My Lady's Pleasure

by Olivia Quincy

  “It’s a rum kind of lovemaking if it includes the O’Maras,” said Gerry, drawing her attention to the fact that the conversation clearly included them.

  Mrs. Sheffield was saved from having to answer by the entrance of Georgiana herself, who had appeared in the doorway and was clearly trying to decide which group to join. She had been there long enough to see what Mrs. Sheffield had seen and Mr. Sheffield hadn’t—that Bruce Barnes was indeed, after his fashion, making love to Alexandra Niven. The sight had given rise to a very unpleasant constriction in her gut. She had spent the better part of the afternoon thinking about Barnes, and had by no means decided what she wanted to do about him. But the idea of him with another woman hadn’t entered her thoughts. Being confronted with that idea, in the flesh, made her realize the depth of the impression the man had made on her.

  But it also gave her pause. When she’d stood with him in the peacock pavilion, she’d felt as though he had singled her out, that he thought the two of them had a special connection. Seeing what looked like an attempt to single out another young woman—and in the same day!—made Georgiana think this was simply how he treated young women, and it made her think less of him.

  Her first instinct was to take refuge at the Sheffields’ table, but she quelled it and walked resolutely to the other side of the room.

  She put on a confident smile and made her voice sprightly. “May I join you?” she asked the foursome.

  “Oh, please do,” said Alexandra Niven, with a touching ingenuousness. “You are Lady Georgiana Vernon, are you not?”

  “I am,” said Georgiana, slightly taken aback by the enthusiasm of a girl she had already started to think of as a rival.

  “Lady Loughlin told me I should meet you here, and I have so looked forward to it,” said the girl. “My name is Alexandra Niven.”

  Lady Georgiana recovered herself. “Lady Loughlin has also talked to me of you,” she said, “and I, too, am glad that we should know each other.”

  Georgiana nodded her greeting to the O’Maras and, as casually as she could, to Barnes, and sat down next to Miss Niven. No one at the table was aware that their little drama was being minutely observed by the people across the room, who had ceased their own conversation to better hear what the two girls would say to each other, and to Barnes.

  They were at first disappointed.

  “Do you play tennis, Lady Georgiana?” asked the dark-haired beauty.

  “I do, and I imagine you do as well, since Lady Loughlin always takes pains to make sure I have a worthy opponent.”

  “I do play, but I’m not sure how worthy an opponent I’ll be. I have heard, though, that there is a wonderful new court on the grounds.” Miss Niven turned to the gardener. “Mr. Barnes has agreed to show it to me, and give me a tour of what he has done, have you not, Mr. Barnes?”

  Across the room, Mrs. Sheffield’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave her husband a knowing look. Gerry laughed softly. “By Jove, it’s as good as a play!”

  Barnes looked steadily at Miss Niven, and then at Lady Georgiana. He neither blushed nor blinked. “I have, and if the weather is fine we can go directly after breakfast,” he said.

  “Make sure you see the peacock pavilion,” Lady Georgiana said pointedly. “It’s certainly one of the highlights.”

  From there, the conversation at both tables turned general, and Barnes and the young ladies spoke of the house, the grounds, and the masquerade. Before they went up to bed, the two girls made an appointment to play tennis the following afternoon.

  Only Henry Sheffield and Alphonse Gerard were left downstairs when Robert Loughlin, who’d been dining in the adjoining parlor, came in and sat down with them.

  “Hello, gentlemen,” he said, “I see you’ve divested yourself of all the ladies.”

  “That we have,” said Gerard, “but I wouldn’t be quick to divest myself of either Lady Georgiana or Miss Niven, were I ever so fortunate as to invest myself of them in the first place.”

  Mr. Sheffield was willing to overlook the omission of his wife from the list of women not to be divested of. “They are fine girls, certainly.”

  “That gardener of yours seems to have a magical hold on pretty young girls,” said Gerry, never one to beat about the bush. “What’s his secret?”

