by D. L. Carter
“What entertainment is planned?”
“I told you, there will be music. Mildred has hired a well-regarded small orchestra to play while people converse, but there is no expectation that people will dance. Mostly, they are expected to stand about, eat, and talk.”
Shoffer considered for a moment.
“Might I suggest the soprano Mademoiselle Therese be invited to sing?”
Beth’s eyebrows rose. “Does she not have a … reputation?”
“Indeed, but it is an afternoon event and she will be gone long before dark so husbands will be safe from her. I only suggest it as then I can speak of the gathering in my clubs. The presence of the beautiful Therese will cause a few of the eligible gentlemen to attend. We can pass that gossip along to the marriage minded mothers who might then consider bringing their daughters.”
Beth considered that. “I do not know that Mildred can afford to hire M. Therese.”
“I could visit her and suggest she accept an invitation, instead. I know the lady desires some illusion of acceptance by the ton. She might forgo her salary in exchange for a proper invitation.”
“Oh? Would she do that for you? I had no idea she was your mistress.”
“Beth!” cried Shoffer. “What a thing to say!”
“Bother that. I am old enough to know about such things as mistresses.”
“You are not even old enough, in my opinion, to put up your hair and dance. Have pity for my grey hair.” Shoffer patted his hand on his chest. “You will stop my heart entirely saying such shocking things.”
“Oh, phoo.”
“Besides, she is not under my protection. I only suggest it as a way of creating interest in Mildred’s gathering.”
“I shall consider it.” Beth fiddled with the eggs on her plate for a moment, then continued. “I know. You will invite that handsome tenor so that the ladies will have someone to swoon over and some other stars of the stage, as well. We shall create a sort of afternoon salon. A socially acceptable way for the ladies of the ton to meet actors. Usually we cannot call on them or visit them after performances, as that would be scandalous, but to see them in the afternoon, to praise their acting, that would be entirely proper.”
“I suppose,” said Shoffer, not entirely convinced he wanted his sister in the presence of actors.
“Surely, you and North together could persuade them to come.”
Shoffer cut his beefsteak. Considering the changes in her personality, he could not take the risk Beth might not take it into her mind to go visiting the theaters should he refuse. “Very well.”
“Excellent.” Beth rose to her feet. “Up brother, and away. You have much to accomplish.”
Shoffer grinned back at her, then turned to the nearest footman. “Please send a message for Maricourt Place. Inform Mr. North he must attend me while we go about guaranteeing his cousin’s party’s success!”
By not writing a note, he forced the footman to announce the command. North, he knew, would be forced by his own family to go out with him. There had to be a way for him, in between their errands, to find time alone with Millicent in the same room as a bed.
* * *
Shoffer was arguing with his valet about the complexity of his cravat – wanting something simple he could recreate without assistance if he was lucky enough to disrobe that afternoon – when the message arrived.
An unscented, folded, and sealed corner of parchment with his name scrawled across the front lay on the footman’s salver. Suspecting it was some excuse from North he flipped it open and read the signature. Immediately his body tightened and came to full arousal.
She had signed it “Helene.” Her female name. The female he had enjoyed for one night and who had tormented him and left him sleepless every night since.
Helene.
And if she had signed her name Helene, it was obviously a signal that she wanted him to enjoy that female body, again. Shoffer was entirely in favor of that idea.
Fortunately for his blushes, his valet was distracted and the footman had already turned away. Shoffer pulled free of his valet’s hands and stalked across the room to stand staring out of the window until his body had calmed.
“Your Grace? Is something the matter?”
Shoffer did not turn. “No, Ikelsby. You may go, I shall finish here myself.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the door closed, marking Ikelsby’s departure. Shoffer again opened the note and smiled as he read.
“Your Grace, please meet me at your other house at two. Helene.”
Helene!
Millicent.
Tucking in the ends of his cravat as he ran down the stairs, he called for his horse rather than the carriage. He wanted to be there when she arrived to answer the door himself, just in case she arrived in her disguise as Mr. North. He did not want her loitering on the doorstep an instant longer than necessary. Never before had he ridden at such speed through London’s crowded streets. He was directing his horse around the last corner when he spotted a lady strolling along the pavement. Tall and dignified, her pacing firm and her parasol raised proudly over the feathers in her bonnet, her hips swayed in a manner that caused more than one man to turn his head to watch her walk away. She was attired in a costume that suited her very well, while still being somewhat out of fashion. He recognized that step, that form, that economy instantly and his lips curved as he came alongside, swung down to the ground and faced her.
Ringlets framing her face beneath her bonnet, Millicent smiled up at him as she offered her gloved hand in greeting.
“Your Grace,” she murmured, bobbing a small curtsy.
He bowed over the hand, then turned it over to kiss the inside of her wrist.
“My dear M…”
“Ah, ha?” She waggled a finger at him.
“My dear Helene. I have missed you beyond words.”
“Have you? But I have hardly noticed your absence.”
“Oh, cruel. When you are the sunlight of my day,” he waved at the overcast sky, “it is dismal and grey without you.”
