by Juniper Bell
“They allow the deLaValles into Debrett’s?” Alicia clucked her tongue, moving behind the Marquis to rub the tense tendons of his neck.
“Shocking, isn’t it? I’m surprised they don’t have a black border around our discreet little mention. But the Hamptons—why, the family dates back to the War of the Roses. The title’s been in the same family since then. Fertile bunch too. Multiple sons in every generation, each of them sprouting new twigs on the family tree. I wonder what Angelique would have thought if she knew a member of one our most illustrious families was emptying her bedpan.”
“And now changing Rose’s nappy. Should we relieve her of her duties, do you think? Explain to her that we can’t possibly allow someone so blue-blooded to tend our child?” She moved her hands to his shoulders, covered in a burgundy velvet jacket. She found it both amusing and disturbing to see the Marquis so caught up in the fate of one young woman. Although, she reminded herself, Miranda was no ordinary young woman. A gently bred girl who’d fled her home and managed to fend for herself—highly unusual, not to mention admirable.
“No. That will only alarm her. Her disguise brings her security. She’s terrified of this mystery guardian. I suppose that if he did find her again, he’d be within his right to whisk her back to the North and do what he liked with her.”
“Women have so little choice in what happens to them. It’s disgraceful. But now that she has friends, he won’t be able to act so precipitously, even if he should manage to find her.”
“I doubt he’s looking anymore. She’s nineteen, and she left her home at age sixteen.”
“Good Lord. What an extraordinary girl she is.”
“Indeed.” He peered closer at the page. “Here’s an obscure branch that resides in Northumberland.”
“My dear, are you planning to continue your research all night? I’ve come to rescue you from the books and spirit you away to bed. I’m feeling particularly naughty tonight. I found an old corset in a trunk and immediately thought of all sorts of erotic possibilities. We think of the previous generations as so much more stuffy, but perhaps they had the right idea. Confinement can be so inspiring.”
“I do love a corset.” He leaned back so his head rested between Alicia’s breasts. “It leaves the buttocks accessible for all sorts of mischief.”
But she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “I suppose you’re picturing Miranda in one at this very moment,” she said, without any rancor.
“She has the most delectable nipples. Ripe plums on a field of sweet cream,” murmured the Marquis.
Alicia glanced down at the front of his breeches and noted the unmistakable hardening there. “I see things have progressed.”
“In some very interesting directions. She’s a constant surprise. A kindred spirit, you might say.”
“Do you wish she weren’t more than she seems?”
“I wish her to be exactly as she is,” he demurred. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not even her mark?”
“I rarely notice it anymore. I’m so captured by the depth of her eyes and the shapeliness of her lips. A bit of hardened skin makes no difference to me. No, I’ll rephrase that. It’s proof positive of her triumph over suffering. It makes me respect her all the more. And it inspires the most inconvenient desire to shield her from harm.”
“I always knew you were a man of honor. Besides, she’s Rose’s nursemaid and I won’t stand for anything occurring against her will.”
“Fair enough.”
“And…” She glanced again at his breeches. “You can always find relief for your frustration with us. Perhaps a good spanking is what you need? I imagine corsets and spanking might go very well together.” The image inflamed her and she bent down to whisper in the Marquis’ ear. “I’d hold tight to the bedpost, clinging to it like a damsel in distress, my buttocks bared to your perusal and to the paddle. Or would you prefer your hand this time? I do love the feel of your warm hand stinging my bare buttocks. And I know how you love to see the pink rise to the surface. You love to see me dancing to avoid the blow, then sighing in delight as it hits its mark.”
He leaped to his feet. “Damn you, woman. You would tempt the Pope himself.”
She smiled affectionately at the man who’d become her lover and friend. Despite his voracious sexuality, she knew the Marquis to be one of the loneliest people of her acquaintance. It was high time he found someone to call his own, someone who wouldn’t gut him the way his wife had. “But why is it a question of temptation? We’re all of the same mind when it comes to our bedroom activities.”
