It was Oakley who finally found them, half an hour later. In the midst of nibbling on Diana’s neck, Jason only vaguely registered that the man kindly closed the door and let them continue taking their tea.
PART IV
A Maid for the Taking
Chapter One
She was watching him again. The woman said she didn’t want him, rebuffed all his advances, but then she watched him. Robert caught her gaze, not letting go of her even as he fucked little Ella. It was Rouge he wanted to fuck and he let her know as he narrowed his eyes, that every thrust into this woman was a thrust he wanted to make into her.
With the barrier of her red silk mask it was difficult to decipher Rouge’s expression, but her lips softened and parted and the swell of her breasts rose over her scarlet gown.
She licked her lips. Slowly. As if she wanted to taste him. Right then, Robbie would have wagered his fortune on it. She knew just how to make a man feel like he was the only one, that there had only ever been him. Then again, she was a professional, so he couldn’t be sure, certainly not with this game of hot and cold she liked to play.
Rouge reached up to stroke her own neck and the movement made him jerk inside Ella. After all, she was wearing gloves again.
Safely inside Madame Rouge’s suite of rooms at the rear of the first floor, Lucy pulled off her gloves. Then she unwrapped the gold turban from her head and drew the pins from her reddish-brown hair until it fell free down her back. She slipped off the silk gown and draped it over the velvet-upholstered chaise longue.
She stood for a moment, naked, in the center of the room. Then she turned her head so that she caught her reflection in the large mirror that hung on the far wall.
Her breasts were full and high, the pink nipples puckered and tight. Lucy lifted her hand to stroke her left breast, cupping it, feeling the weight overflowing her palm. She liked the way her body looked, as if she were one of the paintings that hung in the hallways of the club. She liked the way her breast looked covered by a hand.
What would it feel like if it were his hand instead of hers—Sir Robert George’s warm skin touching hers? Another rush of heat gathered between Lucy’s legs and she reached her other hand down to touch the moisture, the slickness of her cleft.
She shifted, stretching her arms out and bending from the waist, so that her palms rested on the bed, her back arched like a cat and her buttocks lifted. It was the position the lovely, sultry Ella had been in while Sir Robert thrust himself into her.
Lucy slid her fingers back down to her slit, to the little muscular curve that was begging to be touched.
She sighed at the light pressure, the circular movement. But she wanted more. Her inner muscles were grasping at air. She needed to be filled, she needed to be fucked.
She’d waited this long. She could wait a little longer.
After all, a woman only undoes her virginity once and therefore it would have to be a truly momentous occasion. In the sultry halls and rooms of Harridan House, Lucy had seen that sex could be both beautiful and cheap. She’d spied on any number of encounters, either in the guise of Madame Rouge or unnoticed in her usual drab maid attire, which signified her as off-limits and simply staff.
The women in the flimsy Grecian costumes were the ones who experienced all the sensual pleasures the house offered—they, their male counterparts, and the members of Quality, male and female, who chose to visit the private club.
Lucy was a plain, no-nonsense woman. She knew well enough that a country girl from the Cornish wilds shouldn’t expect anything more than the generous salary Madame Rouge paid her. Perhaps in a few years she would have saved up enough money to buy that tavern and a respectable husband for herself. But this was now. At eight and twenty years of age, having, despite the bawdiness of her current employment, walked the straight and narrow path all of her years, Lucy desired something more.
She wanted what she saw in the eyes of so many of the House’s members, the orgasmic rapture and the shuddering sensation she could only imagine. She wanted it all now.
Lucy knew the man for the job: Sir Robert George.
From details her employer had dropped, she knew he was on the far side of forty. She wouldn’t have thought. He looked nothing like what a man on the far side of forty should look like. Surely a man that old shouldn’t smolder with sensuality, shouldn’t be an Olympian when it came to lovemaking, tirelessly and endlessly inventive. He’d been frequenting Harridan House as long as Lucy had worked there, and from a discreet peek at the membership book when the house manager wasn’t looking, she knew he had been a member for longer than that.
But for his fair coloring, he looked the way she imagined an ancient Greek athlete might, like the statues scattered throughout Harridan House. Straight nose, full lips—he was of average height, his body compact and well defined.
