“Thank you, my lord.” She sniffled.
“He’s a monster.” Arthur paced then plopped in the opposite chair. “Anna, if I asked you to tell your story to the marquess, do you think you could?”
“I think so, sir.” She looked at them. “If you or Mr. Phillips was there with me.”
“If it ever comes to that, we will be right by your side,” Joseph assured her.
“Thank you, sir.” She got up and handed the handkerchief back to Arthur. “Please ring the bell, if you need me. I am at my lady’s service at all times.” She curtsied and turned to go.
“Anna,” Joseph called. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
She flashed a smile at him and left with a bit of color on her cheeks.
* * * * *
Later that morning Arthur called Anna back to stand guard over Sophia while he and Joseph went home to change. Before he left, though, as was proper protocol, Arthur made an appointment to see Father and requested Mother be there. When they returned to the Mayfair mansion, Joseph and Arthur’s valet, Owens, relieved Anna of her duties.
Arthur greeted Mother and Father coolly once Billings showed him into the study. Mother sat in a straight-backed side chair against the wall, fretting with her skirts. The marquess sat at his desk, drumming his fingers against the mahogany.
“Well, Arthur? What is it?”
“A family matter, Father.”
His mother squeaked a gasp. “It’s Henrietta, isn’t it?” She leaned forward in her chair.
Why were his parents so worried about Henny? “No, Mother. Everything is fine between Henny and me, if that’s what you are asking.”
“Oh dear,” she apologized, “please excuse me.”
“It’s Sophia.”
“What’s wrong with Sophia, son?” Father asked indifferently.
“Last night at the Wrexham ball, Sophia was attacked—”
Mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Father stared at him in shock.
“She was beaten and almost raped. Joseph Phillips discovered her and scared the man off.”
Father stood. “Did he see him? Could he identify him?”
“Yes, Father.” Arthur looked him in the eye, wanting to observe his reaction when he revealed the truth. “It was the Duke of Royston.”
Mother screeched. Father met his eyes with a fixed stare. “Are you absolutely sure, Arthur?” he asked steadily.
“Yes, Father.”
Father cleared his throat. “How do we know Phillips did not do this?”
Christ! He should have seen that coming. Arthur drew in a deep breath to tamp down the urge to lash out. “Because Sophia can attest to the fact that it was Royston,” he said firmly.
“Oh! My darling child! I must see her.” Mother stood to go.
“Not yet, Mother.” Arthur motioned for her to sit. “She’s in good hands at the moment.”
“How do you mean?” Father’s tone was laden with suspicion.
“Joseph is guarding her while my valet Owens attends to her cuts and bruises. He served in a field hospital in the Crimea.”
Mother whipped out her fan and began using it vigorously. Father uttered an oath.
“I thought it a good idea not to involve a family doctor who might be indiscreet.”
“Thank you, Arthur.” Father sighed as he sat back down. “We’ll need to see Sophia, have a talk with her.”
“Yes, Father. As soon as we are finished here.”
Father gaped incredulously. “What more could there possibly be?”
Arthur stared back. “Royston.”
“I’ll have a talk with him. I’m sure it is all a misunderstanding.”
Unbelievable. “The bruises on Sophia’s face and wrists are not a misunderstanding!”
Mother whimpered.
“Nothing has been promised to him,” Father equivocated. “We’ll keep him away from her until this cools down.”
Christ! Was Father daft? That he would not simply write the man out of their lives was beyond comprehension. Arthur shook his head. “He should never see her again. And that’s final.”
Father’s eyes narrowed. “That is my decision to make, Arthur. In the meantime I’ll deny him access to any Richmond property, including our carriages and crest.”
“Oh at the very least,” Arthur growled sardonically between his teeth.
Mother inhaled a sob. “Oh my darling, dear child! And this was to be her first Season. We must not let on that anything is wrong. She must be presented at Court. She must appear at balls. She must…” She trailed off with a choking wail.