“Because…” He stopped short, then ran a distracted hand through his hair. “I can’t. I’m busy at the moment.”
“It’s late at night. Most everyone’s asleep.”
“Most everyone?”
“Well, the baby’s been fretting, so Miranda’s probably awake. I’m guessing she wouldn’t mind some company in the nursery. You can always tell her I asked you to stop in and check on Rose.”
His eyes narrowed as he scalded her with a glance. “That’s why you came here? You don’t have designs on me after all?”
“Dearest, you know you’re always welcome. But your happiness means the world to me. Something tells me that in Miranda you might have found your match.”
He gave a disgusted snort. “My match?”
“Yes, your sensual soul mate. And before you get all condescending, remember me and the Duke.”
“Not everyone is destined for such bliss.”
“No. But who is to say that you are not? I believe you are. It’s a possibility worth exploring, don’t you think?”
She cupped his cheek tenderly, then glided to the door. “At any rate, the Duke and I will be playing maiden and ravager, so if you lose your courage, don a pirate’s sword and join us.”
“I have my sword at the ready, milady,” he said with an ironic bow.
She clucked at him, then disappeared out the door.
Chapter Ten
For several nights I stole into the Marquis’ bedchamber and we made love until the wee hours of the morning. I learned so many things. I learned about the sweet stab of a cock in my bottom hole. I learned to allow him to lick and suck my clitoris. I learned to welcome the sting of a hard palm on my rear. I’d never imagined such bliss. It seemed impossible that I, Miranda Hampton/Brown, could be granted such happiness.
I was right.
One night, a noise from outside caught our attention. It sounded like wheels on gravel. We’d just finished making love, and we were floating in that delicious haze I craved. The Marquis swung his legs from the bed and strolled to the window. He had a view of the entire grounds. I had a wonderful view of his sculpted buttocks and strong back muscles. He didn’t bother to cover himself, so neither did I. I jumped up to join him at the window, snuggling against his warm hardness. He put an arm around me.
“It looks like the Earl’s curricle. Only an expert whip such as the Earl would consider driving such a dangerous vehicle at night. And he has a passenger too.”
I peered out the window. Indeed it looked like the Earl of Dorchester, his strong, stocky body cloaked in a many-layered greatcoat against the chill. I couldn’t see the other man, who sat on the far side of the curricle.
I shivered. The Earl was home. He might go to the nursery to check on Rose—unlikely, but one never knew. I ought to be safe in my own chambers, not here with the Marquis. “I must go.”
He didn’t argue. I hurriedly dressed and combed my fingers through my hair. From outside came the Earl’s booming voice and the sleepy one of the groom. I scurried to the door.
“Miranda,” said the Marquis, “you have nothing to worry about with me. Nothing.”
I nodded, filled with a sort of peace I’d never known, and slipped into the dark corridor.
* * * * *
Breakfast room—the next morning
The Marquis strode into the breakfast room the next morning with a sense of being at
one with the world. Not even the sight of the stranger sitting with the Earl of Dorchester could destroy his mood.
“Beaumont!” The Earl jumped to his feet and pumped Gerard’s hand. “Good to see you, my friend. Let me make you known to Viscount Smythe. I ran into him at the hunting party and talked him into coming this way for some fishing. How’s the trout stream holding up?”
The Marquis had a flash of Miranda’s plump breasts in the sunshine. “Very satisfactory. Smythe.” He nodded to the man, who didn’t, at first glance, have much to recommend him. Small, piggish eyes set in a hard face. But the Earl judged his friends mostly by their taste in horseflesh, so chances were he had a magnificent mount.
“How do you find Hampshire?” he asked politely.
“Charming. Quite welcoming. Magnificent stables. I’m looking for a mare just like that dainty filly the Earl’s got.”
