Suffragette in the City

by Katie MacAlister

  “How nice to see you again, Mr. St. John,” I stood and shook his hand, my breath caught in throat as his fingers lingered a moment on mine. “Are you enjoying the opera?”

  “Not particularly. Helena wanted me to attend. She thought it would be good for my uncivilized soul. I’m glad to see you have suffered no ill effects from this morning’s trial.”

  His eyes laughed at me, and I felt giddy with happiness. It was too public a place for me to discuss the subject nearest to my heart, so I confined myself to speaking with obtuseness. “I had imagined it would be good deal more trying than it was.”

  “Perhaps you anticipated it too long? I’ve found that once I make up my mind on a subject, it’s best dealt with immediately.”

  “That is certainly wise, although sometimes there are situations where one has to consider the feelings of others.”

  “I would have thought those were apparent.” His gaze dropped to my lips, and my entire body tightened.

  “Sometimes innocent acts can be misinterpreted,” I said somewhat breathlessly. “I feel it’s best to ascertain the true state of the situation before acting.”

  He took a step closer to me, his voice dropping to an intimate level. “I can assure you that any action I take is most heartfelt.”

  I found myself leaning toward him until my uncle turned to speak with someone who just arrived at the box. Griffin took a step back, and I changed the subject to one that was less charged. “How is Helena?”

  He lowered his voice. “Fine, now. I gather from what she said that you warned her against this Greene female. I apologize for my hasty conclusion earlier. Helena informed me that you were against the protest from the beginning.”

  I accepted his apology, basking in the warm glow of admiration in his eyes as I asked after his brother. Griffin scratched at his collar as he answered. “Sherry’s all right. Nothing more than a cut to the forehead, although he isn’t aware of who threw the stone.”

  He looked at me meaningfully.

  “And I’m sure he never shall be.”

  “Yes. Well.” An awkward silence fell. Griffin waved in the general direction of my torso. “That’s attractive.”

  “Thank you,” I said, amused by the bluntness of the compliment. “You look very nice as well.”

  He put a finger in his collar. “It’s damned uncomfortable.”

  “Is it? Perhaps next time you should get a larger collar.”

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked, frowning.

  “Nothing other than that your collar might be too small.”

  “Is that a criticism, or an attempt at humor?” he asked.

  “Neither. It was merely an observation. It really is too bad that you and I cannot converse with ending in an argument. You should make an effort to be less critical.”

  He opened his eyes wide with indignation. “I am the most tolerant of men. You insist on arguing every point.”

  Receiving a warning glance from my aunt at Griffin’s loud protestation, I quickly changed the topic. “Will you go away soon?”

  A fleeting look crossed his face, one that so resembled pain that my heart constricted at the sight of it.

  “That is,” I corrected myself, ignoring the pounding of blood in my ears, “will you be going abroad soon? I asked you earlier but did not hear plans of your further travels.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet. There are certain obligations I have recently undertaken.” His eyes were molten with sudden heat.

  My knees wobbled. “I imagine you would be anxious to be on your way—after you attend to your obligations, of course.”

  “Do you really believe they will be over so quickly?”

  I realized with some surprise he was teasing me. “Well, I know how men are,” I said, making a vague gesture.

  “I don’t think you do,” he said dryly.

  I glanced at my aunt. She was still in conversation. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a trip abroad myself. Where would you recommend I visit?”

  He grinned. “Really, Miss Whitney, you surprise me. Can it be you are willing to abandon the cause that means so much to you? Have you lost such faith in the suffrage movement already that you are considering leaving it?”

  It was impossible to be angry with him when he look so roguish.

  “On the contrary,” I bantered in faux seriousness. “I plan to take the word of women’s emancipation abroad, and spread it as I travel. Your own excellent commentary on foreign cultures has made it clear that enlightenment with regards to women’s rights is needed in most lands, and as an Englishwoman, it is, according to your definition, my duty to meddle where I may.”