“Yes, Mother,” Arthur bit back. “We must not reveal to polite society that one of their own savagely preys on young women and is a danger as long as he is able to walk freely among us.”
Father slammed his fist on the desk. “Arthur! Enough! I want to see Sophia. Now.”
“Yes, Father.” None of this was the reaction he had hoped for. There was something very strange indeed going on with his parents.
* * * * *
Sophia rubbed her forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the dizzying fog. The light-headed daze persisted as if she were in a dream, but a dream that was far too real and seemingly endless. She had barely left the bed all day yet was somehow exhausted. She stared at the window, at the afternoon light fading into sunset behind the patterned sheers obscuring the view. Or were the curtains meant to hide the scene inside her bedroom?
Anna had attended her that morning, immediately rushing to Sophia’s side when her eyes fluttered open. Anna held Sophia’s hand as she inquired after her health and Sophia had to convince her maid she was sensible despite the effects of the laudanum. Then Anna pressed something cold into Sophia’s palm.
Her locket.
“I found the chain of the necklace wrapped in the hoop of your crinoline.”
Sophia traced the design of spiraling tendrils and delicate flowers engraved on the cover. She opened the compartment and instantly smiled at the tiny portraits of her and Henny.
“Thank you, Anna,” she said, wiping a tear, marveling that such a fragile object had survived a harrowing ordeal. How a thing of beauty could be a reminder of an act so ugly.
“I’ll return it to your jewelry box, my lady.”
Anna left when Joseph and Owens arrived. Arthur’s valet had been very efficient, asking Sophia pointed questions, seeking only the truth without judgment, saying the bruises were not serious and should disappear in a few days or maybe a week, the cuts perhaps longer. Occasionally she had glanced up at Joseph as he stood next to the bed, watching her and Owens, objecting when she yelped in pain, making sure she was comfortable, offering her a loving gaze. She was indebted to him for her life.
Then they had left and Papa, Mama and Arthur had come in. Papa was relentless with his questions, implying she was to blame.
“Sophia, a girl of good breeding simply does not go into a garden alone at night with a man.”
“Even with a man of good breeding, Papa?” she had asked innocently.
He had colored at that but never said anything about the duke no longer being considered a suitor. He couldn’t possibly mean for her to still see him. She was determined never, ever to be in the same room with him again.
She wanted to scream that she had let Geoffrey take her into dark gardens and he had never done anything as horrible as what the duke had done. So why wasn’t Geoffrey considered suitable for marriage?
And why wasn’t Joseph, who had saved her?
Mama stayed after the men had left, her eyes bloodshot from tears.
“Sophie, sweet,” she said, fussing with the coverlet, “we must put this incident behind us. You must proceed as if nothing untoward has happened. Do you think you can do that?”
Unbelievable. “I can try, Mama.”
Mama, fretful by nature, seemed more nervous than usual. “There’s the presentation at court we must prepare for. Since you cannot leave the house with those…those…marks on your face we’ll bring the s
eamstress and the etiquette tutor here. We’ll say you tripped and fell.”
How strange that Mama had figured out how to handle the situation so cleverly and so quickly. “Yes, Mama.”
“And we’ll make sure all your ball gowns are absolutely de rigeur, à la mode and all that.” Mama patted her hand. “I should have sent you to Paris this week.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Mama, it’s not your fault,” she soothed. It wasn’t anybody’s fault but the duke’s. Although Papa thought it was partly her fault.
“Yes yes. I mean no. What’s done is done.” Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh my Sophie. I’ll make sure you meet many handsome young men.” She fanned her face with her fingers. “Then there will be Henny and Arthur’s wedding. You’ll be as beautiful as the bride.”
Sophia teared up at her mother’s emotions. She squeezed her hands. “Thank you, Mama.”
There was a light knock on the door. “My lady?”
“Yes, Anna?”
“Mr. Phillips is here to see you.”
Sophia’s heart leaped. “Please send him in.”
“Oh my dear, is that wise?” Mama queried quietly.
“Mama, Mr. Phillips saved me.”