  Lord Loughlin laughed. He’d noticed the way the women in his household responded to Barnes. “Damned if I know,” he told his friend. “It must be some primal attraction to men who work the land. You know, a kind of salt-of-the-earth mystique.”

  He turned and pulled the cord that rang for the servants. It was barely a minute before the parlor maid, a slightly coarse-looking girl some years past thirty, came in and curtsied.

  “Will you ask Dodson to bring us some port, please, Rose,” said Loughlin. “There’s a ’seventy-seven in the cellar that I opened just the other night.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Rose, and left to find the butler.

  “Salt of the earth, fiddlesticks,” said Gerry with disgust, picking up the conversation where they had left it. “It’s raw animal magnetism. He’s big and he’s strong and he’s handsome, and they can’t get enough of it. They’re like bitches in heat. I was hoping to have a go at one of those girls myself, but I’ll be lucky if either one of them gives me the time of day.”

  “Well, you may not be big or strong or handsome,” said Lord Loughlin, laughing, “nor are you young. But you are awfully rich.”

  “That won’t take me very far with girls who are rich themselves,” scoffed Gerard.

  “Georgiana is, certainly, but Miss Niven, I’m told, is sorely in want of a fortune.”

  “But I thought Bellingford was as rich as Croesus. Surely he’ll provide for her.”

  Lord Loughlin lowered his voice. “I’m told he suffered very heavy losses speculating in American railroads.”

  “He did, at that,” said Mr. Sheffield, joining the conversation now that it had left the mysterious subject of women and moved to the firmer footing of finance. “I almost bought some of the same shares myself, but there was something about the offering that didn’t seem quite right.”

  “Has he gone to smash then?” asked Gerry.

  “Not entirely, I understand,” said Sheffield. “He had a great deal to begin with, and I believe he has enough left to try to make a go of it without selling the estate. But he won’t have much to settle on his ward. It’s lucky his daughters are grown and married already.”

  As Gerry pondered this new opportunity, the butler came in with the port. After he left, Gerry looked at his host with a more serious expression.

  “Do you think I have a chance, then?” he asked.

  Lord Loughlin looked at his friend. Gerard’s appearance wasn’t prepossessing. His face was a little too round, his hair was a little too sparse, and he was undeniably awkward. But his smile was winning, his good nature was genuine, and he moved with a certain grace. And, of course, he was certainly rich.

  “I think you do,” he finally said.

  “Hmmph,” grunted Gerry. “Damn fine port, this.”

  The three men drank in silence for a few minutes, and then said their good nights.

  On his way up to his room, Alphonse Gerard met Rose, the parlor maid, coming down from upstairs, carrying a tray with the remains of a meal. She nodded to him and moved to pass him, her head down.

  “Rose, is it?” Gerard said to the girl.

  “It is, sir.”

  The evening’s conversation had left him feeling a bit randy, and he thought he might have a go at her. Experience, moreover, had taught him that the most effective method of having a go at a servant was picking one who wasn’t especially pretty and telling her she was. But first he had to break down her reserve a bit.

  “Whoever ate that dinner, give him a wide berth,” he said, in a tone of dire warning, pointing at the tray.

  Rose looked uncomprehendingly at him, and at the tray.

  “You can’t trust anyone who doesn’t finish a dish of strawber
ries and cream,” said Gerry, breaking into a broad grin.

  The girl laughed. It had crossed her mind that something must be wrong with a person who wouldn’t eat such a delicacy. Strawberries and cream were a rare thing in her world.

  “It wasn’t a him, sir; it was a her. Miss Mumford, sir.”

  “Well, I see her loss has been your gain,” said Gerry, pointing to a small dollop of cream on Rose’s left cheek.

  Rose colored. “I couldn’t bear to see all of them go to waste like that.”

  “I’m sure, had they made it all the way to the kitchen, that they wouldn’t exactly have gone to waste,” he said, smiling.

  Seeing that he wasn’t going to take her to task emboldened the girl. “Well, then, why not me as well as them? After all, I was the one as had to fetch them down from Miss Mumford’s room.”

