“They cannot get wind the auction is a farce,” Frank said firmly. “You need to stay completely out of sight. Your bedroom is the best place to do that.” Then pausing, he added, “If you don’t agree, you cannot be there.”
Connie smiled.
Though sternly delivered, his words had sounded hollow.
It had been a bluff.
But she nodded.
“Very well, if you insist.”
She watched his shoulders slump in relief.
Oh, yes, she thought. Something is most definitely going on.
Chapter Fifty
Malcolm sent a message to Edith saying Connie would not be joining her after all, but didn’t tell her why. He knew his adopted sister too well. If Connie was going, Edith would move heaven and earth to join her. As late afternoon became early evening, Malcolm and Connie sat down to an early dinner, and though Connie had no appetite, she managed to finish a bowl of chicken soup and a thick slice of buttered bread.
“Malcolm,” she began, picking at her dessert, “don’t you think it was strange Frank agreed to let me come tonight with so little argument?”
“I suspect he had time to think about it and decided it was reasonable, but I do think it was strange he said his visit was urgent, then suddenly it wasn’t.”
“I think those two things are connected.”
“Possibly, though I can’t imagine how they could be. Are you finished with that pie, or do you intend to chase it around your plate until it’s time for us to leave?”
“I am quite finished,” she said with a sigh.
“Excellent. Will you come with me, please?”
“Where are we going?”
“Up to the salon. There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
“About tonight?” she asked, walking with him from the room.
“Yes, about tonight.”
“I feel quite nervous. I didn’t think I would, but I do.”
“I’m a bit on edge myself.”
“I wonder if Uncle Matthew will show up. He’s such an awful man.”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t,” Malcolm remarked as they climbed the stairs. “Even if he wasn’t involved in the theft, curiosity will entice him.”
“I’d like to know how Roger is doing.”
“I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you. I asked Corbin to make discreet inquiries via the servants’ pipeline. While we’re at the auction, he’ll be at the Black Dog Tavern. It’s a public house that caters to men in service.”
“What a good idea, but why are we passing the salon?”
“I only mentioned the salon for the benefit of the footman and Corbin. After you,” he said, opening the door to their bedroom suite.
As she walked inside, he closed and locked it behind her.
“Why do you care about what they think?”
“I care about how they view you. Corbin wouldn’t have blinked an eye, but Peter is young. I can see him laughing about the master of the house taking his new wife up to his chamber directly after dinner.”
“Ah, yes, I can see him doing that too, but why are we here?”
“Frank made it very clear you’re to stay in your room tonight, and I’m going to make sure of it, then I’ll take care of your nerves.”
“Uh... what do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Take off your drawers, then raise your dress and petticoats and lay yourself across my lap!”
* * *
Trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, Connie stretched over his legs, resting her torso on the bed with her feet on the floor.
“What do you think might happen if you go against Frank’s wishes this evening?” he demanded, his voice abruptly gruff as he began delivering a volley of hot smacks.
“Ow, I, uh, you’ll punish me, Sir.”
“Do you think this is a taste of what will happen?”
“Ow, oh, yes, Sir,” she bleated, then yelped as he blasted his hand against her sit spot. “I’ll be good, Sir. I’ll stay in my room.”
“Yes, you will, and if you think my hard hand is the only weapon that will sting your seat should you defy him,” he declared, spanking with speed and force, “I have several implements from which to choose, including a polished stick like the one at my cabin.”
“Ooh, Sir.”
“You,” he exclaimed, landing a particularly hard swat, “will not,” he continued, following it with another of equal energy on her opposite cheek, “venture out. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied breathlessly. “Oh, my bottom—it stings like mad.”
“Excellent. It should remain tender for several hours. Hopefully it will serve as a reminder to do as you’re told. Frank has his reasons for wanting you to remain where he puts you and you will follow his orders.”
“Yes, Sir.”
To her relief, he stopped spanking and began rubbing her burnt behind.
“I have reddened your backside for your protection, Connie,” he said, softening his voice. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. Sometimes I decide to do things that aren’t such a good idea.”
“That’s a roundabout way of saying you can be willful, and you certainly can, but not tonight. Now I’m going to help your nerves,” he murmured, slipping his fingers into her womanhood.
His long, thick middle finger slid inside her, but his thumb rested against her clit. The divine sensation elicited a deep moan and an urgent wriggle.
“Do you want my rigid member?”
“Oh, yes, Sir, very much.”
He had planned to massage her into an orgasm, but as he’d blistered her bare backside, his manhood had surged to life. Straightening her up and rising to his feet, he quickly dropped his trousers, then grabbed her around the waist and bent her over the bed.
“I will ravage you until you climax,” he growled, pushing her skirt and petticoats to her waist, eyeing her beautiful bottom and glistening pussy.
