk barely covered a clearly quite naked woman. Her body was lean and slender, and yet she was not a young thing. “You may be forgiven for mistaking me for the sea nymph after whom I was named…” She undulated across the floor.
“I was quite convinced you were she for a moment or two,” said Rose. “The likeness is unmistakable.”
Thetis beamed, running her hands over Rose’s body in a way that was both affectionate and lascivious. “She is as fair as the rose in May…”
Rose looked at Miles.
“Chaucer,” he said, glancing at the man. “Freddie, tie your belt tighter. You may be about to shock an innocent young lady in the most searingly awful of ways.”
The man shot him a glance. “Oh, come on, Miles. I’m not that badly equipped given my age. And a few moments appreciating your flower here, and I believe I shall be quite prominent in my admiration, shall we say?” He winked broadly as Miles gave a dramatic sigh.
Rose moved carefully to his side and took his arm in what she hoped was a casual move. In fact she had him in a death grip, but hoped nobody else would notice.
It was obviously a madhouse. Flowers, decorations, chandeliers notwithstanding, the inmates were surrounding her with a blend of kindness, interest and something not dissimilar to unfulfilled lust.
“Any chance of tea, Aunt?” Miles walked Rose past the shrubbery and into a more familiar environment, where there were upholstered chairs, a few side tables and an excellent view of the magnificent fireplace.
“Of course. As a matter of fact, I daresay we would all enjoy a light luncheon?”
“Jolly good idea,” said Freddie, coming up to Rose’s other side and sliding his naked arm through hers. “Lovely gel. I’m Freddie, you know. Freddie Aldredge.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” She couldn’t really curtsey, so she politely dipped her head. “I understand you reside here with Lady Mountfort?”
“Oh yes,” he enthused. “And Thetis too. We’re a family here at Mountfort Meadow. True family. We are united by our passions and our desires,” he placed his hand dramatically on his chest. “Our hearts speak to each other.” He took a breath. “Our bodies do as well, of course. Nothing like three in a bed to keep warm of a cold night, you know. Don’t you agree?”
Speechless for a moment or so, Rose tried to grasp the concept. And failed. “Indeed.” It was the best she could do. She deduced that this was the Freddie Aldredge they had come to see, but the conversation wasn’t going the way she’d expected at all.
“That’ll do for now, Freddie. Let the poor sweet girl find her feet. You can be rather overwhelming you know,” Thetis moved to his side and took his hand, wrapping his arm around her body and placing his hand directly over her breast. “You should be playing with those who understand.”
“Ah yes, m’dear. How right you are.”
Rose didn’t want to seem inquisitive, so she turned away to Miles who, thankfully, seemed quite normal. Which, given the circumstances, was a miracle in and of itself.
“I think I need to sit down,” she said beneath her breath.
“I did warn you…” His lips curved as he led her to the sofa and seated her. “Are you captivated yet?”
“Yes indeed. And then some.”
*~~*~~*
There was no way he could have prepared her, Miles told himself. Aunt Viola had to be experienced to understand, and her companions were just the same—only more so.
The sensual freedom they enjoyed, the unfettered nature of their conversations and actions—how could he have described it without making it sound like a decadent orgy? Yes, they were all lovers. Yes, they all shared the same bed, and had done for many years. It was huge, a four-poster that could have held Henry the Eighth and all six of his wives. It certainly dated from that era.
However, it was a matter that they kept between them. Whether anyone else was aware or not was irrelevant, but he also knew that Viola carefully cherished her public reputation for eccentricity. Her personal preferences were just that. Personal, and very private.
The fact that they’d opened themselves up to Rose within minutes of meeting her was a good sign. They liked her. She was welcomed. A
nd that made him happy because he truly loved his aunt and hoped she’d love the woman of his choice.
It hit him then; sitting by a massive fire in the clothing of some Arabian sheik, next to a scantily clad Rose while the rain continued to batter against the windows…she was the woman of his choice.
He wanted her. Forever.
Now all he had to do was secure her to his side as his wife. No longer would the engagement be improper. He was going to make it proper. And that was all there was to it.
Luncheon was done, and the three residents had excused themselves on the pretext of freshening up. Miles knew that in actuality they were going to nap.
He said as much to Rose, who choked over the cup of tea she was about to drink. “Really?” The laughter bubbled inside her. “A nap?”
“None of them are young, although they would be most upset if they heard me say it. And it does take a lot of energy to be…to be…”
“Liberated?” She gazed at him.
“Yes, I suppose so. That’s as good a word as any.” He shrugged. “My Aunt has the best heart of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s always accepted me as I am without question. She never upbraided me for my mistakes and constantly praised me for the things I did right. Yes, she is scandalous, shocking and outrageous.” He paused. “Now.”
“I take it she wasn’t always this way,” observed Rose quietly.
He shook his head. “No, she wasn’t. She was an Incomparable, and married young. Her husband, before his death, was overbearing to a fault. She was forced to toe a line he drew for her. They lived in a house that could best be described as a mausoleum, at worst a prison. For her, anyway.”
Rose’s mouth turned down. “How awful.”
“For someone with her spirits, yes, it was. I watched the life slowly draining from her and I could do nothing. Sometimes he allowed her to visit, and it was at those times I glimpsed the spirited and fun aunt I used to know. But then she’d leave and I would hear her cry the night before her departure.”
