Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  “No, I don’t.” A bunch of grapes caught his attention and he put it on his plate. “You haven’t told me your question.”

  She closed her eyes and groaned. “All right. If I can arrange for Rosemary to come here for a party, would you ask her to dance? It would have to be a party where there is dancing for that’s what she likes the very best. But she gets shy in company and does not show herself well. She wants to go so badly but she will likely wish she hadn’t if she does.”

  “Yes. I’ll ask her to dance as many times as you want me to. In fact, I shall keep watch and whenever I see she is not taken, I shall see to it that she is.”

  “I’ve withdrawn the question, though, Mr. Best. It would be entirely unfair to you.”

  “If Rosemary comes, it will be my pleasure to pay her some attention.”

  Unbidden, a little truth came to Fleur. Mr. Best was too nice for her. He would be the kind of husband who got his pleasure from seeing his wife’s pleasure, and never say a harsh word to her. They would never marry, but if they did, she would become bored.

  How horrid she was. “Thank you for being so kind. I doubt it will happen, but if Rosemary does come I shall alert you. But you don’t have to do more than dance with her once. Or perhaps twice.”

  He grinned and bit off a grape.

  With the clearing of his throat, Dominic let them know he had arrived near the table again. He didn’t pause but looked meaningfully at Fleur’s hand where it rested on Mr. Best’s. Once more Dominic proceeded through the long, narrow room with measured steps. He did stop to pick up Chloe and let her kiss him soundly. He kissed her back and whispered in her ear until she giggled. Then he put her down and continued on to the shell collection room.

  “One wonders what Lord Dominic fears,” Mr. Best said. “We are chaperoned. There are servants about.”

  “He takes his responsibilities seriously,” Fleur said, chagrined by Dominic’s behavior. “Oh, my goodness. You read the Voice today, you must have. That’s why you thought you should apologize.”

  “My mother read the piece in the Voice to me,” Mr. Best said. “First of all, I am grateful you were not badly hurt. I’m sure it was a frightening experience and Mergatroyd should be pilloried. Secondly, I want you to know that rather than detract from you, that silly Mercury woman’s article will help make you even more of a success than you already are, so don’t be upset by it.”

  “You are the nicest of men,” Fleur told him and meant every word.

  “And you are a delight. With luck we may become friends. But I did hope to have a chance to point something out to you, and my visit here makes me more determined to do so regardless. Of course you may choose to ignore me but I think you would do well to consider this question. Does Lord Dominic want you to find a husband? And if not, why not?”

  24

  “You should have asked my permission first.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He should have known it was a mistake to allow a woman to think of herself as his partner. “I have no reason to ask your permission to do anything, Mouse.”

  Without taking her eyes from him, she undid her bonnet and threw it aside, then removed her pelisse. “You seem to forget that this was my idea in the first place. You are becoming a rich man and you have me to thank for it. And don’t call me Mouse. I told you that for our purposes my name is Owl.”

  “Cat and Mouse. Much more appropriate.” She let out an agitated sigh. “What you have done will have everyone in London watching for you. Let me remind you that we are becoming a power to be dealt with and you will need me more than you ever have. Do not make the mistake of acting without me again.”

  “My Mouse shows her little teeth,” he said. He would have the upper hand here, always. He sat while she stood beside him, her head held high. “What I chose to reveal to the papers was part of the plan,” he told her. “As long as there was any doubt about my intentions—or even the fact that I exist—they could pretend they were safe.”

  “Fie,” she said. “Who could doubt your existence? Some say the women you took were probably making up stories to cover some indiscretion. Those people are like animals who close their eyes and assume they are invisible. I don’t see how threats in the newspaper will convince anyone of anything.”

  He spread his arms along the back of the couch, deliberately making sure his Chinese silk robe gaped open. This woman posed as a lady but, as he already knew, her sexual enthusiasm was rivaled by few. He looked forward to an exhilarating game of cat and mouse. He laughed at his own little joke. First he would establish his superiority and her weakness, then he would toy with her.

  “My plan,” he told her, “is to carry out a mission in the near future and to take it to its ultimate conclusion.”

  “Your plan? We make these decisions together. The moment I arrived I told you that we must make sure our threats are taken seriously.”

  So she had, but that was beside the point. “I had already made up my mind how to proceed.”

  He had her attention and she was angry—just the way he liked her best. She wasn’t fast enough to move out of reach when he gripped the back of her skirts and began to lift them slowly.

  “Stop it! Stop it now.”

  “The Cat does as he pleases,” he told her, gathering the material and raising it to the level of her waist. “And, as we’ve agreed, we have a great deal to discuss, so why not make the best of the time we have together? I can do more than one thing at a time and I’m sure you can, too”

  She batted at him, wriggled, pulled. He enjoyed it when she tried to fight him off. It gave him a deep thrill, even if her ill-hidden smile belied her outrage.

  With a single yank he landed her facedown across his knees and tore her silk drawers apart while she shrieked at him.

  He slapped her white bottom, leaving red marks, and his Mouse reared up, her face red and eyes bright, oblivious to the way her large breasts billowed against his thighs and all but fell from her bodice.

