Corey McFadden (17 page)

“There is the household staff, Lady Eleanor. How do we get a group of young girls up the beach and into hiding without being seen?” Hawton was feeling nearly ill at the thought. He liked a good lay as much as the next man, even a virgin when he could get one, but the thought of wholesale kidnapping or buying children for the purpose was unnerving, to say the least.

“Well, perhaps we’ll just forget this conversation, Hawton, since you are so faint of heart. I could arrange everything myself and keep all the money. I was going to share it with you but...” she waited. She was bluffing. She’d never be able to run this operation without his aid, and besides, now that she had told him about it, it was too late to keep him out of it.

“How much money are we talking about?” he heard himself asking.

“One hundred guineas per shipment, never more than five or six girls in any load, a shipment every few weeks.”

It was a staggering sum, even shared with Eleanor. In a matter of a few years he could be wealthy enough to buy his own home, a small manor perhaps. He could be his own steward, own the land he tended, take orders from no one, bow to no man...or woman.

“I suppose we could insist that no ship arrive during daylight hours,” he said musingly. “If we were certain of the hour, say by flare or signal, we could be on the beach to meet the small boats.”

He would do it! This was exactly what she needed to hear, some sort of planning that would take this scheme from idea to reality. Oh, she wanted this so badly. She could be in London within the year! She slid her hand to his thigh and began a languid stroking up the inside.

“There’s a bluff between the beach and the house, my dear, and one cannot see the beach directly from the house,” she purred near his ear. She was moving closer.

He had time to note the endearment, the first she had ever used to him. The thought of all that money and the insistent rubbing against his thigh were making him grow hard.

“My cottage, yes,” he said, eyes heavy-lidded. Almost absently he reached over and grasped a breast, spilling it out from her low décolletage. He kneaded her softly. “We could take them behind the rise and bring them up the small path from the beach to my cottage. It would not be seen from the house.”

“I know,” she murmured huskily, her tongue seeking his ear. “Remember? We did it there once, on the beach.”

In answer he groaned and stretched himself over her. He lowered his mouth to hers and plundered her with his tongue.

“But, Hawton,” she whispered breathlessly as she broke her mouth from his, rumbling with his breeches. “Remember, no touching the merchandise. They have to be virgins.”

He laughed deep in his throat as he tongued her nipple. “I’ve told you, my dear. I have no need for virgins when I can have you.” He lied, but it was the right remark. She moaned and pressed herself against him.

Rich. He would be rich. Then he’d get himself a young one and tell Lady Eleanor to go to hell.

Chapter Eight

Joanna stood before Lady Eleanor’s desk, her heart hammering in her chest. It had been three days since the unfortunate incident with Tom, and although she and the children had seen nothing of the woman during that time, Joanna had lived in dread of their next meeting.

“You wished to see me, Lady Eleanor?” she asked softly, hoping her voice would hold steady.

“I do, Miss Carpenter,” replied Lady Eleanor absently, penning something at her small, ornate escritoire. “Wait a moment and I’ll attend you.” She did not ask Joanna to sit.

Joanna stood, willing herself not to fidget, glancing around with veiled interest. Although the day was bright, the heavy draperies were all drawn and there was only the light from one candle burning at the desk. Joanna could see well enough to note, however, that the woman’s sitting room was elaborately decorated. Everywhere Joanna looked were squiggles and swirls, brocades, silks, and complicated drapings. There was a great deal too much furniture, mixed in period, but of very fine quality.

But it was not the furnishings that seized Joanna’s attention. Compared to the artwork in this room, the odalisque in the drawing room was fit to hang in a cloister of nuns. There were three large paintings in which none of the many figures was wearing a stitch. One of the paintings depicted a man and a woman in the throes of passion with stark realism. Joanna tore her eyes away from the remarkable sight and made sure they did not stray that way again. She was reminded all too acutely of her strange and decidedly unmaidenly reaction to Sir Giles’s simple touch. And last night she had had such a dream! It made her blush just to think of it, wondering guiltily how she could have known enough about that sort of thing to have such a dream! She fought to block the thoughts that rushed unbidden through her mind, as she had fought in vain these last three days.