  He laughed at that, and said with mock gravity, “I would be happy to consult with you as to the best itinerary for your plans. I can think of several places I would like to see meddling Englishwomen visit.”

  His eyes held mine as he as he spoke, the intent in them causing a blush to creep up from my exposed bosom. He brushed my fingers lightly with his lips. The touch was electrifying, and set my heart racing yet again. What it did to my intimate parts was unmentionable.

  The third act began, and with much regret I tucked away the lurid seduction scenes playing in my head, and turned my attention to the stage, avoiding the box to my left. During the fourth act I was indulging in a pleasant daydream of just exactly how Griffin would respond to my seduction with a ravishment of his own, when a sudden shout from below broke my reverie. I peered over the edge of the box and gasped with horror at the sight.

  Six suffragettes with Votes For Women sashes draped over their fronts marched down the two side aisles, shouting slogans and hurling vegetables at the stage. The audience sat shocked for a moment, then a handful of men ran forward and grappled with the women in an attempt to remove them. Ushers raced down the aisle to assist as two protesters gained the stage and began shouting at the audience. Speechless with horror, I turned to my aunt. She watched the proceedings with some interest, pausing now and again to glance questioningly at me.

  “I’m sure we have you to thank for this travesty,” Lord Sherringham’s loud voice echoed off the balconies. I turned, surprised at his comment. He stood at the front of his box and leaned forward to address my uncle. “If my niece exhibited such dangerous tendencies, Benson, I would take a horse whip to her. She does you much discredit.”

  I was frozen with horror at his words, unable to move or protest, a statue on display for all to see and judge. The thought of what Griffin must think made me sick.

  “My niece would not have anything to do with a party that takes action in such a disruptive manner,” Uncle Henry said mildly. “I have implicit faith in her good judgment and sensibility.”

  “As for you, miss,” Lord Sherringham continued, his eyes narrowing on me, “I shall take steps to ensure you and your foul organization do no further damage.”

  “I know nothing about this,” I said in a small voice to his retreating figure. My eyes sought those of Griffin, but when I found them, but they gave me no pleasure. It was quite clear from his scornful look that he, too, evidently believed I had a part in the spectacle below.

  The shock was wearing off of the audience as the suffragettes were forcibly removed. Voices rose expressing their astonishment, amusement, and disapproval. Wishing I knew how to swoon properly, I turned to my aunt. “You know I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Of course I do, my dear. I fear, however, that you will have a difficult time persuading other people of your innocence.”

  “I have a horrible headache,” I said truthfully. “Would you mind if I left now?”

  “Not at all. Let me tell Henry we’re going.”

  “It’s not necessary for you to leave early. I’d feel terrible if you had to miss the rest of the opera.”

  It took some persuading, but at last I secured my early release. I slipped out of the box, my cheeks hot with embarrassment as I ran down the stairs. There were a few people about, mostly ushers who were clu
stered together in excited groups, but the atmosphere was close and stifling, I couldn’t bear it. I gathered up my coat and bolted for the exit.

  Outside the night air was cool and soft, washing over my heated cheeks like cold water. Brushing away a few rogue tears, I glanced up and down the line for my uncle’s carriage. Unable to find it, and desperate to get away from the site of my humiliation, I decided to walk the distance to my sister’s house. Clutching my coat against the chill night, I set out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I love Covent Garden in the evening, after the night has settled and the tradesmen have rolled away their carts. Although wary after my experiences with the purse thief and the men in Hyde Park, embarrassment over the debacle at the opera house made walking through the empty streets seem like a frolic in comparison.

  My spirits sank as I strode along, miserably contemplating the evidence. “The sad truth is that you’ve gone and fallen in love with him, and now you’re paying the price of such folly.”

