Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (30 page)

It was astonishing that she could adopt
flippancy toward such an outrage. How could she consider herself
one of the “fortunate ones”? He remembered reading the accounts of
slavery penned by Thomas Clarkson, but the worst abuses seemed to
fall upon the male slaves. Charles did not believe female slaves
managed to escape maltreatment, but till he had seen the evidence
of it before his own eyes, he had harbored some hope that the worst
of it did not fall upon the gentler sex. He would have it out of
Miss Terrell.

Which meant seeking her out. Less than four
and twenty hours ago, he had been on the verge of seeing her tossed
out of the Red Chrysanthemum. What if he had not torn her shirt?
How far would he have gone to punish her for her deed? He could not
know because he had not meditated upon what he would do. He acted
only in the moment, but, now that he had the capacity of
reflection, he found the force of the emotions guiding him last
night vexing. He could think of no one who had ever riled him
so.

And aroused him.

Despite his anger and abhorrence for her
actions, the lust in his body had not waned. He’d wanted to possess
her. On his terms. And it had been as glorious as ever he could
imagine. Trapping her to the wall, hearing her pant beneath him,
caressing the supple flesh between her thighs, he’d known he had to
claim her. It had mattered not that they stood in a dark alley,
barely able to see each other, risking the more dangerous elements
of the night finding them. His desires would not be denied.

Her cunnie was magnificent. How it clutched
his shaft. How the walls rippled along his length. He’d felt the
effect all the way to his toes. Her strength, both times, when she
had ridden his cock in the chair and when she had received his
thrusts against the alley wall, amazed him. In a different
position, perhaps upon her back with her knees to her head, he
could penetrate her deeper. He would like to see her brow furrowed
in ecstasy once more.

No, he would not.

But the growing bulge at his crotch belied
his conviction. He took up his cup of coffee as a distraction from
his hardened cock, but the beverage was no longer hot. He sought to
adjust his trousers, but, remembering how her moist heat had
encased him, he cupped his erection instead. Perhaps it was time to
be done with breakfast. He could read the paper after he attended
to—

“Mr. Warren is here to see you.”

Charles straightened and leaned toward the
table.
Damn Wang
, he thought to himself. The slender Chinese
servant always managed to steal into rooms with hardly a whisper. A
former sailor for the East India Company, Wang had lost half his
right arm when the rigging for a load of cargo had failed to hold.
It was Wang who had taught Charles the Chinese language and
facilitated his travel beyond the factory in Canton.

“The Returning Officer?” Charles
replied.

“Yes. Shall I advise him to return at a
later time?”

Wang maintained his customary stoic
countenance, as if he had only the blandest of reasons for his
proposal, but Charles knew better. Nothing escaped the notice of
those eyes, darker than even those of Miss Terrell.

“Let him know I am not yet done with
breakfast, but he is welcome to join me,” Charles answered.

If he needed an antidote from the sort of
lustful desires Miss Terrell engendered, the square-faced and podgy
Returning Officer fit the bill.

“Mighty considerate of you, Mr. Gallant,”
Jonathan Warren said when Wang had shown him into the breakfast
room.

After shaking hands, Charles said, “Please,
partake of what you will. There is far more here than I can
finish.”

Mr. Warren sat his rotund frame into a chair
and began piling several slices of ham onto a plate. “Having come
here as fast as I could, I did not take my customary
breakfast.”

“Something amiss, Mr. Warren?”

“Something I thought to bring to your
attention, Mr. Gallant. Spoke with two men who expect to be voting.
Each let on that Mr. Laurel is paying them no less than 20
shillings a man for votes.”

Charles watched Mr. Warren cover his ham
with a ladle of beans. “I did not know Mr. Laurel to possess that
kind of funding.”

“He must have a wealthy benefactor. I know
not your situation, Mr. Gallant, but I always thought you would
make a right good MP, as your father would have before you. Of
course, I will oversee the election with the utmost propriety.”

“I should hope so, Mr. Warren.”

