Lord Savage

by Mia Gabriel

  “I’m sure you do, Mrs. Hart,” the viscountess said easily. “Poiret does make beautiful things. I’m afraid the costumes I’ve provided won’t be nearly as magnificent, but it is the only way to ensure that everyone is properly provided for. Otherwise there’s always one or two guests who forget to bring a suitable costume of their own, and thus are left out of the Game.”

  I nodded. I understood the wisdom of the viscountess’s thoughtful plan, but still I wished that I could have worn my own costume, enticingly covered as it was in crystal jewels and swirling gold embroidery. Nothing the viscountess provided could rival it, and there would have been no doubt I’d have captured Lord Savage’s attention.

  “Now, my dears, if you please,” the viscountess continued. “Return to your rooms. Your maids and manservants will be waiting to assist you in changing, and then hurry back!”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hart,” Lord Savage said, smiling still as he leaned back against the bench. “Do hurry back. I’m not very good at waiting.”

  That was all the incentive I required. I rushed up the stairs to my room, eager to see the costume that Lady Carleigh had provided. The viscountess was known for her extravagant taste, and I was sure the costume would be exquisite, even if it wasn’t by Poiret, and tightly laced, too. The viscountess did know how to dress herself to please gentlemen, and I was reassured by that. How could I not be, with Lord Savage waiting impatiently for me?

  But when I entered my bedroom, the costume lying on the bed for me made me gasp with dismay.

  It was the simplest of garments, a long shift of sheer white silk, untrimmed and without sleeves, and made to slip over the head without any fastenings.

  “Simpson!” I called, and the maid appeared instantly from the dressing room. “Simpson, her ladyship said she’d sent me a fancy dress costume to wear tonight. Where is it? Or at least where is the rest of it?”

  “That is the costume, ma’am,” Simpson said. “And that is all of it.”

  “This?” I plucked the costume from the bed, holding it up. The silk was so sheer that I could see right through it—as would everyone else. “I cannot wear this. It won’t even cover my corset!”

  “It’s not supposed to, ma’am,” Simpson said, her face impassive. “You’re not to wear a corset, nor anything else. Just the costume, ma’am.”

  “Nothing?” Appalled, I stared at the filmy silk in my hands. By comparison, the costume of the dancer I’d just seen was propriety itself. “I might as well parade myself naked as to wear this.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Simpson said. “That’s rather the purpose, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t be impudent,” I snapped. “Why would her ladyship expect her guests to appear is such a—a state of nudity?”

  “Not all her guests, ma’am,” Simpson said. “Only the newcomers. The newcomer gentlemen will be wearing trousers of the same stuff, and without any drawers beneath, neither. Nothing’s to be hidden, ma’am, not tonight.”

  “Nothing’s to be hidden?” I repeated, my voice rising. Certainly nothing would be hidden if I were to appear in this—this costume. “Hidden from what?”

  “From the Protectors, ma’am,” Simpson said, as if this were the most obvious explanation in the world. “Forgive me, ma’am, but didn’t her ladyship explain the Game to you?”

  “No, she did not,” I said. “Simpson, go to her ladyship and tell her that I must speak to her at once. At once!”

  The maid curtseyed and left, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, the costume still clutched in my hands. I looked down at it, seeing how the stones of my rings showed through the silk. Not even Arthur had seen me in such a revealing garment. I could not imagine appearing before a group of virtual strangers in such an indecent state.

  It would be one thing to undress before Lord Savage, as a lover would in my bedroom, but not this. With a wordless exclamation I balled up the costume and hurled it across the bed.

  “Mrs. Hart?” Sounding faintly wounded, Lady Carleigh stood in the door with Simpson hovering behind her. “I understand you are having some misgivings about my taste in costumes.”

  I came forward and shut the door behind the other woman, leaving Simpson in the hall. I took a deep breath to compose myself, and chose my words with care. I didn’t wish to offend the viscountess, but I did need to make my misgivings clear.

  “When I accepted your invitation, Lady Carleigh,” I began, “I thought I would be attending a house party in the country. I’d no idea that you would be turning your house into a—a brothel, with your guests expected to parade about in next to nothing!”