  My voice echoed off the closed shops, making an eerie counterpoint to the sound of my shoes on the cobblestones. I stopped. Frowning with concentration, I held my breath and listened. From somewhere came the unmistakable sounds of pursuit: strong footsteps moving quickly. A vision of the man with the bowler and gold tooth rose before my eyes, followed by a sharp bite of fear. I slipped into a dark doorway and peered out into the blackness.

  “I’m being silly,” I whispered to myself with far more bravado than I felt as the footsteps grew louder. “It could be anyone. And even if it is Mr. Jones, I have no reason to fear him.”

  The footsteps paused for a moment, giving me hope that whoever it was had nothing to do with me. But a minute later a figured loomed up in a pool of light from a distant lamppost, passing quickly and silently into the darkness.

  Stepping out of my doorway when the man was almost upon me, I said amiably, “Out for an evening stroll, Mr. St. John?”

  He let out a startled exclamation of surprise, and grasped my arm with a ferocity that surprised me. “You damned fool woman! Don’t you have any better sense than to leap out at a man unexpectedly?”

  “I thought it better to see who you were, first.” He looked so indignant, I couldn’t help but smile, which, of course, is the wrong way to greet a freshly startled man.

  “What the hell what are you doing out here by yourself? It’s not safe for a female to march through the city after dark by herself. I thought you had learned that lesson.”

  I raised my chin and sent him a quelling glare down my nose. Lover or no lover, I refuse to be browbeaten. “We’ve had this conversation before. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”

  I turned and tried to leave, but he still had a hold of my arm. Spinning me around to face him, he said, “I’ve no doubt about that; it was the unwary marauders I was worried about.”

  I made an unladylike face at him and tried to free my arm.

  “Did you have anything to do with that display back there?” he asked quietly, his eyes dark with suspicion.

  “Certainly not!” I raised my chin another notch, then realized how ridiculous I must look and lowered it again. “I knew nothing about it, Griffin. I was as appalled as everyone else.”

  I pulled my arm again. Instead of letting go, he took my other arm in his free hand. Peering intently into my eyes, he leaned forward and kissed me. His lips were gentle on mine at first, caressing, persuasive, yet demanding. I breathed in his scent, waves of excitement buzzing down my body. My vision blurred as I looked into those deep, endless pools of amber, eyes that glowed from within as he touched the back of my neck lightly, caressing, stroking my skin. It electrified me; I felt his touch all the way down to my toes. He nipped my lip until I gave him what he wanted, allowing him to sink into my mouth, his groan of pleasure matching my own. My fingers curled through hair soft as silk, tugging him closer when my body clamored to feel him. He pulled me tighter, one hand on my behind, the other tangled in my hair as he thoroughly, leisurely, wantonly explored my mouth.

  Just when I thought I would swoon with the delight of it all, he ended the kiss, his mouth shifting to caress my neck, my hair, and my ears.

  “Why, oh why, didn’t I think of taking a lover before?” I murmured to myself.

  He laughed, breaking the mood of the moment. I pulled away, desperately trying to catch my breath.

  “I believe, madam, that we have an appointment?”

  His raised eyebrow sent little shivers of delight down my back as I understood what he was asking. “Yes, we certainly do.”

  He held out his arm. I took it, and we walked in silence to the nearest cab.

  I waited until the cab had set off for my house before turning to him. To my surprise, he held me off. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly flushed with shame. I’d thrown myself at him and he was repulsed! “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Yes, you should, but not here in the cab. It’s going to be difficult enough to walk without you making it worse.”

  “Are you injured in some way?” I asked, concerned.

  “I hurt, if that’s what you mean. Cassandra…” His words trailed off.

  Now I really was concerned. “If you are in pain, I can summon a doctor.”

  “I can just imagine what he’d say. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “No, but if you’ve had another accident—”

  “I suspected that was the case.” He took my hand and placed it on his lap, pressing my fingers into his groin.

  I froze for a moment. “Oh. I see.”