“Which is why I refused an offer from an
anonymous person of some two hundred shillings to skew the votes in
favor of Mr. Laurel,” Mr. Warren said with a mouthful of ham and
beans, “though my wife fair threw me out of my own house for
refusing. You see, I have a brother in a poor way, and we do what
we can to help him. This leaves my wife and I rather thin.”

“Given this situation you describe, you are
a most virtuous man to have declined the inducement.”

Mr. Warren slowed his heretofore zestful
chewing of his food. Charles suspected it was not praise the man
was truly after.

“You flatter me, Mr. Gallant. I am more a
simple man, and I profess no love for the color blue, but my wife
can be most insistent. Wives can be quite the nuisance. When you
are married—although, I do not mean to suggest the future Mrs.
Gallant will be anything but delightful—”

“I could not be party to a bribe, Mr.
Warren.”

“’Course, ’course. I always thought you and
your father to be honest men. Honest as they come.”

“But I do believe in rewarding those who do
right in the face of temptation and corruption.”

The man brightened.

“I would not wish to win in a false
election,” Charles continued, “but perhaps you can apply to me for
assistance with regards to your brother
after
the election,
which, in your hands, I trust will be conducted without
fraudulence.”

“’Course, ’course, Mr. Gallant.”

Satisfied with his prospects, Mr. Warren
turned his full attention upon his food. Charles, feeling the
Returning Officer consumed enough for the both of them, took only a
fresh cup of coffee. His schedule for the day included several
hours canvassing voters and tea with the widow of a former MP of
Porter’s Hill and her more influential friends. He had also
received an invitation to attend a dinner party at the Dempsey
residence. After that, the Red Chrysanthemum awaited him.

And Miss Terrell.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“O
w!”

Terrell winced as the needle pricked her
finger. The ribbon of her bonnet had begun to shred in a most
inconvenient spot. The whole bonnet needed replacing, for the straw
had thinned in two parts, but she decided she would replace the
ribbon first. She allowed herself a sigh for the beautiful bonnets
she’d once possessed.

No. She never had possession of the bonnets.
From shiny baubles to undergarments, these were always the property
of the man.
She
was once property, no different from the
inanimate accessories that she prized.

“Done early with Sir Arthur tonight?” Sarah
asked as she entered their room with George. Sitting upon her bed,
she undid her stays and settled the little boy upon her lap to
nurse.

“He was content to have my mouth,” Terrell
replied, setting aside her bonnet and needle. She knew she ought to
reinforce the stitching once more, but she had little affinity for
needlework. “And I am content to provide it for I can make quick
work of a man with it.”

“How quick?”

“With Sir Arthur tonight, I think it five
minutes.”

“Five minutes!”

“I’ve finished a man in as few as two
before.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped. “You are truly
skilled! I would that I had such a talent.”

“I think not. I’ve had to swallow many a
cock. They are not all as fine as—”

She stopped.
Not all as fine as that of
Master Gallant,
she had nearly said.

“What?” Sarah prodded. “As beefsteak?”

They shared a laugh.

“In truth, I try not to look in the
direction of
that
,” Sarah said. “I know not why their sex
reveres this appendage. To me, it is not at all an attractive part
of the body.”

Terrell said nothing, for she could not stop
thinking of Master Gallant’s cock. She thought it a very
attractive, very delightful appendage. She would take it over
beefsteak any and every day. She could not have been happier that
Sir Arthur’s visit proved a short one. All day, she had replayed
her moments with Master Gallant. After returning to the inn last
night and creeping into her bed, for Sarah and George were already
asleep, it had taken her some time to fall asleep for the giddiness
and anticipation in her. Counting the hours, she wondered that she
could wait to see him again.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Terrell looked up. “Hm?”

Sarah observed her friend. “You came to bed
late last night. Did you have to service another patron?”

“In a manner.”

“I wonder that Madame is aware of Sir
Arthur’s disposition and his jealous nature?”

“It was not at Madame’s request,” Terrell
admitted, feeling ill at ease with prevaricating to the only person
she might deem a friend.