She inclined her head toward him. “How flattering.”
“Minx.”
“Lecher.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they strolled along the last few yards, Shoffer leading his horse. At the house, Shoffer knocked rather than let them in with his own key. The housekeeper’s husband appeared immediately, peering around the door, then squeezed past them to deal with the horse. When the housekeeper arrived, Shoffer reached into his vest pocket and handed Millicent his key.
“Mrs. Fosters, this is Helene Winthrop. She will be visiting me here from time to time.”
Mrs. Fosters was polite, but her eyes remained unimpressed as she bobbed a curtsy. Millicent was not surprised. No doubt Mrs. Fosters saw an ever changing parade of ladies through these doors, and was confident in her employment. She was here before the ladies and would be there long after.
“Do you require anything?” asked Mrs. Fosters. “Tea? Sherry?”
“No, thank you,” said Millicent.
“And your luggage?”
“Thank you, but I shall not be living here. His Grace and I will visit only.”
With the introductions over, Shoffer took her arm and guided her up the stair.
“I was very pleased to receive your note, my dear,” he said. “How did you manage to … escape?”
Millicent laughed as he escorted her to the upstairs bedroom. “Ah, well, for a while I considered changing in a hackney, but you are correct, the floors are filthy and the drivers are not drunk enough to ignore a male passenger entering and a female alighting. Then I considered leaving my home before the servants were up and about, but that would not do. Do you have any idea the hour they get up? Then,” she drew off her bonnet and her curls and tossed the wig and hat onto a nearby table, “I found a house for rent that backs onto the same mews that runs behind this house.”
“So close?” Shoffer seized his cravat and
dragged it free, throwing it across the room. “Excellent. But will your servants not comment?”
“I have not hired any staff. I cleaned one of the rooms myself and set it up as a dressing room.” She loosened the bodice of her pelisse and shrugged out of it. “If I am careful no one shall take note of my comings and goings. I shall enter through the mews as a man and exit the front door a lady.”
She turned to face him and found his arms open wide. Two steps brought her into his arms to receive his kiss. They clung together, swaying and moaning as the kiss deepened and swept them away from such mundane matters as the journey. The only thing that mattered was the destination – each other’s arms.
* * *
As the sweat dried on their bodies, Shoffer pulled Millicent close and ran a soothing hand down her spine. So soft and feminine a body to hide beneath all those layers of masculine attire, he smiled as he repeated the gesture possessively. He was the only man who would know her like this. The only one to have joy of her. To see her soft and replete in the aftermath of pleasure.
“If you stop doing that, I shall hurt you,” said Millicent, her eyes still closed and a gentle smile curving her mouth.
“I shall never stop.”
“Silly man, it would look very odd when we are strolling along Bond Street.”
Shoffer laughed. “Speaking of Bond Street. We should find time to go there, with you dressed as a woman. There is no need for my mistress to go about attired in last year’s fashions. I shall buy you whatever you need.”
Now her eyes snapped open. “What is it about me that compels you to change my dress? First, Mr. North, now Helene? Have you no other occupations?”
“Undressing you has its pleasures, as well.” They both laughed at that. “But it occurs to me that we should be seen about town together. Helene and Timothy taking the air in the park and visiting shops and the theater will help with putting down the rumors and I should enjoy your company.”
“The rumors about you, which are not very strong to begin with, but me,” her gaze traveled down his long, strong legs. “You would not look as well in women’s clothing as I do in men’s, and we would have difficulty explaining the pelt on your décolletage. I cannot see taking the air with Timothea on my arm.”
She tugged at the curls on his chest even as he rolled her onto her back.
“That will never happen,” he growled.
“Not even for me?” she fluttered her eyelashes.
Shoffer laughed and pressed his face to her neck. When he recovered and pulled back, he watched her with a thoughtful gaze. “I have never laughed while making love before.”
“Why are you surprised given present company? Do you like it?”
“I find that I do.” He took hold of her breast and feasted for a while upon her nipples. When he raised his head again his eyes were dark and his expression feral. “Yes, and I believe you do as well.”
* * *
It took two attempts to get them out of the house that afternoon as they both were easily distracted and seduced by the other. By the time they succeeded in getting fully dressed the Bond Street stores were closed and most of the ton were retired to their homes to rest and prepare for the evening’s entertainment. Shoffer rode a few streets away and loitered about waiting for Millicent. She arrived soon enough, mounted on a horse from Shoffer’s own stable, attired in Mr. North’s loose clothing. Shoffer smiled to see her. Millicent regarded his satisfied expression as she approached and replied with a frown.
“You cannot look at me as if I am a sweet cake when I am North. No wonder people talk!”
“You are entirely correct.” Shoffer’s smile vanished in an instant. “That will not do. Of your kindness, remind me if I should do that again.”
“Certainly, and you must stop insisting on accompanying me home. I can find my own way.”
“We are not going directly home. We have errands to run for your cousin, Mildred.”
Millicent tried to raise her eyebrows. “Why would Mildred appeal to you?”