The Marquis, amused, hid a smile. His old friend was so easy to predict. Horseflesh was such a powerful bond. The Duke and Countess arrived, separately, of course, since a stranger was present. More niceties were exchanged, but the Marquis’ thoughts kept straying back to the night before, to those transcendent moments with Miranda bent over his bed, taking his strong thrusts into her lovely cunt, achieving her peak with sweet cries that pierced his soul. Oh the things he looked forward to doing to her—with her. There was no limit to the ways he intended to use her.
But would using her body for their combined pleasure be enough for him? He suspected not. He was no stranger to the softer feelings, having fallen passionately in love with Angelique as a naïve young man. But she’d ruthlessly drummed them out of him until he’d thought they were gone.
Until now. Until Miranda.
“Miranda,” he heard the Countess say. He came to attention so he could follow the conversation. She was speaking to a footman. “The Earl would like to see the baby. Please ask Miranda to join us in the breakfast room.”
“Miranda?” The Viscount looked up with an expression of mild curiosity.
“Our nursemaid,” explained the Countess. “She’s a gem.”
But alarm bells were now clanging in the Marquis’ head. Time seemed to slow as the Viscount frowned thoughtfully, and names from Debrett’s came flitting back from last night’s library session. Viscount, Viscount. Wasn’t there a Viscount S something from somewhere up north?
The Marquis was just opening his mouth to form a question about the Viscount’s family seat—“Are you part of the Hampton family whose seat is in Northumberland?”—when Miranda appeared in the doorway. She held Rose cradled in her arms and was looking down at her, shushing the restless babe. She looked utterly beautiful to the Marquis, her round face serene and Madonna-like, her shapely body instantly putting his cock on alert.
Then she looked up, saw the group at the breakfast table, and the blood left her face. Against the sudden stark white of her skin, her scar shone angry red. The sound of a chair crashing to the floor interrupted the Countess. The Marquis turned to see the Viscount on his feet, his face as red as Miranda’s scar.
“You wretched girl, how dare you fool these people? Hand over that child and come here immediately.”
Miranda stood paralyzed, clutching the baby. Color flooded in and out of her cheeks.
“What’s the meaning of this?” asked the Duke, also surging to his feet.
The Viscount aimed a shaking finger at Miranda.
“That girl is Miss Miranda Hampton, my ward. She’s been missing for three years. I searched high and low for her, but never did I think she’d lower herself to take employment as a nursemaid. That she would allow a fine family such as yourselves to put their child in danger. Have you no conscience, girl?”
With a roar, the Marquis launched himself in the Viscount’s direction. “You! You’re the one who took a whip to her face. I swore I’d kill you and I will.”
But strong arms were holding him back. The Earl clamped him in a bear hug. “What are you doing, man? This is my guest.”
The Marquis struggled against his grip. “Release me, damn it all!”
“I will not. Not until you explain what the hellfire is going on.”
The Marquis glanced over his shoulder at Miranda, who stood as still as Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt. The Countess stepped to her side and coaxed the babe from her arms. Miranda let her go with a helpless gesture that tore at the Marquis’ heart.
“We’ll never let her go back to you,” the Marquis spat at the Viscount. “No man who whips a girl has the right to care of her.”
“I was well within my rights!” the Viscount shouted. “I’m her legal guardian. Not only that, I’m her victim.”
“What?”
“That’s right. I’m not the only one looking for her. I hired a Bow Street Runner who’s about to get fired. That girl, my dear Countess, is a viper in your nest.”
The Countess held her baby tight to her bosom. “Please stop ranting, dear sir, and tell us what you have to say.”
“Very well. That girl, Miranda Hampton, is a thief.”
I stood as though planted in the doorway, as if my entire life had been lived in that spot, with that accusation ringing in my ears. I couldn’t move, even to speak. My arms hung limply at my side; I realized vaguely that the Countess had snatched the baby from my arms. Of course. I was a thief and a liar, and had no right to hold her child.
