His Lordships Daughter

by de'Ville, Brian A

  Looking around the cosmetic walls of his sick room, she wrinkled her nose in protest. “The vibes here are not conductive to what I have to discuss with you, right?”

  Steven nodded. “You’re the boss!”

  “Absolutely!” she murmured, leaving the room.

  Wriggling her shoulders deeper into his pillows, Steven suddenly realised he felt a little more comfortable. Gazing through the window across the countryside, his grey eyes followed a flight of starlings scrambling through drifting cloud. Watching them until they were out of sight, he sighed contentedly, then slowly closing his eyes, drifted into a half sleep.

  Chapter 24

  Soaking in a steaming hot bath, Phyllipa’s hands pushed soapy bubbles into the air. Breathing a sigh of contentment, which scattered them even further, she browsed over the events of the past few days. Everything seemed to be going well. Sometime tomorrow Steven would be ensconced* in the west wing and she liked the thought of that, not only because he would get the crucial rest which his broken leg demanded, but it would be nice having him around. Arrangements for the Christmas party were already under way, plus new ideas regarding the running of SG Packaging, although the latter would be subject to all the involved parties agreeing, but in Phyllipa’s mind, she could see no problem in that. And, of course, in the next half hour, Miller was due. She was overjoyed to have found him again, it was always nice meeting new faces but it was something quite different to run into old friends with carnal track records already proven.

  Stepping from the water, she stood in front of the long cheval mirror,* looking at herself. Then, nodding as if agreeing with everything she saw, took a large fluffy towel and wrapping it around her nakedness walked through to her bedroom and into the arms of her expectant guest. He looked her up and down, and gave her a welcoming kiss. “Ms Phyllipa!” Miller said. “At your service!”

  With nerves already tingling with a creeping excitement, she stood and looked at him. “You’re early.”

  “Well you know what farmers are! Are you complaining?” Phyllipa smiled. “Of course not.” Pulling the towel from her shoulders they both watched it fall silently on the floor.

  Miller’s eyes erupted with lecherous greed as he feverishly ripped the clothes from his muscled body, whilst she nodded approvingly at the promising enormity of his throbbing shaft, trembling with anticipation at the solidity of the engorging base. “I have an hour and a half at your disposal.” He growled, looking at his watch. Phyllipa thrust her already swelling breasts out in her usual challenge to the world at large. “When we met, so delightfully in your van, you talked of practice, satisfaction and exploitation! So, let me see how good you really are and the words were not just

  Cheval (meaning) a long mirror mounted on swivels in a frame

  * Ensconced (meaning) to settle or comfortably

  a chapter taken from your standard screwing manual.”

  Fingering her mouth in a seductive gesture, she walked through to her private den. “My guess is that you won’t last thirty minutes.”

  “I missed by a mile didn’t I?” Phyllipa nodded. “By my watch….” She tapped the dial of the Tag Heur on her wrist. “You lasted exactly twenty seven minutes!” he grinned, muffling a yawn with the palm of his hand. “I was tired! It was a four o’clock start this morning for me.” He apologised. “We’re lambing!”

  “Early for that isn’t it?” she asked, handing him a scotch and soda from her private bar. He took it gratefully. “Yes! Tell that to the rams!”

  “So, take it you are going to use that as an excuse?”

  He drank his whisky. “Do I need one?”

  She smiled, joining him with her usual soda water creamed with ice. “It was you who was bragging about satisfying me.” “Only with practice, Thats what you said!”

  “So?” he shrugged his shoulders. “I was practising!”

  She laughed. “Now I can accept that excuse. That sounds like the truth.” glancing at her new Yorker…… “How about one for the road?”

  Wearily, Miller shook his head. “Not if it was paved with gold! I’ll see you at your Christmas party.”

  “Huh! You will be in competition then.” She told him, facetiously. “And it will be the real thing, not one of us will be practising.”

  He grinned again. “On that night hopefully, I won’t be so tired.”

  Phyllipa sipped her drink. “Hopefully you won’t, but, please don’t make any more promises you can’t keep!” she kissed his face. “ don’t forget, dress will be formal.”