  “Why not, indeed?” Gerry laughed. “The only flaw I can see in your line of reasoning is that you didn’t eat them all.” He picked one of the strawberries out of the cream and held it up to her mouth. “You missed this one, for example.”

  The girl looked at him curiously, and backed away. After a moment, Gerry put the strawberry in his own mouth, and licked his fingers deliberately.

  “By the by, my name’s Gerard,” he said. “Alphonse Gerard. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ve been here three months, sir.”

  “Tell me, Rose, do you have a young man?”

  “A young man, sir?” The girl almost snorted with derision. “No, sir.”

  “What! A fine girl like you with no young man? What’s the world coming to?” Subtlety was not in Gerard’s nature, and he had learned that, anyhow, it generally didn’t answer in situations like this. He took the tray from her, set it on a small side table, and moved in close to the girl.

  Rose kept her distance, but didn’t absolutely make a run for it. Gerard read curiosity and excitement in her face, but they were tempered by something else. Not fear, he thought. Skepticism, maybe. He took one step closer, reached up, and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. Her skin still had the softness and suppleness of youth. He used a fingertip to skim the dab of cream off her cheek, and then licked his finger clean.

  For the first time, she looked him full in the face. Her eyes were brown tinged with green, and Gerard saw the living, breathing being inside the parlor maid’s uniform. And then she said something that surprised him.

  “I noticed you in the drawing room.”

  “You did?” Gerry asked with genuine curiosity.

  “I did. I was glad to see that Mrs. Sheffield taken down a peg. She was poking her nose in where it don’t belong.”

  Gerard laughed heartily. “She most certainly was.”

  “If Mr. Barnes and Lady Georgiana want to hide out in the peacock pavilion, it ain’t no business of hers. They’re grown people, and can do as they like.”

  “And were they hiding out in the peacock pavilion?” Gerard asked cautiously. He wanted badly to know what had happened, but he didn’t want to be seen sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong and categorized with Mrs. Sheffield.

  “Well, I can’t say as they were hiding out, but they went there together, alone, and stayed for some time. Everyone in the servants’ quarters knows about it, thanks to Little Eddie.”

  “And who, may I ask, is Little Eddie?”

  “Oh, he’s the groom’s son. He does odd jobs around the grounds, and he seems to know everything about everyone. If you want to have a secret around here, you’d better stay out of the way of Little Eddie.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Gerard. “Would Little Eddie be anywhere in the vicinity right now?”

  “Oh, no, sir! He works outside, and almost never comes in the house.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” said Gerard. “Because I think, perhaps, we’re about to have a secret.”

  The conversation had thawed Rose considerably, and when Gerry reached for her hand she gave it, if a little tentatively.

  “Tell me, Rose,” Gerard said with a lowered voice, gesturing down the corridor, “do you know if any of these rooms are unoccupied?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, lowering her own tone to match his, “that one there on the right is for Lord Peter Halsey, and he won’t be coming for three days yet.”

  “Excellent,” said Gerard. “Come with me.”

  Gerard glanced both ways down the hallway, and led Rose by the hand to the empty room. They went in, and he was about to close the door when something occurred to him. “Wait just one second,” he said, and dashed out. He was back before she had time to wonder where he had gone, with the bowl of strawberries in his hand. “We can’t let them go to waste now, can we?” he asked conspiratorially.

  “No, sir.” She grinned at him.

  “You’ll have to stop calling me ‘sir,’ you know.”

  She grinned again. “Yes, sir. I mean, yes, uh . . .”

  “Gerry,” said Gerry.

  “Oh, no, sir, I can’t call you that!”

  “And why ever not?”

  “It’s too . . .” She thought a moment. “It’s too personal.”

  “Too personal?” asked Gerry, with mock incredulity. “And is this too personal as well?” he asked as he cupped one of her ample breasts with his hand. He hefted it, as though judging its weight, and began to fondle it in a way that was almost kneading.