Amid the chaos—the Earl holding the struggling Marquis in a bear hug, the Countess soothing Rose, who had begun to cry—the Duke strode forward and took command of the situation.
“Explain yourself, if you please. That’s a serious accusation.”
“Nothing but the truth. She fled from my home in the middle of the night with pearl earrings she had no right to touch. They belonged to my late wife and were worth quite a pretty penny.”
In truth, they hadn’t been worth much in monetary terms. But when it came to giving me just enough to keep me afloat until I could make my own wages, they’d been priceless.
“Does she look like someone who has a penny to her name?” the Marquis growled. He wrenched himself free from the Earl. “When she left your house, what did her face look like? How much was she bleeding from your whip?”
I trembled, afraid that I would crumple to the ground in a heap. My scar burned as though it had just been inflicted mere moments earlier. He sprang at the Viscount, who stumbled backward. The Marquis landed one blow, right on his cheek, before the Earl muscled him off my guardian’s fallen body.
“I’ll sue all of you!” the Viscount snarled, holding his bruised cheek. I admit to some satisfaction that he felt a tiny bit of what I’d suffered.
“That’s it,” shouted the Earl. “You assaulted my friend. Outside!” And he dragged the Marquis, still shaking with passionate rage, out the French doors that let onto the terrace.
“Let me guess.” The Viscount shot me an evil glance. “You’ve sold your favors to the most deviant lord in London. I would have done much better by you.”
I buried my face in my hands, sure my humiliation couldn’t possibly get any worse.
“Sir, this is the outside of enough! You have women and children here. How dare you?” the Countess cried. “Come, Miranda, let us retire to the drawing room.”
In that moment, I loved her.
“She doesn’t leave this room.” the Viscount struck out with his harsh voice. It snapped through the air like a whip made of sound. “She’s a thief. I have sworn testimony from witnesses. She’s coming with me. I’m her legal guardian and anyone who interferes will be going against the law of the land. I won’t stand for it. Miranda, come here. Your friends can’t help you. The law is the law. Theft is a serious matter in this country.”
The Duke narrowed his green eyes. He didn’t look happy to have this mess land in his breakfast room. “Calm yourself, man. Let’s talk about this in a reasonable manner. We know Miss Brown to be a fine person and reliable caretaker of our…of Lady Rose. If it’s a question of repayi
ng the cost of the earrings, perhaps something can be worked out.”
“No,” he said flatly. “It’s been three years. No repayment is possible now. Her only choice is to come with me. I’m her guardian for another two years and I intend to fulfill my duty to my late cousin, as difficult as she makes it. Come, Miranda.”
The Countess cast me a desperate glance. But how could I expect them to come to my aid, when I’d never even told them my true name? I saw only two choices. Go with the Vicious Viscount or…
I spun on my heel and ran.
I ran and ran, out the front door, where a footman goggled at me in confusion, over a hedgerow that scratched my arms and legs, through the waving grasses of a barley field, never stopping until I reached a road that appeared blessedly empty. I didn’t know where I was or where the road led, but I couldn’t move anymore and so I sat on a tree stump and closed my eyes, praying for a kind farmer in a wagon who wouldn’t be too surprised by the sight of a girl with a scar, a nursemaid’s uniform and nothing else.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, wheels were squeaking to a halt in front of me and a voice awakened my from my exhausted slumber.
“Get in. Unless you want your other cheek scarred.”
* * * * *
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” The Marquis swung in a wild circle as if he might spot the missing Miranda behind a curtain in the drawing room. The Earl had taken him to the stables, where they’d engaged in a bit of fisticuffs, the only language the Earl understood, and the Marquis had finally been able to get a true sense of the situation through his thick skull.
Then they’d hurried back to the main house, only to find it empty of everyone save the Duke and the Countess, who paced fretfully with the now-sleeping Rose.
“She ran off and we went to look for her. The Viscount left in a huff. We don’t know where either of them are,” explained Lady Alicia.