  Chapter 25

  The old banqueting room at Rosewood was jumping with people enjoying themselves. Tenant farmers and families, staff and their entourages. Close friends, near friends, and even the postman and his wife who for years, winter and summer, had trundled up the long drive to the house delivering mail. This was everyone’s Christmas party, their once-a-year day, and they meant to enjoy it!

  Glittering gift laden Christmas trees, lots of food, bags of booze, all the colour and tinsel trappings that go to make up that time of the year were there, including a nine piece orchestra whose music was flowing into every corner of the get-together. It was the 14th Lord Hemingham’s way of saying thank you to all the people of the estate who had made the passing year a success.

  Henry Inchcape-Gore, his daughter Phyllipa, Lord Braseby and Lady Braseby, their son Clive and his fiancée, June, were sitting at the top of the table drinking champagne. Phyllipa’s father always attended the opening of the soiree to give a welcoming speech to everyone and present gifts. To an outsider it might have sounded and looked a bit feudal, but it wasn’t. This was simply a very congenial at-home bash, arranged and paid for by his lordship, and everyone loved it. It was their big chance to get pleasantly drunk on the boss!

  Phyllipa looked around the happy scene. Their family protocol demanded she accompany her father and his friends, at least until he left the party, and though not always agreeing with his conventions she saw no reason to differ with him on this one.

  “It’s a pity Steven isn’t here?” June looked across at Phyllipa. “He loves things like this.”

  Her friend nodded. “After Christmas he will be able to move about in one of those mobility scooters, but not at the moment.”

  “We could all take some champagne up and wish him a merry Christmas!” June suggested, but Phyllipa shook her head. “That may not be a good idea, he hasn’t quite forgotten or forgiven the Imperial Bank yet!”

  “That was business!” Lord Braseby interrupted, peevishly. “This is Christmas for god’s sake! Good will to all men!”

  Phyllipa shrugged her shoulders. “Well you could always try him Lord Braseby, but I think I ought to warn you not to get too close. It was his leg that which is damaged, there is absolutely nothing wrong with his fists.”

  “No I don’t think we should visit him!” Clive said hastily, looking at his father, apprehensively. “Let sleeping dogs lie!”

  Phyllipa laughed as she took a bottle of champagne from the table. Standing up, she beckoned to her friend. “Well I don’t think Steven will agree with your description of himself Clive, but June and I will go and awake him.” She turned to her father. “I’m sure you will excuse us.”

  “Of course. Give him my regards.”

  “How are you two getting on with one another?” June asked, as she and Phyllipa ascended the long staircase to the west wing. “have you forgiven him for sacking you?”

  “Oh that particular part is history.” Phyllipa said.

  “And how about the rest of the row?” June quizzed. “I know you had some sort of a fight, but you never did tell me what actually transpired?”

  Phyllipa shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much. My father talks to him more than I do, but, he is comfortable and happy about staying here until he’s well.”

  “I should think he is!” June looked around at the opulence of the place. “I should jolly well think he is.”

  Steven, sitting up in bed readin
g, was overjoyed to see them. “You both look good enough to eat!” he closed his book as he admired their cocktail dresses. Phyllipa handed him a glass of champagne. “We thought you may like to drink a Christmas toast with us. To harmony between friends!” he nodded as the three glasses knocked at one another. “Yes. I’ll drink to that! How’s the party going?”

  “At the last count there were three hundred and twelve guests.” Phyllipa pulled up chairs for June and herself. “And for the next three hours it will be pure bedlam! But, then it will quieten down.” She and June made themselves comfortable, and for the next half hour the three of them talked nothing but shop, June bringing Steven bang up to date on how his company was progressing in his absence. Suddenly, Phyllipa stood up. “I think it time we returned to the shindig.” She smiled at the nurse who entered the room as she left. “Bye Steven!”

  June pecked her boss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. Your company is in good hands.” Leaving the room, she hurriedly caught Phyllipa up. “Did I detect a little coolness between you two?”