Placing himself at her entrance, he clasped her hips and plunged forward. He felt huge and powerful, and as he stroked with vigorous, rough thrusts, his pubic hair scratched her scalded skin, producing a delicious, prickling pain.
“Your scarlet seat sends my blood rushing,” he muttered huskily. “I must redden it more often. Your cheeks are made for spanking. I will soon show you the pleasure of it, but first you must learn what discipline means.”
Though she heard his lecture it barely registered. Her breathing had become ragged, and his cock pounded her womanhood eliciting yowls and shrill squeals.
“Not so loud,” he scolded, pulling his hand away and landing a hard slap. “Stifle your cries in the mattress.”
But the hot, stinging smack pushed her closer to her release. As if sensing her response, he smacked her again, then again, and dropping her head in the bedcovers she howled in pain and pleasure.
“My manhood is about to spew my essence,” he grunted. “You will come now.”
“I’m almost—”
Without warning his long, thick finger shoved its way into her most private hole, but before she could squeal her protest his lewd action ignited her orgasm. Crying out with each sparkling convulsion, she was only vaguely aware of the depraved intruder withdrawing, and as her spasms began to wane, she heard his deep groans. Moments later he slipped out, his arms came around her, and he moved her onto the bed.
“Duty nobly done,” he panted, falling beside her.
“I’m not sure I’d use the word nobly,” she replied breathlessly.
“What word would you use?”
“Roughly, and I loved every single second.”
* * *
A short time later they left for the auction, picking up Edward on the way. Unable to hide his surprise to find Connie in the carriage, Malcolm told him about Frank’s unexpected visit, and how he’d agreed Connie could attend.
“Edith will be none too happy when she learns she wasn’t includ
ed and Connie was,” Edward remarked. “I take that back. She’ll be fit to be tied.”
“But you’ll help her see sense, won’t you, Edward?” Malcolm said, looking at him intently. “Edith needs a firm hand or you’ll have a devil of a time.”
“I’m aware of Edith’s evil twin,” Edward replied with a chuckle. “Worry not, my friend. How are you tonight, Connie? I’m sure this isn’t easy for you.”
“No, it’s not, but I’m very pleased I’ll be there, though I’ve the strangest feeling moving through me.”
“Are you becoming sick? Should we take you home?” Malcolm asked hastily.
“It’s not that kind of feeling. It’s more a sense of... I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “If I must describe it, I would have to say I have a sense something profound will happen tonight.”
Malcolm and Edward shared a glance.
“Women’s intuition,” Edward said gravely. “It’s not something to be taken lightly.”
“I’ll stay with you as long as I’m able,” Malcolm promised, “but once the auction begins Frank wants me downstairs.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s probably just nerves,” she said as the carriage began to slow down, “though I had an excellent tonic to take care of that just before we left.”
Suppressing a grin, Malcolm glanced out the window to see where they were. The coach had passed the Clifford house and was turning the corner. As it rolled to a stop, he climbed out, helped Connie step down, then Edward followed.
“It’s such a dark night. Not even a sliver of the moon,” Malcolm remarked, staring up at the sky, “and I feel a storm in the air.”
“Is the ability to forecast the weather one of the benefits of being a groundskeeper’s son?” Edward asked.
“Indeed it is, and I suggest we make this walk to the house a quick one, or we could find ourselves drenched.”
* * *
Though Connie was concerned about climbing over the fence in her finery, with Malcolm and Edward helping her it was quickly and easily done. Greeted by the guard in the garden, they entered her former home through the conservatory, and continued down the hall into the foyer. As Edward left to find Frank, Connie and Malcolm started up the stairs, but she suddenly stopped.
“Malcolm, I need to see the drawing room.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It might upset you.”
“I don’t know why, but I’m compelled,” she murmured, and before he could stop her she hurried past him.
“Connie, wait,” he called, striding after her. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” she replied without looking back.
There had been two men in formal attire standing in the foyer at either side of the front door, and as she approached the drawing room, she spied another.
“Where is your invitation?” he demanded, stepping in front of her and blocking her path.
“It’s all right,” Frank declared, walking up behind her with Edward following.
“My apologies,” the guard said, moving aside and opening the door.
As she entered, Malcolm hurried to be at her side, but she seemed oblivious to his presence.
“Connie,” he said softly as she stopped in the middle of the room. “Are you all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Where’s Frank?”
“Right here,” he replied, stepping forward.
“You’ve done an excellent job. Everything is so clean. I recognize that round table. It used to be in the second reception room, and you’ve brought in the Chippendale chairs from the dining hall. This setup is perfect.”
“Thank you,” Frank replied, exchanging a worried look with Malcolm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She didn’t respond, but moved slowly forward to the table. The statue, still in its pouch, sat in the center. Placing her gloved hands on the drawstring, she opened the pouch and lifted out the glowing artifact. Barely feeling its weight, she stared into the creature’s ebony eyes.