“I shared my reservations with you
concerning Sir Arthur.”

“And I do not mean to disregard your
well-intentioned advice, but I do not know that Sir Arthur’s
interest in me will last. I must weigh the risk with the
reward.”

She surprised herself with just how much she
was willing to risk to have Master Gallant. She hoped that Miss
Katherine would not need to attend her mother-in-law tonight.
Despite his forceful show of passion in the alley, Gallant still
refused to accept her for his submissive.

“If you must,” sighed Sarah. “Who was the
lucky gentleman last night?”

Terrell did not immediately reply. The
answer might only distress Sarah, though the woman was aware of her
interest in Master Gallant. A part of her did want to confide in
Sarah.

“I would not burden you,” Terrell responded
before further delay would rouse suspicion. “It is of no
consequence.”

“Burden me? Why would you think it a
burden?”

Realizing she might have misspoken, Terrell
said, “Because you fret of Sir Arthur and how he might react.”

But Sarah did not seem placated. “Do I know
the gentleman?”

Not wanting to lie, Terrell relented.
“Yes.”

She offered no more and picked at a hole in
the bedclothes. Sarah, too, was silent.

“Pray, tell me it is not so!” she said at
last.

“Of what do you speak?” asked Terrell,
though she kept her gaze averted.

“You sly skirt! Master Gallant!”

Dread and relief battled for primacy, but
she could not stymie the grin that spread her lips.

Sarah’s mouth dropped a second time. She
disengaged George, who had grown drowsy from the nursing, and
curled him in her arms.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed softly.
“After what you told me…but how…what will Madame think? Will she
allow it?”

“I have no intention of informing Madame,”
Terrell said firmly. “As for Master Gallant, I should not be
surprised if he woke with the greatest regrets over what had
happened. I doubt I could succeed a second time with him.”

“Do you? I rather doubt that. You always
seem to possess such assurance with regards to their sex.”

“Yes, but Master Gallant is different.”

“In a way I respect and admire.”

“Yes,” Terrell replied, pensive. She
understood how his recalcitrance might fuel her sense of sport. She
wanted to prove herself. But there was more than vanity,
competition or curiosity at play.

“In truth, it quite surprises me that he is
a member here,” Sarah added. “But tell me, if you will indulge in
some detail, how did you manage to seduce him?”

“I forced myself upon him.”

“Indeed? How so?”

“You’ve no wish to know,” Terrell murmured,
and was glad that Sarah accepted the wisdom of her caution.

“And he did not resist?”

The memories flashed through Terrell’s mind,
and she felt the stirrings of a familiar warmth. How marvelous his
cock had felt inside her mouth, how arousing his groans and grunts,
how intoxicating to have this formidable dominant surrendering to
the pleasure her body wrought upon him. And the thrill of being
taken by him, pressed against the wall in that alley, his strong
arms holding her up as he thrust into her over and over again.

“He resisted, but…”

“You prevailed.”

“I only hope he does not hate me for
it.”

Terrell recalled the blaze of anger in his
eyes and his rough handling of her after she had freed him of his
bonds. Her heartbeat had quickened for several reasons. Though she
did not fear a coarse hand, she had never witnessed it in Master
Gallant. But she had exalted in the spanking, in having unleashed
the dominant in him. Her arse had smarted for some time
afterwards.

“I cannot envision Gallant to have such
ungracious feelings toward you for his own weakness.”

“Mine was not a noble seduction, if such a
thing exists.”

“Gallant is a grown man, intelligent, and
able to fend for himself.”

Terrell shook her head. “I forced his
hand.”

Sarah looked at her in surprise. “It sounds
as if you are the one filled with regret.”

“Of my actions, yes. Of the outcome,
no.”

“He proved a good tumble then,” Sarah
grinned.

“M’lady!” Terrell responded with mock
horror.

“I would that I had your fortune!”

Terrell smiled, marveling for the first time
at her own accomplishment.

“But I am not as bold as you,” Sarah
continued. “You would have him a second time. That is clear as
day.”