by D. L. Carter
Shoffer took it and held it rather than kissing or shaking it. “Millicent Boarder? Why does that sound familiar?”
“How soon I am forgotten,” sighed Millicent, gazing up at the ceiling. “I am the eldest Boarder daughter. You remember, I, that is, Mr. North, told you about the sister who died of a fever last winter?”
“And yet, here you are before me,” Shoffer glanced down at her barely covered breasts again, “in the all too living flesh.”
“You were not complaining earlier,” shot back Millicent.
“Granted, but earlier I thought I was embracing a woman.”
“You were,” said Millicent, “you are, or do you doubt the evidence of your own eyes … and lips?”
The corner of Shoffer’s lip curled up. “Perhaps I should taste again, to be certain.”
Millicent raised her hand and Shoffer leaned back out of range, laughing.
“Oh, very well, but you must understand my confusion. Only a moment since I was engaged in…” He smirked at the blush rising again in Millicent’s face, “you always did blush easily, Mr. North. As I was saying, I was pleasuring a young woman, but now I find my arms about a woman with the face of my old friend Mister North. How does this come about?”
Millicent started to answer, then paused. “I hope you understand that I put more than my own self in your hands by telling you.”
“You know you can tell me anything. Well, apparently not, but tell me now. How comes this about?”
“I suppose, under the circumstances, you are entitled.” Millicent sighed and her expression became far-away. “Four years ago my father died, leaving me, my mother, and my two sisters alone in the world. What little income we lived on died with him, an annuity from his grandfather and what money he earned as a tutor. Felicity appealed to all of whom she could think, relatives, friends, and the only person who offered us shelter was Mr. Anthony North, our distant cousin. We considered ourselves fortunate right up until the moment we entered his house and discovered he intended that we should become his servants, unpaid, since it was not necessary to pay relatives, only offer them food and shelter. Having spent our last penny to get to his house, we were rather at a loss for options, so we stayed.”
“So there was an Anthony North!”
“Oh, of a certainty – a truly horrible person. Everything I purport him to be, he was, quite sincerely. The most discontented, greedy, pinchpenny, misogynistic miser one would hope to avoid. Last winter, when a purulent fever swept through the village, he died. Instead of telling the truth and making ourselves helpless and homeless, again, we put about the story that I … that Millicent Boarder had died. He was buried under my name and I assumed his. We spent a few months in the workhouse once, dreadful place, and I would do anything to protect my mother and sisters from going back. What were we to do? Anthony’s only living relative was Perceval, and from what Anthony told me, Perceval was more of a miser than he was himself. When we had first appealed for aid, Perceval had not even franked the reply he sent refusing us! It cost us sixpence to be rejected and insulted. You can understand, I hope, why we felt there was no other choice than for me to assume Anthony’s identity. It was not as if Perceval did not already have enough money himself.”
Shoffer gave a half nod, too caught up in the tale at first to react to her words, but when the import of them sank in, he shook himself and stared at her.
“North, sorry, Millicent, you do realize what you have done is a crime?”
“Of course, I do, what sort of fool do you think I am? I could hang for this. And when you came and told me I was accused of … of … well, what a horrible condition to be in. You come and tell me I am accused of a crime where the only way I can prove myself innocent of it is to reveal that I am guilty of another capital crime.” Millicent dragged both hands through her hair and groaned. “You are lucky I was too surprised that night to act; otherwise, I would have strangled you.”
“Another capital crime,” murmured Shoffer with a grin.
“This is not funny,” cried Millicent.
“No, I grant you it is not and you have put me in the most untenable position. When the truth comes out no one will believe me to have been in such close quarters with you and unaware of your deceit. I shall, both Beth and I, be ostracized.”
Millicent sniffed and stiffened her spine. “Oh, I do apologize. Forgive me, do, I beg you. While I am hung by the neck until dead and my mother and sisters deported to Botany Bay, I shall most certainly grieve for the six parties and two soirées a season for which high sticklers will not send you invitations.”