You punish those who are evil, and bless those who are good, but what about my dear mother and father? They were both loving and pure of heart. My father held you. Why did you not bless him? Why did he and my mother suffer such a cruel fate?
“Connie.”
Malcolm’s voice had been soft, and though she’d been in a dreamlike state, he hadn’t startled her.
“Sorry, Malcolm, I was thinking,” she murmured, placing the statue back in the bag.
“It’s time for us to go up. Frank just told me there’s a tray waiting in the room.”
“A tray?”
“With champagne and some finger food.”
“Malcolm, this is so strange,” she mumbled, looking up at him. “I feel no sadness. I’m in this room, and I feel no sadness. In fact, I feel at peace. How can that be?”
“I, uh, I don’t know. Perhaps being in here has helped you accept everything that’s happened. Perhaps you’ve finally come out the other side.”
She paused.
“Malcolm, when we climbed from the carriage, you said, I feel a storm in the air.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So do I.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Sitting in his carriage wearing an expression of grim determination, David Manning stared at the Clifford house. Searching through Mountbatten’s home he’d found many trinkets worth a pretty penny, and he had Josephine’s jewelry, but very little cash. As he’d dressed he’d decided to bid on the statue until he was declared the winner, linger until most of the guests had left, then do a snatch and run.
If he had to, he’d shoot to get away.
Two blocks from the Clifford home lived a wealthy widow who adored him. He’d sent her a cryptic message saying he was in a life-threatening situation, and he’d drop by later that night. She was to dismiss her staff early, tell no one, and answer the door herself. With the recent spate of bizarre deaths and strange happenings, he almost believed his life actually could be in danger.
Stepping from the coach, he told the driver to leave, and with his gun hidden beneath his trouser leg securely strapped to his calf, he marched up to the door and knocked. Just as it was opened by a burly man in an ill-fitting suit, a clap of thunder sounded overhead. Lifting his eyes, David watched the sky light up.
“Do you have an invitation?” the man asked.
“It’s about to start pissing down. I’ll give it to you inside,” David said brusquely, pushing past him and into the foyer.
He pulled it from his breast pocket and handed it over, and the guard nodded and led him to the drawing room. Walking inside, David gave a cursory glance to the other guests milling around and drinking champagne, then turned his attention to the item sitting in the center of the round table.
He recognized the pouch.
His pulse ticked up.
The Statue of Kharute!
His ticket to a fortune.
The room was eerily quiet, the smattering of conversations hushed. As a servant glided by with a tray offering the bubbly wine, he accepted a glass and took several swallows. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but it was passable.
“David, old chap.”
He winced.
He knew the voice.
Matthew Clifford.
“Matthew! Fancy meeting you here,” David muttered, turning around to greet the paunchy man.
“Why wouldn’t I be? We were all in this thing together.”
“Keep your damn voice down,” David warned in a hushed whisper. “Who are the others here? Do you know any of them?”
“I can’t say I do. Oh, dear.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My stomach,” Matthew groaned. “It’s been playing up all afternoon. Nerves, I expect. I’m sitting down.”
“I think I’ll join you. Well, well, Edward Simington just walked in. That’s a surprise.”
“Edward’s here?” Matthew said excitedly, turning his bloated body in the chair. “Such a hands
ome lad. He must have been one of Monty’s secret, uh, friends.”
Rolling his eyes, David began to study the other men, but a sudden boom of thunder exploded overhead startling everyone in the room. Refusing to become unnerved, he moved his gaze to the cloaked statue.
“Gentlemen, if I may have your attention,” Kendrick declared, striding through the small group to stand behind the round table.
“Bloody hell,” Matthew grunted. “What the blazes is he doing here?”
“Beats me,” David replied, an unexpected chill making him shudder. “I don’t know why, and I hate to say it, but this whole thing is starting to feel off.”
“Off? What do you mean, off?”
“Welcome to this very special event,” Kendrick said dramatically before Matthew could respond. “I will now reveal the mystery of the missing Statue of Kharute. It is I who has been the keeper of this priceless treasure. I found it and have been keeping it safe until enough time passed. Tonight one of you fortunate gentlemen will become its new owner.”
As Frank’s men began to fake surprised conversation, David bristled.
“I don’t believe it!” he growled under his breath. “A damn butler.”
“I do,” Matthew murmured angrily. “I put that blasted man in charge of this house until I employed an agent, and he’s been looking after it these past few weeks while the agent has been away. That’s why this auction is being held here. I should have realized!”
“Yeah, you should have, you moron,” David replied in a snarling whisper. “You should have thought of it and told all of us.”
“Without further ado,” Kendrick announced, “here for your bidding pleasure, the Statue of Kharute.”
Dramatically opening the bag and lifting out the priceless artifact, he held it in the air.
“I want to know who stole it from the museum,” Frank said quietly, but loud enough for David and Matthew to hear. “Whoever it was didn’t do a very good job of keeping it under wraps.”
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