Sir Giles had left the day after the unfortunate incident—there had been an emergency at the mine—but this time he had sought Joanna out to tell her he was leaving. He had seemed to find it difficult to meet her eye, and she had stammered and blushed and felt like a fool, wondering whether he knew about the devils that had beset her all night long and was fleeing her shameless wantonness. But he had taken his leave without so much as touching her hand, bidding her to stay clear of Eleanor and her guests, and leaving a great, turbulent emptiness behind.

She was aware that she was blushing, which made it all the harder to keep her composure, feeling guilty and miserable, standing before a woman who would have laughed at her missish thoughts.

Oh, please don’t try to discharge me,
she thought desperately. Sir Giles had left strict instructions with her that his stepsister had no right to interfere with the terms of her employment and that if she tried to do so, Joanna was to ignore her and send word to him at once. But the awkwardness would be unbearable and it would likely reduce her already strained relationship with Lady Eleanor to one of open warfare.

At last Lady Eleanor raised her head from her paper and gave Joanna a slow perusal.

“You are aware that I am having a little fancy-dress soiree this evening, are you not, Miss Carpenter?” she asked. Her tone, while not icy, was condescending and perhaps a little smug.

“Indeed, I am, Lady Eleanor,” was all Joanna cared to venture.

“I am including not only my out-of-town guests but a number of our neighbors as well. We are quite isolated here, as you may have noticed, but we do have neighbors at a distance and it has been a long time since I entertained,” Eleanor went on. “The guests will not arrive until after nine o’clock. I assume the children will be asleep by then?”

“Yes, my lady, they will have been abed a good while by nine.”

“Good. I would suggest that one of the servants be placed in each of their rooms to sit up all night in case one of them awakens. I want no repetition of what happened the other day, Miss Carpenter.”

Joanna could feel her face flaming. “I shall sit up with them myself, Lady Eleanor,” she began, hiding her hands in the folds of her skirt so that the woman would not see how they shook. “They have a connecting door and I can watch both rooms at once. Not that either of them ever awakens in the night. I am told they are both sound sleepers, and neither one has ever disturbed me,” Joanna finished, having fought to keep her tone neutral. It was hard not to resent the inference that the children needed gaolers, or that they would cause a disruption to Eleanor’s blasted party.

“You? Certainly not, Miss Carpenter,” Eleanor replied, eyes alight with amusement. “You will be attending my soiree.”

“I—I am to attend
...?”
Joanna broke off, stunned. The last thing she wanted to do in this whole world was go to a party with all those horrible people.

“Of course, my dear. Isn’t that what your sort is always looking for? I am sorry you’ve been saddled with a post in such a terrible location. Husband-hunting is scarce this far north into nowhere, but I thought the least I could do for you is introduce you to some handsome bachelors.
Who knows, we may even turn up one or two who might be looking for a well-educated little wife.” Eleanor laughed her brittle laugh.

“I am not...” Joanna began, shocked and annoyed by what she was hearing.

“Nonsense. Of course you are. And if you aren’t, then you should be. Alternatively, you can stay here until you grow old and die, alone, wiping that half-witted
boy’s snot for the rest of his miserable life.”

Joanna took a deep breath, clenching her hands to her sides. This woman was vicious, twisted, and mean. She saw everything through her own perverted thinking. “Lady Eleanor,” she answered, willing herself to sound calm, “you mistake my goals. I have no wish to marry, and I certainly have no such designs concerning my position here. And as far the children are concerned, I am content to stay in this post as long as I am needed. Then, naturally, I shall try to secure another post. In any event, I do not feel it would be appropriate for me to attend a social function of this magnitude. I am, after all, only the governess.” There. She had set the woman straight and appealed to her sense of snobbery as well. Surely the woman would understand that the governess had no business hobnobbing with the swells at her fancy-dress affair. If Lady Eleanor understood nothing else, she understood class distinctions.