  “Hit me again and I’ll—”

  He slapped her several times. “And you’ll love it?” Smoothing his hand between her legs and finding just the right spot to make her spread her legs wider apart excited him. “We must take our time preparing for our next adventure because it may be our last.”

  “Yes,” she panted, reaching back to hold his hand more tightly against her while she jerked her hips. “Hurry up. Do it.”

  “I was talking about our next adventure to punish the ton.”

  “I know what you were talking about,” she said. “You never said why you are angry with the ton,” she said.

  “And neither did you,” he pointed out. “You are quick to remind me that it was your idea in the first place. What made you so angry with them?”

  Evidently tired of his measured pace, his Mouse swung herself to straddle one of his thighs. “History doesn’t matter. Only the future.” She rubbed herself against his leg. “I want you to get rid of that boy.”

  Her mind couldn’t stay with any subject but her own pleasure. “That won’t happen,” he told her.

  “He creeps about and just looking at him makes me sick. All those scabs. For all you know he carries diseases.”

  “Harry doesn’t carry any diseases.” Taking her bodice and camisole in both hands, he tore them in two all the way to her belly. Now he was the one who must concentrate. “Don’t mention the boy again.”

  “Well, I don’t like—”

  “You have nothing to do with him. How do you feel about riding?”

  “Don’t change the subject.” She managed to fill her eyes with tears. “Look what you’ve done to my dress. How do you suppose I’ll explain this?”

  “I have faith in your ability to lie your way out of anything, my dear.” He bounced her on his naked thigh. His sash had worked loose and the robe hung from his shoulders.

  Her face turned pale and she closed her eyes, let her head hang back. “Yes, yes,” she murmured.

  “No, no.” He la
ughed. “I am not in a hurry today and I intend to take my time.” He pulled the sash free, looped it around her breasts, and raised them until her puckered nipples pointed up. “Look at that, Mouse. How many women could I do this to? Firm white mounds with cherries begging for attention.”

  She leaped away from him, inflamed him with her teasing smile and the way she touched herself. “If you really want me you’ll have to prove it.” Her voice slid higher. “Prove it , Mr. Cat. Make me stroke you. But first we have to concentrate on our plans.”

  He rose from the couch and advanced on her. “I’m not sure I want to make plans first. Perhaps I want more of this instead.” He closed his large hands over her breasts, held them like pieces of fruit and ignored her shrieks and the ineffectual flapping of her hands. She waved her hands but allowed him to squeeze her flesh, to nip and suck it, and didn’t try to get away.

  Her fingers took possession of him. “The masthead is eager today,” she told him. “And it’s still the most impressive in the land.”

  “So you have seen every contender in the land? Congratulations.” Breath hissed in through his teeth. She pushed him between her thighs in a parody of sex.

  “Give me the sash,” he told her, stopping himself from letting go and taking her, but with difficulty. “I’m going to show you something in a little while. First I have to get it ready. We can talk at the same time.”

  “Mmm.” She pretended to consider without ceasing the rhythmic squeezing of his rod between her rounded thighs. “Well, I suppose I’ll give it to you, as long as we can get our business done. I want it settled.”

  When she dangled the sash in the air, he took it from her, slid the coarse Chinese silk through her fingers. And while she continued to slap herself against him, he tied the first knot, then another and another.

  “What are you doing with it?” she asked, and looked him in the eye. “Oh, I think I know. You are so naughty, but I may enjoy what you have in mind.”

  Some of it, he thought.

  “I have chosen our next victim,” she told him and chuckled when he removed himself from the grip of her thighs. “This time everything will be different. We will leave all the beautiful people breathless, terrified—afraid for every woman of marriageable age.”

  “You have decided?” he said, continuing to make knots in the long sash. “Feel that.” He held out the sash and she touched one of the sharp, pointy knots he had made.

  Her frown pleased him.

  “This woman presents us with a rare opportunity,” she said. “She is unlike all the others, and what happens to her will be unlike anything that has happened to the others.”

  It was her fault he couldn’t wait until the discussion was finished. “Take off the rest of your clothes.”

  She started to wrap them around her but he spun her around and yanked the clothing away. Holding her elbows to her sides, he sank to a knee and bit her derriere.

  “First we talk,” she said, squirming to get away.

  In response he tipped her to her back on the floor, pinned her shoulders with his calves and pushed inside her mouth. “You know what to do. No, just suck, I’ll do the rest.” He moved in and out and put his hands behind him to pinch her nipples. She drew up her knees and rocked them from side to side.

  “Stop,” he ordered, panting, on the brink. But he had always been in perfect control and he gave nothing he didn’t want to give. “Come. There is so much more.”

  He pulled her to her feet and walked her rapidly backward. At each step she stumbled and held his arms tighter. Now he felt her fear and he grew so hard, so tight, he dragged in his gut to distract from the pain. To his delicious spiral staircase he took her and there he lay her back against the treads.

  “You’re hurting me,” she whined. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

  “It will be,” he told her and pushed the first knot inside her, then the next.