It was Shoffer’s turn to groan and clutch at his hair. “I do not mean to deny the danger you are in, but you should have considered the whole before…”
“The whole? My dear duke, do not be more of a fool than me! On one hand, I ran the risk of death from starvation, abuse, and degradation. On the other hand, I could protect and provide for my family. Can you swear to me, sir, that if our positions were reversed, you would not have done the same? But wait, you have no knowledge of deprivation. In your whole life you have never missed a meal, except by your own choice, or gone cold and hungry to a flea ridden bed you must share with half a dozen unwashed strangers.”
“Enough, I beg you. I am not completely unfeeling, but it would be best for all concerned that the deception end!”
“Oh, do not worry. My excursion tonight was my last appearance in London society. Mr. North leaves soon on a protracted tour of his estates. My sisters will put about the story of some ‘disaster’ I must attend to, and I shall not return.”
“You misunderstand me. You must give up this deception entirely. Mr. North must be permitted to die in truth.”
Millicent gasped and stared at him open-mouthed. “You cannot be serious. What shall we do? When Mr. North is declared dead, all shall go to Perceval. We will be destitute, again!”
“As it should have been last year. Oh, do not look so distressed. You have had your year and granted Maude and Mildred a coming out and their dowries. Be content.”
“Content? You arrogant ass. What would you do if anyone were to suggest you give up even a small part of your property? Is it because I am a woman that you dare suggest such a thing? I should call you out, except that Lady Beth is a better shot than me. Perhaps I should ask her to act in my stead.”
“She is angry enough at this moment to do it,” Shoffer stared at the woman in his bed. Why was it he was so calm? Surely, there should be some other emotion he should be experiencing. He should be shocked. Horrified. Offended. A woman in men’s clothing? Disgusting. A woman presuming to present herself to the ton as a man of property? Never! He should be angry, except, he was not. Instead his lips curved until he found himself grinning broadly. “Oh, my dear Mr. North, of all your jests, I find this one quite takes my breath away.”
Millicent glared at him for a moment before snorting out a laugh. “My dear duke, I should be enraged at your presumption, but I find I cannot stay angry with you.” She watched him thoughtfully, then continued in a softer tone. “I suppose I have been in love with you too long to wish to spoil this moment.”
“You love me?” Shoffer was off the bed in an instant, his expression so horrified that Millicent could only laugh.
“Oh, my dear duke, do not fear. It is not Mr. North, a man who says this, but Millicent, a woman.”
Shoffer’s gaze drifted down to her bosom. This time Millicent did not move to cover them. Instead she watched and waited until he returned to sit on the edge of the bed.
“You love me?” Shoffer was genuinely astonished by the news. “For how long?”
“I think since the first moment I saw you.” A corner of her mouth curved up. “You did appear to good effect with your buckskins molded to your thighs by the rain. No detail was concealed.”
“Oh?” A faint blush stained his face.
“I thought you were a statue come to life,” Millicent continued. “A Greek athlete or Roman god. Beautifu
l beyond my understanding.”
“You do not want to know what I thought of you.”
“You called me a fool for the first time.” Millicent shrugged. “It has occurred to me that I owe you an apology. It could be that something I have done, or some look I have given you contributed to the beginning of these dreadful rumors. I thought I controlled my features, but I admit there have been times when I have been thinking ‘I love you,’ and looking in your direction while witnesses were about.”
“No, Nor … Millicent, I am certain that is not the cause. Attelweir and his clowder could have chosen any number of rumors to put about, but the most damaging rumor is the one they chose. The one that cannot be disproved by any means.”
“Certainly I cannot challenge it without risking the gallows.”
Shoffer leaned forward close enough to inhale the subtle scent she chose, resting the palm of his hand on the headrest above her.
“You say you love me.”
“Yes, for months now.”