  “A brothel?” Lady Carleigh clucked with dismay. “Oh, my dear, it seems we do have a misunderstanding. When I met you, I believed you were an adventurous lady, full of spirit, and one who would contribute to my gathering.”

  I raised my chin. “I am spirited, yes, but that does not mean that I am a—a slattern.”

  “So what exactly does it mean?” The viscountess tipped her head to one side. “That you are a spirited prig? That you are too cowardly to explore the more interesting aspects of pleasure? That you are unable to trust another? That you are too fearful to give yourself over to delights so rich that you cannot even imagine them?”

  I didn’t answer, my head spinning with doubts. Explained this way, I did sound like a prude, and worse, a coward. Hadn’t I left New York behind for exactly this kind of experimentation? Hadn’t I wished to discover experiences that were far beyond my narrow past?

  “Especially when that pleasure would be in the arms of Lord Savage,” Lady Carleigh continued. “He has taken a great liking to you, you know. He is most particular in his choices of companionship, and I assure you that he was immediately drawn to you.”

  “He was?” I asked, pleased. “I was drawn to him as well. Though he has been somewhat—somewhat challenging.”

  “What man isn’t?” said the viscountess, sweeping her arm through the air to encompass challenging men everywhere. “But Lord Savage is worth that challenge, Mrs. Hart. Entirely.”

  I sighed, thinking of him. If ever a man was worth a challenge—any challenge—it would be Lord Savage.

  “Nor will our delightful little game be such a terrible ordeal,” Lady Carleigh continued. “It’s all in sport, you see, and great fun. You newcomers will now be called Innocents, because you are. Those of us who’ve visited here before become the Protectors, protecting and educating the Innocents in our ways. Surely you can find no threat in that?”

  I said nothing. I didn’t agree, but then, I no longer quite disagreed, either. After all, I truly was an innocent, in more ways than someone like Lady Carleigh could ever understand.

  “As soon as all the Innocents return to join us downstairs, the next stage of our entertainment will begin,” the viscountess continued. “Even now the Protectors are choosing the Innocents they wish to have under their, ah, tutelage, by submitting their selection by way of cards in a hat. It’s my role to announce the pairings, and then the true amusement begins.”

  “I see,” I said, reassured. With Lady Carleigh making the final decisions, there would be no question of my ending up with anyone other than Lord Savage. “What occurs after that?”

  “Why, I cannot say,” Lady Carleigh said, chuckling. “Each Protector will have a different method of instruction, just as each Innocent will have different inadequacies or failings that will need correction. All in sport, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmured faintly. “But the pleasure that you promise—”

  “Oh, it will be there, I’m certain of that,” Lady Carleigh said blithely. “For the remainder of the week, the Innocent must do exactly as the Protector bids. Having played the part of an Innocent myself—for I would never ask my guests to do anything without having experienced it firsthand—I can assure you that you will enjoy yourself.”

  “If you have done it yourself,” I said slowly, “then I suppose it must not be so very bad.”

  “Not at all!” exclaimed
the viscountess. “While the experience of being an Innocent may at first seem distressing, it is in fact quite, quite thrilling, and pleasurable. Especially if you draw a Protector like Lord Savage.”

  Slowly I retrieved the costume and smoothed it in my hands. It was not just the revealing nature of the costume that concerned me; it was also how it symbolized my lack of choice, and how I would be required to give up control to another, even if that other was Lord Savage. “Must I wear this?”

  “I fear so, my dear,” Lady Carleigh said. “To give wings to our little fantasy, it’s necessary to strip away all our old misgivings and inhibitions. It is a costume, to make you believe more in the part you’ve chosen to play among us. That’s all it is, you know: playing, and pretend.”

  I listened, trying to make sense of this explanation. “Playing” and “pretend” struck me as childish, yet the so-called Game that would be played would be nothing but adult.

  Lady Carleigh lay her gloved hand on my arm to reassure me.

  “Consider it all a way to entertain ourselves most pleasurably for the time we are here,” she said, “and nothing beyond that. In your role as an Innocent, you must be dressed to reflect inexperience, even purity.”

