Ridiculous (36 page)

“Come then.”

He seized her by the wrist and drew her back into the ballroom and through the dancing throng, making no attempt to conceal his departure. Indeed, given the rumors going around about him the more public a departure with a woman on his arm, the better. Halfway across the dance floor, he realized how futile that plan was while wearing a mask. As he reached the footman guarding the steps to the ballroom, he drew off his mask and handed it to the man, then turned to face the ballroom. A slight widening of eyes and indrawn breath and a rapid increase in the chatter told him he had been recognized. The host of this gathering likely would hear very soon that the Duke of Trolenfield left the party with a woman and the gossip would spread throughout the
ton
before dawn.

The lady herself kept the company of her mask. He released her only long enough for her to retrieve her cloak from the cloakroom. By the time she had returned, his carriage was waiting. He handed her in himself, not wishing to give up even that small touch to his footmen.

Once inside he reached past her to lower the light from the brass lanterns. His golden lady glanced toward him, then away to her hands folded in her lap. Shoffer watched a blush steal up her silken cheeks to vanish behind the mask.

“If you wish,” he said softly, “I could escort you home…”

“No,” her voice was nothing more than a breath. “I wish to be with you.”

He waited, for the first time uncertain how to begin a seduction. The lady took matters into her own hands. She slid across the seat to his side, raised his arm and pausing just long enough to gain his nod of consent, placed it about her shoulders before nestling her face into his neck. He was not certain, but it seemed that she breathed in his scent, eyes closed, before wrapping her arms about his chest. He smiled, content that she had made the first move and enjoyed her gentle embrace until the carriage lurched into motion; then he shifted her back against the squabs to kiss her.

Given the degree to which she had aroused him, initially, there was no urgency to possess. His hands did not wander, but merely pressed silk against skin, supporting her. His mouth explored hers, with slow kisses and gentle pressure. He had never consummated the sexual act in his carriage and it seemed inappropriate now. It had been so long since he had been with a woman that he was not going to be uncomfortable. A bed and soft sheets were necessary. Instead, he was content tasting the sweetness of her mouth, pressing his lips to the curve of her chin and neck, enjoying the softness. The scent.

For a moment he considered ending the interlude. Untutored kisses hinted that she had lied, that she was the wrong person for a seduction, but the scent of her warming body filled his mind and she fitted his arms so well, that the thought of setting her free melted under the pressure of rising passion.

Chapter Fifteen

Despite the lassitude that had filled her in the aftermath of their interlude on the balcony Millicent’s primary sensation was one of safety. Even as his mouth left hers to a leisurely exploration of her cheek, her throat, the upper curves of her breasts, she rested in his arms, certain of her security. This was Shoffer, honorable, wonderful Shoffer. He would care for her, even not knowing her identity. He would see to her passion, the satisfaction of her body, the realization of her secret dreams.

In the morning she would be gone, back beneath the mask of Mr. North, but tonight she was woman. Shoffer’s woman.

The jerk of the carriage halting penetrated the fog of passion. Her eyes were glazed, but she did not hesitate when he assisted her down to the footpath. Shoffer paused only long enough to dismiss the carriage.

“I shall make my own way home, John,” he said, waving away his servants before leading the way down the short path to the cottage where he usually lodged his mistresses.

He let them into the house with his own key. The housekeeper appeared just as he was guiding the woman to the staircase, but only put her head around the servant’s door long enough to confirm it was the duke and not a robber. With a deferential nod she disappeared. His lady’s quick intake of breath told him she had seen the servant and he glanced back in time to see another blush fade. Shoffer stopped and leaned down to her.

“My dear, if you but say, I shall take you home.”

Her reply was immediate. “No. I will stay.”

“This is your first time?” He did not define it further. He did not want to know if she were a virgin. Honor would require he stop at once. “No. Do not answer, I beg you.”

“Children would be a bad idea,” was her only reply.

“Trust me; I have what is needed.”