“What an odd thought. I have been fond of you as Mr. North, but I hope you understand I cannot be expected to transfer that affection to Millicent.”
“Indeed, I do not expect it. Nor do I think you should get into the habit of referring to me as Millicent. Millicent is dead.”
“We shall have to consider what name to refer to you by, once Mr. North is dead,” said Shoffer, ignoring Millicent’s frown.
“You presume a great deal.”
“Milli … my dear, you do not have to fear a penniless life without the deception of Mr. North. I will take care of you.”
Millicent stiffened. “Will you now?”
Shoffer tried for a reassuring smile and took her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the palm. “I came out tonight with the intention of setting up a mistress. Your beauty caught my eye and you cannot say that the idea of making love with me displeased you. Up until the moment the wig betrayed you, you were … enthusiastic. I find I like the idea of a liaison with someone I like, and who loves me.”
“Well, how very nice for you.” There was a warning note in Millicent’s voice that set Shoffer laughing.
“Be reasonable. You cannot continue this deception indefinitely. Let Anthony North die. You have made arrangements for the settlement of Mildred and Maude. I shall deal with Perceval as you have requested, and it will be no inconvenience for me to find some place on my estates for Felicity to settle. Please, permit me to provide for you. I think we shall do well together.”
“As mistress and protector?” Millicent’s voice was now cold as ice. She reclined against the headboard permitting the bedsheets to drift down fully exposing her breasts. “By your reasoning there is nothing left but to set my price. I warn you it will be high as I have a good opinion of myself.”
The mercenary words chilled Shoffer more than the tone.
“I believe I can meet your price.”
“Can you? I want twenty thousand pounds a year.”
“North!”
“No, do not nay say me. You want to remove my income, very well, you must replace it, or else tell me, by what right do you declare that I am unworthy of these funds? Christopher North divided his property in half between his two sons. By that measure Perceval has no complaint, having twenty thousand per annum of his own. If anyone was to attempt to deprive you of what you hold, you would run him through. Why should I be more complacent?”
“It is not yours by right! You stole it from a dead man! Besides, how can you continue going on as you have? Someone is sure to discover your secret.”
“Really? Did you? Has anyone? The rumor going about is not that Mr. North is a Miss, but that he is a bugger. An exclusively masculine crime, if I remember correctly. I had everyone, including you, completely fooled.”
“But it cannot go on! Sooner or later some event or other will result in your being revealed. Retreat now before you end up facing the scaffold.”
“Bah! I do not believe you are motivated entirely out of fear for my life.”
“I admit, I should like to make love to you. That is the reason we are here.”
Millicent pulled up the sheet, unable to meet his eye. There was a gleam to them, and a seductive curve to his mouth, which sent a blush climbing her cheeks.
Shoffer laughed to see it.
“How could I not suspect? You blushed so easily.”
“I have seen men blush.”
“But not as prettily as you.”
Millicent grunted and tried to turn her back on him. Shoffer climbed further onto the bed and pulled her into his arms.
“Oh, come, let us not quarrel. We did not come here tonight to fight, but to make love.”
“We need not,” muttered Millicent, her lips so close to his chest he could feel the warmth of her words. “I might disappoint you, masculine person that I am.”
“Never.”
“I do not understand your confidence.”
Shoffer permitted her to push away far enough that he might see her face. “Dear Millicent, I am certain we shall do very well together. I do not doubt that you will approach the act of love with the same enthusiasm with which you approach all aspects of life. Do you not dance with joy? This is another form of dance.” He smiled at her. “And, you love me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Millicent did not comment, but she did not miss that, yet again, Shoffer had said that she loved him, but did not state his love for her. It was only to be expected. Why should he? Millicent Boarder was a stranger to him. Anthony North was a mere friend. Brotherly affection was not kindred to passionate love. She should not and did not expect that he would love her simply because she loved him.