  I shook my head as I looked down at the costume. “It’s not my inexperience that I dread showing, my lady.”

  Lady Carleigh laughed. “You of all the ladies should have no fears on that count! You are exceptionally beautiful, and I expect the interest in you will be strongly contested.”

  Yet still I hesitated, and with a sigh, Lady Carleigh rose.

  “If I have not convinced you yet, Mrs. Hart,” she said, her voice and manner full of resignation, “and you still do not wish to play our game, then I shall send for the motorcar for you directly. You’re not a prisoner here, you know. You’re always free to leave at any time, and return to London, or wherever you wish.”

  The viscountess crossed the room, pausing at the door to smile sadly.

  “Poor Savage!” she said. “He will be most grievously disappointed when I tell him you’ve changed your mind.”

  I considered the costume again, striving to imagine Lord Savage’s reaction when he saw me in it. If I departed now, I’d never know for sure what that reaction would be, and all I’d be left with would be regrets. If I fled to London, then I might as well sail home to New York on the next steamship.

  My grand, ambitious adventure would be done, finished before it had begun, and all because I was too much a coward to seize the opportunity—and the man—that I’d claimed I wanted. I’d always believed myself to be independent, but if I left now, I’d be letting my prim upbringing win, and I’d be acting exactly like every other proper New York widow would. I would not be the bold renegade that Lord Savage had called me. I’d be a sheep—a proper, obedient, boring sheep.

  And at last I had my answer. I nodded resolutely, my mind made up.

  “If you please, my lady,” I said. “Send for Simpson, so that I might change my clothes.”

  Lady Carleigh smiled and clapped her hands. “Oh, I am glad, Mrs. Hart! You’ll see. You will not regret this, not for a moment.”

  The viscountess summoned the maid, and left to return to her other guests. Simpson said nothing, but briskly began removing the many layers of my evening dress.

  “Have you prepared other ladies to be, ah, Innocents, Simpson?” I asked as the maid unfastened the long row of tiny buttons on the back of my dress. “That is, before today?”

  “I’ve done better than that, ma’am,” Simpson said. “I’ve played the role of an Innocent myself, when there weren’t enough fine ladies to match the gentlemen. Her ladyship told the truth, too. It is most exciting, having all those gentlemen gawking away at you like you was a right goddess.”

  “You weren’t ashamed to wear so little?”

  “What, you mean the costume?” Simpson said, unlacing my long corset. “Nay, not really. All the other Innocents’ll be dressed the same, so that’s a comfort. We’re paid extra wages for it, too, plus what our masters give us. I’ve earned more in a week playing an Innocent than an entire year as a maid.”

  “That must be welcome,” I said, thankful there’d be no money involved with my performance. Having a gentleman—even Lord Savage—pay for my favors would be … distasteful.

  “Extra money’s always welcome, ma’am,” Simpson agreed. “I won’t deny it. But mostly it’s the power of the Game, ma’am. Standing there before them gentlemen, displaying what God gave you, it makes you feel powerful to be a woman. Nothing to be a-frighted of, ma’am. You’ll see.”

  She quickly removed the last of my clothes, leaving only my shoes and stockings.

  “Gentlemen prefer a pretty pair of silk stockings to a bare leg, ma’am,” Simpson explained briskly. “And the heeled shoes show your feet and ankles to better advantage than slapping along barefoot like a duck.”

  She held the costume up over my arms and dropped it over my now-naked body. The silk slithered and fell into place, clinging to my breasts and bottom like the merest whisper of a caress.

  “You must take off your jewels, ma’am,” Simpson said, already pulling the diamond pin from my hair. “You can’t be wearing nothing that shows who you are, or were. Innocents don’t have pasts, and they don’t have futures. They can only live in the present, as their Protector sees fit.”

  I frowned. “That sounds rather like my own father and his endless rules.”

  “I’ll warrant it is, ma’am,” Simpson said, musing. “For aren’t all fathers and husbands protectors?”

  “I should not like my father to have seen me dressed like this,” I said.

