Sinful Seduction (4 page)

And his groan of frustration did nothing to soften her heart. Served the bugger right. It was all very well for blokes; they could take their pleasure and walk away without a second thought. She snorted. They could afford to. They weren't the ones left holding the baby, were they? She shuddered. And marriage - if you could get it - wasn't much better. No money, a brood of snotty kids at your feet - with another on the way every year, as like as not. She should cocoa! She was perfectly happy as she was, thank you very much.

Tucking away a few stray tendrils, she pinned her bonnet in place, smoothed down the folds of her new lilac print dress and smiled. It was her birthday, it was her half-day off - and she had five bob in her pocket to spend exactly as she pleased.

The day was infinite with possibilities. She could take a walk along the market and see if she could find a new straw hat to go with her dress. She could sit in the park and watch the soldiers strutting by in their scarlet uniforms. She could even be daring and go to a matinee at the new music hall.

But then these pleasant thoughts were rudely interrupted as the door flew open and Emily burst in, red-faced and breathless. ‘Yer gotta come right away, Maggie,' she gasped. ‘Mrs H wants yer.'

‘But it's my afternoon off,' protested Maggie. ‘I'm going out.'

‘Not any more yer not,' contradicted Emily. ‘Come on, get yer arse moving - don't just stand there gawping like a booby.'

With a sigh of exasperation, Maggie threw her dolly-bag on the bed and followed Emily downstairs, and as she took in the scene in the kitchen her mouth fell open in shock. Mrs H was sitting in front of the range, rocking backwards and forwards, and sobbing in the corner was Millie, her ladyship's personal maid, her bags piled round her in an untidy heap. Maggie gawped at her; this pathetic creature bore no resemblance to the snooty little madam who thought herself a cut above everybody else. There was no sign of her airs and graces now. What the hell was going on?

She soon found out.

‘In the club, ain't she,' snapped Mrs H, and at the words there was another wail from the corner. Mrs H ignored it. ‘Stupid little cow,' she spat, glaring at the snivelling girl. ‘Out on her ear without a reference. And what am I supposed to do now, that's what I want to know? With young master Jeremy back from India next week there'll be all sorts of goings on - not to mention her ladyship going off to the ball tonight and no maid to do for her.'

Her lips set tightly. ‘There's nothing for it,' she announced, staring grimly at Maggie. ‘You'll have to take over.'

‘Me?' squeaked Maggie, in disbelief. ‘I've never even been upstairs, ‘cept on errands. I ain't no lady's maid.'

‘Nothing to it,' said Mrs H dismissively. ‘If that half-witted little mare could do it, so can you. You're a smart clean girl. You can sew and iron, can't yer?' Maggie nodded dumbly. ‘That's settled then,' said Mrs H in relief. ‘Lucky you're the same size as Millie. Get yourself back upstairs and changed into her uniform, then I'll give yer a quick run through while her ladyship's at afternoon tea in the drawing room.'

 

By the time Maggie returned the pile of bags was gone and Millie had disappeared as if she'd never existed. It was as if the streets she'd come from had opened and swallowed her up again. Maggie shivered; what would happen to her now?

She didn't have time to think about it for long. ‘Very nice,' smiled Mrs H. ‘Now straighten your cap and apron and come with me.'

Keys jangling she heaved herself to her feet and indicated to Maggie to follow her up the backstairs and through the green baize servants' door into the main house. ‘This is her ladyship's room,' she announced, leading Maggie in. Maggie nodded. She'd had brief glimpses of it before, when she'd carried up hot water or buckets of coal, but then she'd had to keep her eyes down and scurry about her tasks as unobtrusively as possible. Now she had time to look round and take it all in at her leisure.

A heavily carved dressing table took up half one wall, its surface cluttered with packets of papier poudre, tiny crystal pin dishes, a silver backed brush and hand mirror and a large leather jewel case. Rich turkey carpets covered the polished floor. A satin spread covered the bed and the pillows were adorned with flounces of the same Honiton lace that her majesty was so fond of. Small occasional tables were covered with ornaments and an enormous vase filled with peacock feathers stood at the window. Over everything hung the cloying smell of attar of roses.