Not an inch of his flesh had started to soften with age. Lucy had seen almost every inch of his body.
And every time, those eight hard protruding inches had thrust into someone other than her.
She groaned, thinking about his lovely cock. She wanted it, she wanted him. But there were two rules that Lady Blount had given Lucy when she hired her two years earlier. One, that she must never reveal Lady Blount’s identity; and two, that when she dressed as Madame Rouge she could take no one to her bed. Diana did not wish to deal with the consequences of those actions and wished to maintain the aloof reputation of the mysterious proprietor.
So Lucy settled for her fingers and the fantasies that flickered through her head like reflections on still water.
Chapter Two
George!” Robert didn’t need to look to know it was Raoul Molineaux who called him. The Frenchman’s accent made him stand out like a sore thumb on Pall Mall.
“Afternoon, my friend,” Robert greeted him warmly. He did consider the man to be a friend as well as business partner. It was a partnership that had seen both of them through difficult times. At first, Robert had sponsored the refugee in British society, and then, when Robert inherited the surprisingly bankrupt baronetcy from his older brother, Molineaux had helped him rebuild the family fortune.
More than rebuild.
Robbie was now rich because he’d never given a damn about what anyone else thought. If he wanted to dabble in trade, he dabbled in trade and his coffers were all the better for it. He was sinfully rich. Perhaps no amount of wealth could ever be sinful, but nonetheless he was wealthy. Perhaps the sinful part came from his other actions—his disinterest in monogamy.
That, however, was where he and Molineaux parted ways. The Frenchman had married fourteen years earlier and claimed to never regret a day in his life.
“It’s fortuitous we meet. Madame has requested your presence at a dinner tomorrow evening. She’s taken up a protégé and thinks this might be the very one you are looking for.”
A wife, of course. Molineaux knew that Robert was looking and having difficulty in the search. Though rich he was considered a rake and not fit for young, impressionable girls. Hargreaves might have been eager to sell off his daughter to pay off his gambling debts, but most of society didn’t quite see it that way. Robert would likely not be marrying up.
At forty-two years of age, Robert could not count on all the years to come. His own father had died at forty-four, his older brother at thirty-five. Death could come at any time, and before that he still had two things to do: leave a legitimate heir and live life to the fullest.
The second he was succeeding remarkably at. The first…well, the Hargreaves slut had slipped through his fingers.
Robbie needed an heir and now was the time. Not later, when his cock had withered and his seed gone impotent.
“Who is she?”
“Miss Emmaline Clarke. Lovely young lady.”
Robert now understood why Clarissa Molineaux thought the girl might suit him, for if he would not be fortunate enough, her words, to fall in love, he might as well make a profit off of the marriage. “Clarke, her f
ather’s the silk importer?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” Molineaux affirmed.
“Interesting. I’ve been meaning to speak with him.”
“Now you may, tomorrow evening.”
Chapter Three
Good evening, my lady,” Lucy greeted Diana, Lady Blount, as the woman entered the bedroom. She quickly stepped forward to help her employer with her cloak. As she always did, Lucy rattled off the status of the house and the goings-on that she thought would most interest the lady. “It’s a lively evening here. In the blue room, Lord Sedgwick has created quite an orgy. Oh, and you’ll be interested to know that Lord Simon is here. In the Oriental room, last I saw. I gather you’ve dropped the man…”
“Oh, Luce, what would I do without you?” Lady Blount sighed, sitting down on the chaise longue. Now, in their own distinct attire, the differences between their appearances were quite marked. While they shared the same peaches-and-cream coloring, in a well-lit room Lucy’s eyes were a lighter, clearer green and her hair was more brown than the shocking red of Lady Blount’s.
Lucy took great pleasure in knowing she had made herself indispensable to her employer. She valued the trust and freedom Lady Blount gave her, as well as the myriad little confidences the woman had let drop over the years.
From everything the younger woman had said, she had had a barren, unhappy marriage to a much older man whose sexual abilities had floundered in the latter years of his life. When he had taken the unusual step of bequeathing to his wife the sex-oriented club that Harridan House was, Lady Blount had embraced the opportunity for the freedom it gave her.