  Simpson laughed, deeply and earthily.

  “Nor my own da, either,” she said. “I would’ve gotten a proper thrashing if he had. But Lady Carleigh’s game is different, because it’s pretend. You’re not to address your Protector unless he addresses you first, or unless he gives you leave. He can call you whatever he pleases, but you can only call him ‘Master,’ even if he be a lord. You’re supposed to be dependent on him for everything. That’s part of the sport. There you are, ma’am. Have I pleased you?”

  Taking a deep breath, I crossed the room to the tall standing mirror.

  It was I, but not I. The woman staring back at me from the mirror was undeniably beautiful, but in a wild, untamed way, like some shameless forest nymph. On my body, the costume was like a magical mist, making me look more naked than if I’d been without it. Nothing was hidden, from the round fullness of my breasts to the dip of my navel, to the shadowy curls at the juncture of my thighs.

  “Permit me, ma’am,” Simpson said, standing behind me. She reached around to fondle my breasts and tweak my nipples. Startled, I gasped, and tried to squirm free.

  “Nay, ma’am, you must trust me about this,” Simpson said firmly. “The gentlemen do love the titties, and you’ve a wondrous pair of them. But you want to show yourself pert and ready. Rub them yourself before you enter the room so they’ll be stiff, ma’am. Though as soon as you feel all them eyes on you, they’ll go hard on their own.”

  But my nipples didn’t need any further rubbing, from Simpson or my own fingers. The thought of the scene that the maid described—of standing like this before a crowd of lustful men—was more than sufficient to make my nipples into tight buds of excitement, and bring a flush to my cheeks as well.

  “Thank you, Simpson,” I said. “I believe I am ready. Will you escort me downstairs?”

  We walked swiftly down the stairs and back to the Egyptian Room. Although the footmen we passed were too well trained to stare, I was still acutely aware of walking before them, the filmy costume drifting about my naked body and my uncorseted flesh jiggling with each step.

  I told myself I was playing a role, and that I was now a different lady altogether from the painfully proper Mrs. Hart of New York. But then, hadn’t that been a role as well, pretending in public that I was Arthur’s loving and dutiful wife when there had never been a scra
p of genuine feeling between us?

  “How fetching you look, my dear!” Lady Carleigh exclaimed, slipping through the door of the Egyptian Room and into the hallway to greet me. “I’m so happy you decided not to leave us, with your Protector most grateful of all.”

  “It’s Lord Savage, isn’t it?” I asked eagerly, trying to see past the viscountess and through the barely cracked door. “Is he there?”

  “Indeed he is,” Lady Carleigh said, taking my hand. “But I must tell you that there has been a small bit of, ah, confusion.”

  “Confusion, my lady?” I asked, confused myself. “What kind of confusion? Doesn’t Lord Savage wish to be my Protector?”

  “Oh, he does, he does,” Lady Carleigh assured me. “But it seems that another gentleman has also become determined to possess you.”

  “Two gentlemen!” I exclaimed with dismay. I’d been so focused on the earl that I hadn’t even considered that he’d have a rival, nor did I wish him to. “But I thought Lord Savage was—”

  “Yes, yes,” Lady Carleigh said, pulling me forward. “It is rather irritating, is it not? But I have contrived a solution worthy of Solomon himself. I have asked the two gentlemen to bid for the opportunity of educating you, with the winning bid to benefit the local parish charity. There’s no better way to test a gentleman’s ardor than through his pockets.”

  “You’re going to sell me, my lady?” I asked, stunned by this new twist.

  “I suppose so, yes,” Lady Carleigh said. “It’s rather a brilliant idea, is it not? The gentlemen believe everything’s been fairly done, charity benefits, and you shall have the delicious experience of being a prized houri, desired and fought over. Now come, my dear, and be as tempting as possible.”

  The footman opened the door more widely, and Lady Carleigh led me into the room. The air was thick with the heady scent of more incense, redolent of dark mysteries, while the musicians continued to softly play their exotic music. It did have all the feel of some sultan’s palace instead of a country house, a seductive invitation that was impossible to resist.