  “You don’t, but you will. It’s painful for a man to be so aroused, and if you were to kiss me like you obviously wish to, you might push me over the edge.”

  I felt strangely proud of myself, enough so that I took to the liberty to explore the apparently vast lengths his arousal rose to. So to speak.

  “And that will definitely do the job if kissing you didn’t,” he said in a tight voice, prying my hand off his groin.

  “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  “I pray fervently that you will, but not in a cab. Have you considered the ramifications of what this will mean to your home?”

  “The servants, you mean?” I smiled and held up my bag. “I told Mullin that I would let myself in. My maid will be discreet, of that you have no fear.”

  “I have no fear of servants, but I don’t want you to be made to feel uncomfortable.”

  “Leave that to me,” I said with confidence.

  The ride home seemed interminable since I couldn’t spend it kissing Griffin, but at long last I closed the door to the library, and sighed in relief. Then I hiccupped.

  “Are you all right?” Griffin asked, eyeing me carefully.

  “Yes, perfectly. I always have the hiccups when I laugh too hard.”

  “You have picked a strange time to be laughing,” he murmured, his head bent so he could feather a kiss to my bare collarbone.

  “I can’t help it,” I breathed, arching my back so my breasts were pressed against him. “The shocked expression on Mullin’s face when you followed me in here made me laugh, and when I do that, I get the hiccups.”

  He pressed me against the library wall, his eyes steaming with desire, his hands stroking down my bare arms to my waist. “You dragged me in here, madam. That is what he was staring at.”

  I smiled and brushed his lips with mine, feeling terribly wanton, but knowing that this was right. I was meant to be with Griffin, meant to do all of the things I wanted to do with him. “I wish I could yell at him for waiting up for me, but he looked so concerned. Until he saw you, that is.”

  “We could go elsewhere,” he murmured, his mouth closing on mine. The wood was cool against my back, but Griffin was fire against my front. I slipped my hands up his waistcoat and over his shoulders, pushing his evening jacket off.

  “No. It’ll be all right. We’ll stay here.”

  His tongue was
bossy, pushing mine around until I suckled it, then he moaned into my mouth. My fingers danced down the line of buttons on his waistcoat, pushing it off after his jacket.

  His hands slid around to my front, and finally closed around breasts that had been screaming for his attention. I leaned into his palms, leaned into all of him, reveling in the hardness of his body as he plundered my mouth again.

  I plundered back.

  “No corset?” he asked when we came up for breath, the wicked glint in his beautiful eyes lighting all sorts of fires around various parts of my body. I pulled his tie off as he nibbled at a sweet spot just behind my ear.

  “Too confining,” I murmured, tugging on his hair until I could suck his lower lip into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around him, releasing button after button on the back of his shirt.

  “I like women who don’t wear corsets,” he groaned as I spread my fingers wide on the smooth bare skin of his back.

  With a move that was so quick it was over before I was aware it began, he whisked my sapphire gown over my head and tossed it in the direction of a chair. There wasn’t much more of me to be exposed in my underfrillies, but it felt scandalously naughty to stand there in front of him in nothing but my chemise and combinations.

  I reveled in every moment of it.

  “I like a man who likes a woman who doesn’t wear a corset.” I kissed him with every ounce of desire I possessed, my fingers tugging and twisting until I had his cufflinks off.

  His hands fumbled on the hooks that ran down the back of my chemise, pausing just long enough to shed his shirt. I stared hungrily at his chest, his magnificent chest, his wonderful, fabulous, breathtakingly beautiful chest, a veritable wonderland of muscle and sinews and dark, curly hair that suddenly made my legs go boneless.

  “Chest,” I squeaked, spreading my fingers across it, tracing all the contours that swooped and bulged in amazingly wonderful curves.

  “Yes, it is,” he answered, having unhooked enough of my chemise that he could tug it down over my hips, until it fell with a soft whisper of silk and lace at my feet. “And it’s the most beautiful chest I’ve ever seen.”