  Phyllipa shook her head, irritably. “I keep telling you we are just friends!”

  June eyed her friend contritely. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry!”

  “Yes you did!”

  “O.K I admit it, but, in my opinion you and Steven are absolutely made for one another.”

  Phyllipa turned on her. “A lesser friend than I would probably say who the hell is asking for your opinion?”

  June smiled. “Yes! A lesser friend probably would, but there is something going on between you two which I don’t understand.”

  “That makes two of us!” Phyllipa snapped, a serious look on her face. “But, as you are my friend I’ll tell you what happened.” Standing on the stairs, leaning on the oak balustrade, she explained to June exactly what happened the day she was sacked from the company.

  “A blue blooded whore eh?” June queried.

  Phyllipa nodded. “That’s what I can’t come to terms with! Any other name would have rolled off my shoulders, but not that one.”

  “He was under a lot of stress at the time.”

  “So was I.”

  “Well you know what men are.” June tried to pacify her. they bawl the first name they think of and then spend the next six months apologising for it. They have this quaint idea that in defence, they are at their strongest.”

  “The trouble is.” Phyllipa explained, climbing the stairs again. “I’m not quite sure what to do about it?”

  “Forgive him!”

  “I’ve already done that. He doesn’t know it yet because I haven’t told him.” She smiled. “Let him stew a little longer!”

  June looked confused. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Me!…. I’m the problem, I’ve forgiven him but I can’t forgive myself. I should have never allowed myself to get into that situation in the first place.”

  “You are too hard on yourself.” June was doing her best to pull Phyllipa from a psychological impasse which she blamed herself for. “Forget it ever happened.”

  Phyllipa shook her head, a look of sadness on her face. “It’s not that easy. But, I am working on it and as soon as I can hide it away in my things never to do again list, I’ll be friends with myself again.” She looked at June curiously. “Of course I do know what it’s all about, really.” June’s eyebrows rose. “Pride!” Phyllipa ground out between clenched teeth. “Bloody pride!” Suddenly she stopped at a large double door. “Look, I have to pop into my place for a few minutes. If you wish to get back to the party follow this landing, turn left at the bottom and it will bring you out in the foyer.”

  “I would rather stay with you. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. You are very welcome.” Keying the door she passed through to her own apartment followed by her friend who gasped as she looked around the luxurious penthouse. “Crikey! is this all yours?”

  Phyllipa smiled. “I like my comfort.” Walking through into her private den, she picked up the telephone and dialled a number. “Where are you?” she asked, nodding her head understandingly as she listened. “Give me half an hour, then come up. But, please use the back stairs.” Replacing the receiver she saw June standing looking at the New Yorker. “I’ve always wanted to meet one of these.” Her friend murmured to no-one in particular, as she ran her hands lovingly over the soft velvet. “I do know what it is!”

  Phyllipa”s face lit up with pleasure, looked at her friend with a new interest. “It is a refreshing change to meet someone who doesn’t ask me what the hell it is.”

  “I would love to introduce it to Clive.” June murmured, an erotic gleam in her eye.

  “Well, you should get the chance later on.” Phyllipa told her, as she went to the door. “But at the moment I do have to return to my father.”

  “I’m quite looking forward to the rest of the evening.” June admitted, gleefully as they returned to the party. “If I’m not mistaken, I would say that you are up to something?”

  Phyllipa smiled as the men stood up as she and June took their seats again. “It takes more than a glass of champagne and a Christmas cracker to satisfy me.” She whispered.

  “Snap!” June giggled.

  “You have missed your fathers Christmas address.” Lord Braseby told Phyllipa, reprovingly. “At the moment he is presenting gifts.”

  “Oh dear! Have I really.” Phyllipa endeavoured to show her disappointment, but it didn’t quite come off and for a few seconds she buried her laughter in a lace handkerchief. “Well as I was on a mission to the sick, I’m sure he will forgive me.” She finally managed to say, still giggling along with her friend.