His body was one hungry ache. It was far too long since he had last enjoyed a woman and he was not going to deny himself. The woman gave him a hesitant smile and squeezed his hand. When he reached for her mask, she moved her head just out of his reach. Nodding his acceptance of her wish to remain unknown, he led her up the remaining steps and down the corridor to the bedroom.

His servants did not disappoint. The room was warm and well aired. The sheets fresh and sweet smelling. He pulled the blankets down with one rough motion and turned, expecting the woman to be cowering in the far corner. Instead he was seized about the chest as she crushed her lips to his. It took him a moment only to take control of the kiss, sinking into it, claiming her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and pressed closer and he could feel the bite of her fingers through his clothing.

Her enthusiasm was gratifying and certainly arousing. Shoffer tightened his grip on her, in case she recovered her mind and drew away. There were only a half dozen little buttons holding her bodice in place. Before she realized his intent, the buttons were slipped free of their moorings and the gold silk drawn open, exposing the breasts that had captured his attention less than an hour before.

“Oh, my dear, you are beautiful.”

He swung her up into his arms and laid her gently on the bed. His lips were like warmed velvet, brushing over the sensitized skin of her breasts. His fingers smoothed over her shoulders, her upper arms, and eased down the little cap sleeves. While she was distracted by the gentle suckling of his mouth at her breasts, he drew her dress down to her waist.

Her arms freed, Shoffer captured both hands with one of his and raised her arms over her head; with the other hand he laid siege to her body. Warm and strong his hand captured, cupped her breast, with gentle pressure he raised the nipple to near painful arousal. The touch of his tongue did not ease the ache, but sent arrows of passion to her center which flowered with moist heat and need.

A groan escaped Millicent’s lips even as her head fell back against the pillows. Shoffer accepted the invitation and moved above her, onto her, pressing her further down into the feather bed.

The pressure of the pillows on her hair pushed it forward down over her nose and the mask down over her mouth, near blinding and suffocating her. Shoffer’s hand hesitated above her head as if reluctant to remove it, fearing what he would find. Millicent grabbed for the misbehaving hair, the smothering mask to push them back into place, but her movement was too rough, too fast, and the wig tumbled back off her head.

Shoffer was on his feet in an instant. The short, poorly cut hair, the square, open face thus revealed must be as familiar to him as his own!

“North!” he cried, “What are you doing here?”

Millicent pulled the sheet up over her body and dug in her heels until she was seated upright with her back against the headboard. Shoffer stood there, the damned wig clutched in his hand, staring at her as if she were some strange beast never before seen in England. Even as she labored to use the bedding to conceal her chest he, pulled it down to stare at her breasts, then up again at her shorn head and familiar face. Millicent pulled the sheet up, Shoffer down. Again and again he uncovered her breasts to stare at them, open-mouthed.

“Oh, stop that,” cried Millicent. “Anyone would think you had not seen breasts before.”

When Shoffer tugged on the bedsheets again, Millicent lost her temper. Boxing his ear firmly she pulled the sheets up to her chin, folded her arms across her breasts and glared at him.

“Stop that,” she commanded. “By now you should be confident that they exist. You were content with them just a moment ago when you were…” a fierce blush flooded her face, “entertaining yourself with them.”

Shoffer smiled at that and raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Oh, yes. Very entertained. And I believe you were not adverse to the activity either. But, how can this be? Who are you?”

Millicent sighed. “You mean, who am I or how can I be Mr. North or who is the woman with Mr. North’s face?”

“Either. All. Both.” Shoffer shook his head. “I understand this not at all.”

“Very well, I am Millicent Boarder,” she held out one narrow-fingered hand, “how do you do?”

Shoffer took it and held it rather than kissing or shaking it. “Millicent
Boarder
? Why does that sound familiar?”

“How soon I am forgotten,” sighed Millicent, gazing up at the ceiling. “I am the eldest Boarder daughter. You remember, I, that is, Mr. North, told you about the sister who died of a fever last winter?”

“And yet, here you are before me,” Shoffer glanced down at her barely covered breasts again, “in the all too living flesh.”

“You were not complaining earlier,” shot back Millicent.