And then he entered, his face vibrant the moment their eyes met.
“Joseph!” She could not stifle her grin, could not calm the thrum of her heart pounding in joy.
Mama stared at her in shock at the sign of familiarity.
He did not take his eyes off her. “How are you this afternoon, my lady?”
His voice was a balm to every pain in her body.
Mama nodded her greeting. “Her spirits seem enlivened by your presence, Mr. Phillips.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I am grateful I was able to prevent an insult to your daughter.”
“And my family thanks you for that, Mr. Phillips. Pray tell, how is it that you came to be present at the moment when my daughter was in distress?”
“May I be frank, ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“I followed Lady Sophia. I do not trust the Duke of Royston around your daughter. I never have since the first I met him.”
“Oh I see. And why is that?”
“I’ve met men like him before, ambitious men who seek spouses only to elevate themselves without concern for the woman in question. Whatever leverage they have they will use.”
Mama paled briefly. “Surely that is an American proclivity.”
“With all respect, ma’am, it is a proclivity anywhere power is at stake. I understand the duke has lost some money recently and is in great debt. He seeks power to regain his prestige and position in society. A marriage to Lady Sophia will bring him all that, along with financial gain. I only wonder what leverage he is using to obtain that which he seeks.”
Mama folded her hands together and pursed her lips. “Your theories are very interesting, Mr. Phillips, and not without merit I’m sure. Right now, though, we need to focus on Sophia’s health. I thank you for your service to my family.”
“Be assured, Lady Richmond, I would do it again but I hope I never have to.” He bowed. “Lady Sophia, I will take my leave. I plan to visit every day until I am satisfied you are recovered.”
She held her hand out to him. He kissed it tenderly, sending a tingling shiver to shoot straight to her heart.
He left. She smiled, hopeful she would recover swiftly and looking forward to seeing him every day.
Chapter Thirteen
Joseph lay in bed wide awake, unable to sleep, night bringing with it memories of Sophia’s attack. A week had passed and he still jumped at what was probably a servant slinking down the hall, pulling the sheets down as if that would augment his sense of hearing. He fretted as a carriage rolled by in the street, stopping briefly before rattling away. London was not as noisy as New York City but was more restless than bucolic Lincolnshire. He was irritated that every little thing out of the ordinary was setting him on edge.
He knew how to steady his nerves. A frig always worked. And seeing Sophia nude the other day—despite the circumstances—only made the urge more powerful. But anguish and anger had dulled his motivation. He couldn’t get himself to begin. He just wanted to be spent already.
Perhaps he needed some inspiration.
He lit the oil lamp to a dim flame then fumbled through the books recently acquired from Mr. Jacobs. Sapphic schoolgirls? Maybe. Bondage? That would have to wait for recent memories to fade. A harem? Possibly. With virgins? Hmmm. Priests and nuns? Definitely not. Why did he buy that one? Really anything would inspire him but that would mean he would have to actually read the damn book to find the affecting scene and the impetus just wasn’t there.
He paused at a sound. A woman’s voice filtered briefly up the central stairwell then faded.
Henny was there.
To see Arthur.
And the wickedest notion to have ever occurred to him suddenly presented itself.
He doused the light. Quietly he opened the door to the hall, looked around and tiptoed out, listening intently. They must have gone to the library first. Joseph very carefully padded along the carpet to Arthur’s bedroom. As quickly as he could he opened the door and slipped inside then closed the door behind him.
His heart raced at the daring recklessness of it all. But he had not thought the scheme through. He looked around the room and decided behind the curtains would be the best bet, provided of course, Arthur didn’t decide to open the window. With a woman in his bedroom he probably wouldn’t. Women were always cold at night.
Suddenly it seemed too easy. His heart sank. What if they decided to do it on the sofa in the library and Henny left after that? The best he could hope for was watching Arthur undress. This wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing but maybe not quite the hoped-for inspiration.