An ornate morning gown lay discarded across the bed, and Mrs H picked it up and shook it out. A torn flounce trailed on the carpet and she tutted. ‘That'll have to be sewn back on,' she grumbled. ‘You can start with that.' She wagged a finger. ‘Remember that; nothing's to be put back in the wardrobe until the buttons and frills have been checked and it's been sponged and pressed.'

Maggie nodded, her head spinning as Mrs H continued to instruct her in her new duties. Fetching and carrying, doing her ladyship's hair, and seeing to her clothes and jewels. Everything, in fact, from dressing her ladyship in the morning to undressing her again when it was time to go to bed. God's strewth, it wouldn't have surprised her in the least if Mrs H had informed her she'd have to pee for her employer as well!

‘What are you grinning at?' the woman demanded suspiciously.

‘Nothing, Mrs H,' Maggie said meekly. ‘Just trying to remember everything.'

‘Well see that you do, girl,' came the cross reply. ‘I ain't got time to go over it all again. Her ladyship's guests will be leaving soon. You gotta help her out of her afternoon gown, see to her bath then get everything laid out for this ball tonight - and I don't want no complaints either. Just you see you do everything proper.'

Maggie nodded apprehensively and Mrs H softened. ‘Don't worry, love, you'll do fine,' she said. ‘First time's the worst - but I'll give you a hand to set you off.' She glanced at the fob watch pinned to the front of her black gown. ‘Just time for a cuppa before you get started.'

 

‘This is Carter, your ladyship,' Mrs Hardcastle said formally. ‘She'll be taking over from Evans.' Maggie bobbed a nervous curtsey as Lady Georgina looked her over.

‘I suppose she'll have to do,' sighed her ladyship. ‘Though how I'm supposed to manage without Evans I do not know. Her leaving is most inconvenient.'

Maggie bit her lip. Typical. ‘Her leaving' indeed. As if the poor girl had any choice. Chucked out with a full belly - and all this pampered bitch could worry about was the ‘inconvenience'. Selfish cow!

‘Don't just stand there, girl,' she ordered. ‘Undress me and loose my stays.' She turned her back to reveal a row of tiny buttons from neck to waist, so Maggie hurried forward and began to undo them. When that was done, and her ladyship helped out of her dress, bustle and petticoats, she turned her attention to the tightly laced stays, and her ladyship gave a groan of pleasure as the rolls of tightly compressed flesh escaped.

‘Fetch my wrap,' she snapped, glancing at the ormolu clock. ‘I shall have a short nap before this evening's ball. You may bring a tray at six then help me bathe and prepare.' She glared at Mrs Hardcastle. ‘I presume she can dress hair?'

‘Of course, my lady,' Mrs H said smoothly.

 

By the time Maggie had sewn the offending flounce back onto her ladyship's morning gown, there was barely time to grab a slice of bread and cheese before it was time to take up her tray. As she ate, her ladyship issued a stream of orders and Maggie found herself fetching gown after gown as madam made her decision. Finally she chose a low-cut maroon silk.

‘My jewels, now,' she ordered, and considered the glittering trove as Maggie held the heavy leather box. ‘I think I shall wear the garnets,' she decided at last. ‘Now where are those idle girls? My bath should have been ready by this time.'

Maggie supervised as the hipbath was brought and filled. Trying to avoid the sight of her ladyship's bulging breasts and thighs, she helped her into it, and afterwards she held a soft warm towel to wrap her in as she stepped out. It was like bathing an enormous, bad-tempered baby! And that was only the beginning.

‘Tighter, girl, tighter!' her ladyship panted as Maggie hauled on the laces of her stays. Maggie suppressed a groan; talk about trying to get a quart into a pint pot! By the time she'd done it to her ladyship's satisfaction she could hardly breath - and neither could her employer. Stockings, fresh drawers and the inevitable bustle were followed by a dozen petticoats before Maggie could finally slip the maroon silk over her ladyship's head and begin doing up the tiny buttons.

‘Hurry up, girl,' she snapped. ‘Look at the time, and my hair's not done yet. His lordship will be here and I'm not even half ready,' and the words were accompanied by a slap that made Maggie's ears ring.