“Miss Carpenter, it is you who are mistaken,” Eleanor began, her tone purring but her eyes malicious. “I must insist that you attend. I have several of my young bucks all agog at the prospect of fresh blood, if you will. I even have a costume all picked out for you. I assume you did not come with anything in your battered little valises that would be suitable for a fancy-dress ball?”

Joanna stared at her, feeling outsmarted. She had been just about to demur on the grounds of having nothing to wear. “My lady, it is most thoughtful of you, but....”

“No buts, Miss Carpenter! I have said you will attend, and so you shall. Sir Giles wishes it. He is terribly concerned about your welfare, you know. He asked me especially to make sure that you were not bored to absolute suicide here. He said to tell you he is sorry he cannot be here himself this evening, but I am to be certain that you enjoy yourself. Do you understand?” Eleanor’s eyes were gleaming.

“I—I do not know what to say,” stammered Joanna, truly at a loss and coloring at the very mention of his name. If Sir Giles really did wish it, then, of course, she should attend. It was just that it seemed so unlike him somehow. But perhaps he really did think she might be pining for more gaiety. Certainly he had remarked upon the gloom of the house often enough. And if the neighbors were coming, then perhaps....

“Say nothing. Just make yourself very fetching this evening. I shall send up the costume and one of the maids to dress you shortly before nine. Remember to stay masked. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Eleanor smiled a smile that came nowhere near her eyes.

“Yes, my lady. I shall be ready,” Joanna managed to croak. “Will that be all for now?” She needed badly to get upstairs to her room. The children were having their supper and would be put to bed shortly. She could have a few hours to herself. Perhaps she could plead a headache later....

“Yes, but see to it that those brats are in bed as soon as possible. And put the fear of God into them about venturing from their rooms this evening. I will not be embarrassed by them again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Lady Eleanor. They will not disturb anyone, I assure you,” Joanna replied, trying to keep her voice mild. Papa would surely have found something to love in this woman, but even he would have had to work particularly hard at it, she thought grimly. She dropped a small curtsey and left the room, making quickly for the stairs.

Once in her room, she fell into her big, comfortable chair and stared out at the beautiful purple fells that stretched as far as the eye could see to the east. If Sir Giles wanted her to go, she would go, naturally. It seemed odd that he would tell Lady Eleanor to look out for her, but it was kind of him to care, even though he had got it all wrong. She supposed it was a normal assumption that young women loved balls and parties, and he certainly didn’t know her well enough to know that she was the exception to the rule. A nice quiet evening with a bath and a good book would have been much more to her liking. Well, she could still have the bath.

* * * *

In front of her cluttered dressing table, Eleanor sat, snarling at her maid. “Damn you, girl! If this wig topples off into my soup, I’ll have the skin off you!” Eleanor’s hands reached up to grab the monstrous thing which was now tilted to the left at a precarious angle. Lily bit back a sigh and tried again. The contraption was at least a foot tall, an edifice of wire, wound about with long strands of false hair, greased and heavily powdered. Hanging from it at strategic points were a dozen little ornaments, miniature musical instruments, made of wood and gilded brightly.

Lady Eleanor was to be dressed as a notorious Italian diva, noted for wearing a half mask down the left side of her face and for her legendary number of lovers. Eleanor’s dress was a riotous magenta, with very little bodice to hide her bosom. She glanced down at her chest while Lily continued to try to pin the absurd structure securely to her ladyship’s scalp. Eleanor was painted all the way down to her nipples, and on her arms too. The white paint, freshly applied, was smooth and flawless, and the effect, with dress and wig, was striking, to say the least. Too bad that all the skimping on meals so that she would not grow fat had left her with such a meager bosom. Philippa was very well-endowed and would no doubt appear this evening, spilling her tits all over anyone who cared to look. Still, Eleanor had managed to pad her lower bosom with cotton, thrusting her small breasts up and high into the décolletage of the gown, and, over all, she was pleased with the effect.

“Hurry up, girl, I need to be downstairs this instant. I have heard several carriages arrive already.”

“I think it’s done, my lady. Would you move your head a bit and let me see if there is any slipping?” The maid spoke tentatively. She had been struck before and did not relish the thought of being struck again.