He stifled a chuckle. Arthur was randy as hell since he and Henny had breached the forced morality of their class. They wouldn’t just stop at the library sofa. The two would be ready to go at it again the second they stepped through the bedroom door. Joseph tested various configurations of the curtains before settling upon the best view of the room and the bed.
The stairs creaked, the hall floorboards squeaked and the door to the bedroom opened quietly then clicked shut.
Henny giggled.
“It’s nice to hear you laugh, darling,” Arthur said sweetly as he lit the bedside lamp.
Henny flopped lazily in the slipper chair with a heavy sigh. “Seeing her today was heart-wrenching,” she said, unlacing her shoes. “Your mother had covered her face in far too much powder and the seamstress tried not to notice.” Her voice shook. “Apparently she’s lost some weight. Her measurements have changed from only a few weeks ago.” She inhaled a sob then covered her face with her hands.
“Shh shh, love,” Arthur consoled her, removing her hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He knelt down next to her and reached under her skirts. “Let’s not talk about it right now.” He pulled off one stocking, then the other, then drew his hands up Henny’s legs to rest on her thighs. He leaned in and kissed her mouth.
Joseph’s cock livened in response.
Henny wrapped her arms around Arthur’s neck and sounded a deep, yearning moan that resonated in Joseph’s core.
The two were still practically fully dressed and he was already hard as a rock. Shit. He really did need the release.
Little by little buttons were unfastened and layers of clothes peeled away, Arthur teasing her about her crinolines as he shucked them to the carpet, she teasing him back about the distinct outline of his cock under his thin drawers.
“If you wore a crinoline, my lord, no one would see your monstrous machine.”
At that he picked her up and threw her on the bed, pouncing on top and assailing her with nibbles and tickles. Within moments her giggles became sighs as his mouth sought hers, his hands deftly unpinning her hair.
He jumped off the bed and pulled off his drawers as she scrambled out of her rema
ining undergarments, her long hair shielding Joseph’s view of her nudity. Arthur ripped off his shirt and held her gaze, the two of them naked and panting, their bodies youthful perfection.
Arthur was magnificent, lean and athletic, fine hair leading from his chest to his belly, growing thicker at his groin, from which bobbed a formidable cock, a monstrous machine indeed.
Henny angled her body as she reached for her lover, revealing her sleek curves and wondrously lush breasts. Arthur went to her, knelt before her on the bed, his mouth seeking a nipple, sucking, as Henny threw her head back with a sigh of encouragement.
Joseph’s balls tightened. Good move, my friend.
And then she laid him back onto the mattress and bent over him, a curtain of her hair obscuring what the slow, rhythmic bobbing of her head implied.
“Oh God, Henny.”
Joseph’s hands fisted, aching to grip himself.
Henny straightened, her body raised, straddling him, hovering. “Beg for it.”
It took every ounce of effort for Joseph to keep still. He prayed he would not spontaneously come.
“Fuck me, Lady Henrietta, fuck me,” Arthur pleaded. “I need to feel you, be inside you.”
She stayed poised above him.
“Please.”
She slammed down on his cock and he bucked up against her with a cry.
Joseph swallowed a gasp.
Henny rode Arthur gracefully, her cascading hair rippling in time to her undulating figure. Arthur reached for her and she grasped his hand for leverage. As she increased her pace he slid his other hand between her legs.
Watching the most intimate act between a couple deeply in love was wrong. But it was riveting, compelling and oh so very arousing. Joseph restrained himself from rocking to Henny’s sensual cadence. He had half a notion to join them, bending Henny over, smoothing his palms over her ample behind, filling her arse, feeling Arthur’s cock sliding against his inside her—
Henny yelped in ecstasy.
In one swift move, Arthur had her under him, plowing into her as she wrapped her legs around his hips, holding on. Her cries grew louder in rhythm to his huffing groans, the rhythm increasing, the thrust of his pelvis picking up speed until he drove into her one last time and held himself, jerking and growling, then collapsed against her with an exhausted chuckle.
DisobediencebyDesign Page 15