  The feel of her breast in his hand fueled his increasing arousal, and it took him some moments to realize she seemed somewhat bemused. He took a breath and a half step back.

  “You’re a damn fine girl, you know,” he said. He didn’t really believe she was a damn fine girl, but because she seemed to have something to say for herself, he genuinely liked her. If she wasn’t a damn fine girl, she was certainly above middling.

  But Rose was clear-eyed, and she knew the difference between damn fine and above middling.

  “I’m not a damn fine girl. If I was, I’d already be married with a bunch of little ones, and that would probably be a mixed blessing, so I’m not sorry,” she said, the words tumbling out of her. “I’m a grown woman, and a red-faced, thickset fireplug of one at that. But I’m an honest one, and I work hard, and I’m not stupid.”

  Gerard was thoroughly taken aback by this. But Rose wasn’t finished yet.

  “If I’m going to duck into Lord Halsey’s room with you, it won’t be because you feed me strawberries and call me a damn fine girl. It’ll be because I want to, pure and simple.”

  At this, Gerard was completely thrown. Although he didn’t make an absolute habit of it, he had seduced servant girls before, and never had any of them talked to him like this.

  He looked at her with a mixture of astonishment and admiration. “And do you want to, pure and simple?” he finally asked.

  She didn’t answer. Gerard wasn’t sure if she hadn’t decided yet, or if she had but wasn’t ready to let him in on the secret.

  “I hope you do,” he said in a whisper, and kissed her.

  He didn’t kiss her the way he kissed servants. He kissed her the way he kissed lovers, with his lips soft and barely parted. But he didn’t linger; he didn’t feel he had permission quite yet.

  “I do,” said Rose, “on one condition.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That you never call me a damn fine girl again.”

  “Only if you promise not to call me ‘sir,’ at least in private,” he said, grinning.

  “Done,” she said. “Gerry.” She giggled a little at the idea of calling one of the Loughlins’ guests by his given name.

  They were standing just inside the closed door of the room, in a little hall that led to the bedchamber. Gerry put his hands on Rose’s hips and pushed her backward against the wall. He reached his hands around to cup her ass and pull it toward him. By this time he had a full hard-on and he groaned as her hips met his.

  The circumstances were such that Gerry had to be careful not to let his arousal get the
best of him. That this girl had been unknown to him that morning, that he had gone from introducing himself to grinding his pelvis into hers in the space of ten minutes, that her surprising self-assurance attracted him, all created a confluence of novelty that made him feel as if he were nineteen again. And at nineteen, he remembered with some embarrassment that helped check his passion, he hadn’t been completely master of himself.

  He put his hands back on her hips and pushed himself away. He turned her around so she faced the wall and traced the lines of her back. It was a strong, muscular back, and her firmness and solidity appealed to him. Somehow it seemed right that her strength of body matched her strength of mind.

  As he pressed himself against her again, he reached around and took one breast in each of his hands. He started with his hands at their base and caressed them, circling first inward, and then outward, with the thumb and forefinger of each hand coming closer to her nipple each time. When he reached the nipples, and touched them lightly, Rose responded by groaning and moving her hips backward to meet him. Her hands were on the wall and she bent at the waist, moving her ass side to side against him. He let her breasts go and reached for the buttons on the back of her uniform. He hadn’t undone more than half of them before the girl turned around and shimmied out of the bodice of the dress.

  Her bodily firmness extended to her lovely round breasts. “No fireplug ever sported a pair like that,” he said.

  Rose looked taken aback, and Gerry was afraid he’d blundered. But it took her only a moment to remember that she had described herself that way not more than a few minutes ago. To his relief, she laughed heartily.

  Gerry leaned down and kissed each in turn, just on the top where they rose enticingly from her chest.

  He had put the strawberries and cream on a small bookshelf that was next to them, and he reached over to dip his finger in the bowl. He held his cream-covered finger out to Rose, and she took it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, and relished the feeling of her tongue on his skin as she licked it clean.