‘Yes, m'm,' she muttered, hurrying to obey and receiving another couple of slaps for her pains; once for tugging her ladyship's hair as she brushed it, and then again when her efforts were deemed unsatisfactory.

‘Take it down and do it all again,' she was told.

Finally it was finished to madam's satisfaction. Maggie fastened the clasp of the garnet necklace and stepped back with a sigh of relief as her ladyship preened herself in the mirror. ‘That will do,' she said grudgingly.

Maggie bit her lip. And thank you too! She might be her ladyship, but she was no lady. Sitting there, her heavy, bad-tempered face flushed from the pressure of her corsets, she looked like nothing more than the fat, overdressed wife of a costermonger!

‘What are you gawping at, girl?' the woman demanded. ‘Get this place tidied up.' She indicated the discarded clothes strewn around the room.

‘Yes m'm,' Maggie said meekly, anxious to avoid yet another blow, and she had barely begun when the door opened and his lordship strutted in.

‘Not ready yet, Georgie?' he said genially. ‘I've ordered Harris to bring the carriage round in ten minutes.'

‘Of course, dear,' cooed her ladyship, fluttering round like an overweight butterfly. ‘I only have my wrap to put on.' Her smile disappeared and she clicked her fingers at Maggie. ‘Fetch it, girl. I don't want to keep his lordship waiting.'

‘Right away, m'm,' Maggie said, bringing the fringed monstrosity and slipping it round the bulging shoulders, and as she did so she was uncomfortably aware of his lordship's piggy eyes on her. Despite the heavy serge uniform, she suddenly felt naked.

‘This is a new face,' he commented. ‘What happened to Evans?'

Her ladyship turned scarlet. ‘Er... I had to let her go,' she muttered, avoiding his eyes. ‘She proved to be unsatisfactory.' She waved a dismissive hand. ‘This is Carter.'

Maggie bobbed another curtsey, uncomfortably aware of his gaze lingering on her breasts.

‘My evening bag, Carter,' ordered her ladyship, turning to give herself one last smug glance in the mirror, and Maggie turned away with relief.

But it didn't last long. As she walked past his lordship to hand it to her, he ran a swift hand over the curve of her buttocks, concluding his explorations with a sharp pinch. Maggie stifled an outraged squeak.

‘Is there something wrong, Carter?' her ladyship asked icily.

‘N-no m'm,' muttered Maggie, lowering her eyes and restraining the urge to rub her bottom. Bastard! If Thomas the footman had tried that little lark, he'd be nursing a slapped face for his pains.

‘In that case, do try to sound less like something from the barnyard,' sighed her ladyship. ‘Come Edward, the carriage will be waiting.' As she waddled out, Lord Edward turned at the door and gave Maggie a salacious wink, and she stared after him, seething helplessly. The man was a pig despite his title and fine clothes.

 

By the time Maggie had supervised the removal of the hipbath, tidied the room, made the bed again and pulled back the sheets for her ladyship's return, she was exhausted.

‘My plates are killing me,' she moaned, down in the kitchen.

‘Never mind, I saved you a bite to eat, love,' said Mrs H, sympathetically. ‘Put yer feet up and get something inside yer.' Gratefully, Maggie slipped off her shoes and accepted the food and the glass of porter that accompanied it. Once it was finished she sighed, fetched the sewing box and set to, replacing several buttons that had failed to take the strain of her ladyship's bosom.

She was nodding over her work when she heard the sound of the front door opening. A quick glance at the kitchen clock showed that it was almost two in the morning. She groaned; she still had her ladyship to see to before she could fall into her own bed. The bell for Lady Georgina's bedroom jangled imperiously and she got stiffly to her feet and hurried to answer it.

‘About time too,' snapped her ladyship, putting a plump hand to her forehead. ‘I am absolutely exhausted. Undress me - and be quick about it.'

Once again Maggie hurried to obey, but her fingers were slow with tiredness and she earned herself another blow when she fumbled clumsily at the tiny buttons. Finally she slipped the silk nightgown over Lady Georgina's head and held the covers as she slipped beneath them. At last, she could go to her own bed.