However, at this moment, his body was warm and hard under her fingers. She rested her forehead on his shoulder relishing the firm support. Those few moments she had spent under his fingers burned in her mind. Honesty being the best policy, she admitted to herself that she ached to resume the interrupted act.
Enthusiastic was a good description of her attitude.
“Just for this one night only, Shoffer. Tomorrow, I return to being Mr. North, and if you cut me from your acquaintance, I shall endure it. But I shall not give up being my family’s only source of income. I will not!”
“Tomorrow,” murmured Shoffer against her cheek. “Tonight you are a woman and you are mine!”
He drew a long tin out of the table drawer and opened it to reveal several tan tubes decorated at one end with a ring of ribbon. Millicent rose up on one elbow to watch him.
“Whatever are they?” she demanded.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Shoffer blushed deeply.
“Avoiding pregnancy is your only concern, my dear. These will take care of that matter.”
“How?”
Shoffer could not meet her eyes.
“Really, if you wish to continue here you should not question me about this.”
“How else am I to learn?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. They are from France. Do not ask what they are made of, for I do not know. They enclose me and prevent pregnancy. There, are you content?”
“Excellent,” she lay back. “You shall tell me where they are purchased and I shall tell my family.”
“You cannot discuss this with the women of your household! North, you cannot be so lost to sensibility.”
“I am a lady and may speak to the ladies of my household as I choose!” She smiled. “Or have you forgotten already?”
Shoffer only shook his head.
“I am confused.”
“Well, if I am too confusing,” said Millicent, levering herself up as if to get out of the bed, “perhaps I should leave.”
Shoffer’s arm, iron hard and as immovable, pushed her back down. He huffed a breath into the tube then stripped off his clothing. His member sprang free of his trousers eager, and was soon enclosed by the strange tube. Shoffer fastened the ribbons in a neat bow and stood naked and proud before her.
“Blue, to m
atch your eyes,” observed Millicent.
“Next time,” said Shoffer, climbing onto the bed and bracing himself upon his forearms above her, “gold to match your eyes.” He kissed her, lowering himself to press her into the mattress. “Then pink for your blushes. White for your skin. Red for my passion.”
Shoffer ran his hands over the curve of her shoulders, outlining the smooth line of her breasts and down to the swell of her hips. It was, he knew, a woman’s body under his – soft, warm, welcoming.
He knew it and yet it was necessary for him to continue examining that body with his lips, his hands, his tongue to confirm it. He closed his eyes the better to concentrate on the scent of her, the brush of fingertips over her swelling breasts and, heaven be praised, the sensation of her hands traveling over his shoulders. Her lips pressed to his skin. Her touch at first was tentative, but grew bolder with his murmured encouragements. She passed her hands down his spine, seizing and squeezing his buttocks at his command. His erection, already painfully hard, swelled and rose only to become captive of her hand and increase further.
“God, woman, what you do to me,” he gasped and she laughed.
“What is this?” her eyes were dancing. “What shall I do with it?”
“Receive it,” he rose over her, parting her thighs and settling himself between them.
Now he could meet her eyes without doubting this was indeed a woman, soft and willing, her heat open to him. He hesitated at the entrance, unwilling to cause pain, but she rose to meet his thrust unafraid. He tensed as he entered her velvet heat, pleasure so close to pain. She froze beneath him, but did not resist his withdrawal or his return. The muscles of his back and shoulders corded under the strain of control. He would not ravage, pillage. Her ease, her pleasure were his obligation and joy. He sank slowly into her, giving her time to stretch and receive him. Once he was in to the hilt, he waited until her tight clenched eyes opened again and she smiled her welcome of his possession. Now she was ready for him, slick and hot, he withdrew until a bare inch was still within. He settled into the ancient rhythm, welcoming her sighs and whimpers as his reward. Need claimed them both, drawing them onward. Her movements beneath him became demanding as her body sought, then claimed, the pleasure that was love’s reward. As her body clenched around him, he followed her into joy.