  Clive’s father shot her a dirty look. Although he hadn’t quite got over losing a major account to her bank, he had not tried any retaliation, because every time he thought about it, something at the back of his mind kept switching red lights on!

  “Would you care to dance? Ms Phyllipa?” A voice said at her elbow. Turning with surprise, Phyllipa looked into the smiling face of David. “nice to see you! Welcome to the party!” she introduced him to her companions at the table. “Right! Let’s dance.” Clive stood up. “I think June and I will do the same.” Grabbing his fiancée by the waist he followed them onto the floor.

  Although the dance area was crowded, Phyllipa managed to find space. Pulling her partner close, she brushed his lips with her own. “You look terrific!” David hugged her body. “So do you, but as I have often said, you always look your best in nothing at all.” she smiled at the compliment. “there is a private cloakroom just off the main entrance.” She whispered to him. “And, I have a key. How about a quick one?”

  David nodded. “I’m with you babe!” Phyllipa’s eyes brightened with excitement as they danced to a side door and surreptitiously slipped through into a furnished corridor. David shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t think I would ever be able to find my way around this place.” He put his arm around her waist. “I don’t know how you do it?”

  She laughed. “This is my home.” Urgently grasping his hand, pulling him towards a door marked “Strictly Private”. Producing a key which opened the door she pushed her companion through, following him, banged the door shut. “Now!” she whispered, her voice husky with desire, as she massaged the front of his trousers with the flat of her hand, happy to feel the entrapped phallus stiffening. “Let you and I celebrate the onset of the festive season in our own inimical way.”

  Straightening her dress and patting her hair back into place, Phyllipa took one last look in the mirror, then grabbing David, returned to the party, spinning around on the dance floor. “I’m wet through!” She suddenly said, pulling a long face.

  “Talking of being wet. We will have fun in the pool later.”

  “The swimming pool?” he asked.

  Phyllipa smiled as they left the floor. “I like a midnight swim!” she explained. “but for now come and sit at the family table.” June filled up their champagne glasses as they sat down.
“Ah you have finally surfaced!” She laughed. “Both Clive and I looked for you, but we couldn’t find you…” her foraging expedition was suddenly interrupted by Phyllipa’s father getting to his feet. “It is time I wished you all goodnight!” he kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Enjoy yourselves!” the occupants of the top table stood up as his Lordship left. Phyllipa looked at Lord Braseby, wondering if he and his wife would follow her father’s example, but, pouring another large brandy for himself, he sat down again.

  “I wonder if you and Clive would care to come to my apartment for a Christmas drink!” Phyllipa eyed June, then glanced at her wrist watch, “I do have a bar!”

  June’s eyes gleamed. “Mmm! And that’s not all you’ve got!” she whispered excitedly. “Is it?”

  “So where are we off too?” Clive asked, a hopeful look in his eye, as he followed the girls and David up the staircase. He was familiar with long gone Christmas’s involving Phyllipa and dared to hope a repeat may be on the menu. Suddenly they were in the penthouse and Phyllipa was introducing them to Miller who was sitting at the bar enjoying a drink. “There is champagne in the cooler!” she shouted, walking to the bathroom. “Clive, you do the honours!”

  June looked at the dark haired Miller, noting the muscular build and the large working hands. “Happy Christmas!” she wished him, wondering who he was. “I didn’t see you at the party!” Miller shook his head. “I came straight up here. Dancing isn’t really my forte!”

  June smiled. “Nor mine. There are other things which I would rather do.”

  “It’s a good party!” Clive said, absent mindedly as his own memory attempted to place Miller. He looked admiringly around the drawing room. “Phyllipa always was red hot a décor!” Miller nodded. “Yes Ms Phyllipa is good at most things.” He sipped his scotch. Clive looked at him curiously. The use of the abbreviated “mistress” denoted an employer/employee relationship. Miller, his eyes twinkled noticed the interest. “I farm! Years ago I was the Estate Manager here.” Recognition showed in Clive’s eyes. “Yes now I remember. That’s where I must have seen you. “Well!” he cried, looking around his friends. “Everyone knows everyone!”