“Granted, but earlier I thought I was embracing a woman.”

“You were,” said Millicent, “you are, or do you doubt the evidence of your own eyes … and lips?”

The corner of Shoffer’s lip curled up. “Perhaps I should taste again, to be certain.”

Millicent raised her hand and Shoffer leaned back out of range, laughing.

“Oh, very well, but you must understand my confusion. Only a moment since I was engaged in…” He smirked at the blush rising again in Millicent’s face, “you always did blush easily, Mr. North. As I was saying, I was pleasuring a young woman, but now I find my arms about a woman with the face of my old friend
Mister
North. How does this come about?”

Millicent started to answer, then paused. “I hope you understand that I put more than my own self in your hands by telling you.”

“You know you can tell me anything. Well, apparently not, but tell me now. How comes this about?”

“I suppose, under the circumstances, you are entitled.” Millicent sighed and her expression became far-away. “Four years ago my father died, leaving me, my mother, and my two sisters alone in the world. What little income we lived on died with him, an annuity from his grandfather and what money he earned as a tutor. Felicity appealed to all of whom she could think, relatives, friends, and the only person who offered us shelter was Mr. Anthony North, our distant cousin. We considered ourselves fortunate right up until the moment we entered his house and discovered he intended that we should become his servants, unpaid, since it was not necessary to pay relatives, only offer them food and shelter. Having spent our last penny to get to his house, we were rather at a loss for options, so we stayed.”

“So there was an Anthony North!”

“Oh, of a certainty – a truly horrible person. Everything I purport him to be, he was, quite sincerely. The most discontented, greedy, pinchpenny, misogynistic miser one would hope to avoid. Last winter, when a purulent fever swept through the village, he died. Instead of telling the truth and making ourselves helpless and homeless, again, we put about the story that I … that Millicent Boarder had died. He was buried under my name and I assumed his. We spent a few months in the workhouse once, dreadful place, and I would do anything to protect my mother and sisters from going back. What were we to do? Anthony’s only living relative was Perceval, and from what Anthony told me, Perceval was more of a miser than he was himself. When we had first appealed for aid, Perceval had not even franked the reply he sent refusing us! It cost us sixpence to be rejected and insulted. You can understand, I hope, why we felt there was no other choice than for me to assume Anthony’s identity. It was not as if Perceval did not already have enough money himself.”

Shoffer gave a half nod, too caught up in the tale at first to react to her words, but when the import of them sank in, he shook himself and stared at her.

“North, sorry, Millicent, you do realize what you have done is a crime?”

“Of course, I do, what sort of fool do you think I am? I could hang for this. And when you came and told me I was accused of … of … well, what a horrible condition to be in. You come and tell me I am accused of a crime where the only way I can prove myself innocent of it is to reveal that I am guilty of another capital crime.” Millicent dragged both hands through her hair and groaned. “You are lucky I was too surprised that night to act; otherwise, I would have strangled you.”

“Another capital crime,” murmured Shoffer with a grin.

“This is not funny,” cried Millicent.

“No, I grant you it is not and you have put me in the most untenable position. When the truth comes out no one will believe me to have been in such close quarters with you and unaware of your deceit. I shall, both Beth and I, be ostracized.”

Millicent sniffed and stiffened her spine. “Oh, I do apologize. Forgive me, do, I beg you. While I am hung by the neck until dead and my mother and sisters deported to Botany Bay, I shall most certainly grieve for the six parties and two soirées a season for which high sticklers will not send you invitations.”

It was Shoffer’s turn to groan and clutch at his hair. “I do not mean to deny the danger you are in, but you should have considered the whole before…”

“The whole? My dear duke, do not be more of a fool than me! On one hand, I ran the risk of death from starvation, abuse, and degradation. On the other hand, I could protect and provide for my family. Can you swear to me, sir, that if our positions were reversed, you would not have done the same? But wait, you have no knowledge of deprivation. In your whole life you have never missed a meal, except by your own choice, or gone cold and hungry to a flea ridden bed you must share with half a dozen unwashed strangers.”