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Who is it you really seek to punish? Not the woman, surely.” Another knot entered her.

  “I want to punish them both.” She hitched her heels beneath her and pushed higher up the stairs, attempting to get away from him.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “Yes. Very cold. I need to get warm or I shall take a chill and be of no use to you.”

  “We can’t have that.” Rising over her, he allowed the robe to cover them both. “Like a desert tent,” he said, grinning. “And I am some warrior who has born you away to help me with my fantasies.”

  “You are ill.”

  “And you aren’t?” He positioned another knot at the entrance to her vagina and pushed it home with his rigid cock.

  She screamed, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to receive his tongue.

  A man’s job was to oblige a woman in such situations.

  Slowly they ascended the stairs and slowly, thrusting harder each time, he buried the sash inside her.

  Pushing up on one arm, he gathered her up and half dragged, half carried her the rest of the way. She gasped. Her head lolled back. He feasted his eyes on her ripe body and felt some slight regret that within days or weeks that body would be lifeless, but it had to be. As long as she lived she would be a threat to him.

  At the top of the stairs he considered setting all of his music boxes to tinkling but decided he couldn’t spare the time. Instead he pressed this woman without scruples backward over a leather chair, the chair where he sometimes came to listen to his inhuman musical chorus. He bent her so far that her hair brushed the seat.

  “I can’t breathe” she panted.

  With the weight of her breasts lying as it did, he had no doubt breathing could be a feat. But breathe she would.

  Again he penetrated her, sending the sash, wet and stiff with the essence of her sex, and of his, scraping high into her darkest places.

  He hadn’t expected her to turn mad on him. Slapping his face, pulling his hair, his ears, she set out to get him off her. And he only slammed into her more ferociously than he ever had with any woman.

  “Calm yourself,” he told her grimly. “Relax and enjoy. If you don’t panic, what you’re feeling can take you to paradise.”

  He felt the instant when her orgasm began and moved faster. “Come to me. Let me lift you. Put your legs around me and use all those lovely, strong muscles of yours.”

  “Yes,” she all but whispered, but she did as he asked and soon, as he bucked her up and down and their cries mingled, his climax let go, flooded into her, and not a second passed before she joined him, bouncing up and down like a deranged mare mounted by a stallion.

  She grew still. Cold air slid around them. Reaching his fingers inside her, he removed the sash, knot by knot, while she moaned at each fresh assault on injuries to her most tender skin.

  Now he would tell her how things would be. She lay on the carpet and he covered her with his robe. “There will be three more victims. Then I shall stop.”

  “One more victim,” she said. “This time I will help directly.”

  Keeping quiet stoked seething anger in him, but he clamped his teeth together.

  “This one will prove to all London that we have always meant what we threatened.”

  We? There was no we. He could kill her now and she would never be found.

  “The girl is Fleur Toogood. And I can’t think of a better time than at the ball they will hold for her at Heatherly tomorrow.”

  “Too soon,” he told her immediately.

  “Tomorrow!”

  This one could already be a liability, this vengeful woman who had shown no interest in the money they had received in ransoms. “You must count on the Elliots to pay her ransom. I didn’t think her family had money.”

  “The ransom request will not go to the Elliots. We will send it to her family, just as we’ve done with the others.”

  “But if they have no money, they’ll go directly to the Dowager or Lord Dominic.”

  She curled
up on her side and rested her face on her hands. “The note will be explicit. If the ransom is not paid within twelve hours—”

  “She will lose her virginity,” he interrupted. “To me.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Mouse sounded huffy. “But this must happen tomorrow. I cannot wait any longer.”

  “It will happen when everything is carefully prepared,” he told her. “If that can be tomorrow, all well and good. If not, then soon.”

  “Tomorrow, I say.”

  “That decision is mine.”

  She breathed hard. “The ransom note will not be received in time for the Toogoods to plead for financial help.”

  “Meaning?”

  “They don’t live in London. I have managed to get their address. By the time they get the note, it will all be over.”

  He expanded his chest silently. “The Granvilles will pay up.”

  “The instructions will not be sent to the Granvilles. They will start a search for her, of course, but they will have no notion where to look—any more than the rest have.”

  He shrugged. “If that’s what will make you happy. You wound me. I had thought you wanted to keep me all to yourself.”

  “If you rape her, it is for your own satisfaction. What will be in the letter that arrives too late and too far away, is that within twelve hours, Fleur Toogood will die. Only the twelve hours will already have passed.”

  25

  They arrived at the top of a hill and Lawrence, standing in his stirrups, pointed ahead to what looked like a black scar in the shape of a crescent flanking the tenant cottages. “I thought you’d want to see, m’lord,” he said to Dominic. “Noel De-Beaufort tells me his men have to have a temporary open space to collect soil and rocks. And he reckons that’s the best spot because it doesn’t interfere with livestock or crops.”

  Dominic had seen what he needed to see. He leaned forward and crossed his arms on his horse’s neck. “It’s also closer to the grounds than any other place he could choose. Helps keep his labor costs down, although I doubt we shall see the benefit of that. Regardless, these people look to us to protect their interests.”