“Actually, Beth told me. She wants us to persuade a few of the more interesting actors and actresses currently fashionable to attend your Mildred’s afternoon tea in the hope that it will encourage the ton to attend.”
“Is that wise?” asked Millicent, after some thought. “Will that not lower the tone of the event?”
“It has become necessary.”
“Oh?”
“Or else we two will have to eat a tea for two hundred without assistance. Did they not tell you, no one has responded to the invitations?”
Millicent’s hands tightened on her reins and the horse protested and bridled.
“They had not told me.”
“Do not be offended. It is possible they hoped that the situation would change before you heard of it and they may have feared you would command them to cancel the arrangements.”
Millicent closed her eyes and groaned. “I am not really a pinch-penny. Why can they not tell me these things?”
“The cry of all males when considering the motivations of their females,” replied Shoffer. “But we can aid them. Before we return home, we shall visit Covent Garden and The Strand theaters, speak to a few of the better-mannered thespians, and see what bribes are necessary to guarantee their sober attendance.”
* * *
Appearing at the stage door with a duke at her side was an educational experience for Millicent. Lacking any interest in setting up a mistress, she had no reason to pursue an acquaintance with the ladies of the theaters. She was, therefore, astonished to see the degree of undress that those ladies considered appropriate for receiving visitors. Once she and Shoffer were ushered through the dim and dusty backstage corridors to a shabby sitting room, voluptuous women dressed in little more than chemises and perfume emerged from the depths of backstage – driven by the mere hint of a rumor that a duke had entered the theater. Millicent was astonished to discover that Mr. North was known here by reputation. A plump, pink lady whose turn included singing “naughty” songs forced her way through the crowd to lay claim to Millicent’s lap and nothing could turn her away. Millicent considered appealing to Shoffer for aid, but after one look at his grinning face, she changed her mind and resigned herself to having her knees crushed and all four of her cheeks pinched.
The singer flung one arm about Millicent’s neck and pressed her face into a pillowy bosom. It would have been tolerable, even amusing, if the lady was in the habit of bathing regularly. As it was, the scent of fermenting flesh, rancid perfume, and greasy makeup turned Millicent’s stomach.
Fortunately, the singer was not on Shoffer’s list of prospective invitees.
Mademoiselle Therese, seated at Shoffer’s right hand, draped in a peignoir of lace and satin, was flattered and teased into consenting to grace the tea with her presence. If she was under the impression that the duke himself was hosting the party, that was her misunderstanding and not his fault. As the duke had hoped, the poor Mademoiselle wanted desperately to receive social acceptance and was willing to forgo performance payment for such a prestigious invitation.
It was obvious she also expected to receive an offer of protection from Shoffer. Millicent closed her eyes rather than watch the two flirt. Jealousy was an unpleasant emotion that she was determined not to indulge. Besides, if a wife could not expect to spend as much time in her husband’s company as his friends, then a mistress could expect much, much less. Millicent knew she would not exchange her place in Shoffer’s life for anything.
The male actors took less time to persuade than the ladies. Millicent and the duke visited Shoffer’s selections in their dressing rooms, stated the date and time, and received immediate acceptances.
They were ambushed by ambitious actresses as they attempted to leave. Millicent was struggling to free herself from her plump admirer when a group of gentlemen were escorted in. Millicent recognized two of them; Shoffer, it appeared, knew them all. The eldest recoiled in shock to see Millicent and Shoffer well
occupied by the opera dancers.
“Setting up a mistress, Shoffer?” cried the youngest, seeing Shoffer with one on each arm and another pressing her assets against his chest. “I say, play fair. Leave one or two for the rest of us.”
“The race goes to the swiftest … and wealthiest,” replied Shoffer blandly.
“And Mr. North,” said another, affecting to be greatly shocked. “I had not thought to see you here.”
“How can I resist the manifold charms of a well-acted play?” asked Millicent, ignoring the unspoken message. “The powerful words. The high emotions. The histrionics… the cleavages.”
The plump singer giggled and tightened her grip on Millicent’s arm.
“But we are late,” said Shoffer. “The ladies of our households will not be pleased if we delay their departures for this evening’s entertainment.”
He worked his way free of the actresses, kissed the fingers of one, then nodded his farewell to the gentlemen. Millicent found it more difficult to free herself, but eventually she was standing in the fetid back alley. The singer followed her to the door, and waved a handkerchief. Millicent managed to send her a smile, despite a tightly clenched jaw. Her mood was not improved by Shoffer’s broad grin.
When Millicent raised a threatening fist in his direction, Shoffer dodged out of range.
“Come, now, North, it is all to the good. Just give it a few hours and it will be all over London that you are setting up a mistress.”
“Oh, yes, that is good news.” Millicent stalked past him toward where an urchin waited, holding their horses. “And the story will go that I require you to hold my hand and guide me in the selection of a courtesan. That will certainly enhance my reputation as a gentleman.”
Shoffer grinned. “You cannot tell me that it is not better than the current story.”
“I do not know,” snarled Millicent, turning to face him and raising her voice. “Shall we start the same about you? That you are such an innocent, helpless virgin that…”