The open confidences didn’t go both ways. As much as she liked her employer, the woman was still that—her employer—and thus there were some matters Lucy preferred to keep private.
She grinned. “I suppose you’d have to dress up as Madame Rouge a bit more often,” she teased.
Of course, dressing up as Madame Rouge was one of Lucy’s favorite parts of the job. She had an expansive choice of clothing, each indecently cut dress made out of the most sumptuous materials. There was nothing plain or rough in that wardrobe. For the hours she pretended to be her employer, Lucy reveled in the luxury.
But there were things she had to do to maintain the disguise: wear gloves to cover her work-calloused hands, change her accent to ape Lady Blount’s well-modulated tones. That wasn’t particularly hard as she had been working for years already to mask the Cornish cadence of her childhood.
“Well, I have dropped him. I should have done it ages ago, or never picked him up.” Lady Blount reached her hands over her head and stretched, her back arching over the curved rear of the chair. “The man has no imagination.”
“Certainly not enough to please you,” Lucy teased. Over the last two years she’d had opportunity to see Diana in action. The very infrequency of the encounters at Harridan House had intrigued Lucy enough to watch.
“What would you know of what pleases me?”
Lucy laughed. This she was not embarrassed to admit. She knew that Lady Blount liked when Lucy was outspoken and a little bit brash. So even though that demeanor was one that came from artful practice rather than nature, she used it to effect. “I am your spy, my lady, I would be remiss in my duties if I hadn’t ever seen what pleases you best.”
Lady Blount blushed.
“I’ll send you to my next lover then,” Lady Blount said with her own little laugh. “You’ll have to instruct him to do just that.”
Lucy giggled, imagining such a conversation. She’d had any number of odd conversations since coming to work at the club. Whether it was one of the “nymphs” sharing a sordid tale or conversations between the “members” of the club, she had gained a wealth of knowledge that would surely rival what young men studied at university.
“Of course it may be a while before I choose my next,” Lady Blount continued, sighing again. “Oh, and I did tell you, did I not, that I will be staying in Brighton for the season?”
Lucy had not been told. Of course, she had expected Lady Blount would travel, but the entire season?
Why did the image of Sir Robert George, the muscles of his back flexing with every movement, fill her mind?
No—Lucy pushed the insidious thought away.
But after Lady Blount left, a sense of freedom beguiled Lucy. Why not? Why not, after all this time, have a little affair?
Lady Blount would be in Brighton and intended to stay there for the season or at the very least through August. For the first time in the two years she had worked for the lady, Lucy considered breaking her trust.
She wanted Sir Robert. She knew Sir Robert wanted Madame Rouge. Therefore, she would give him Madame Rouge.
Chapter Four
Robert left Molineaux’s house late in the evening, slightly drunk on the rich Bordeaux wine the man continued to stock despite England’s war with France.
Late perhaps for the Molineauxes, who, after shepherding away most of their guests, wished to retire. Not that Robert could blame them. He, too, felt the amorous effects of the wine.
Not quite yet ready for the evening to end, he directed his coach to Harridan House.
The club was slow, the majority of its members having vacated London in the previous weeks. He climbed the stairs to the first-floor drawing room, his evening’s desires not yet formulated. Only one of the three large canopied beds was occupied.
Then he saw her, Madame Rouge, a glass of champagne in her hand, lounging in one of the club chairs at the center of the room, chatting with young Lord Percy.
Chatting but not flirting. It was obvious to him in every line of her body that she was neither interested in the boy nor interested in giving Percy the impression that she wanted him.
Just then she looked up and met Robert’s gaze. Lifting one elegantly gloved hand, she offered him a toast with her half-full flute and what he had come in the last months to term that look.
That look was certainly not the one she had trained on Lord Percy. No, it was Robert she chose to torture with that “come hither” expression.
It was an invitation he could never resist, even though he should know by now that she preferred to tease him rather than to satisfy him.
“Sir Robert,” Rouge murmured in greeting with a pleased smile.
“Evening, George.” Percy nodded in acknowledgment, unfolding his tall, loose-limbed frame to reach a hand out.
“Evening, Percy.” Robert shook the boy’s hand. He had known Percy’s father well, even seen the boy grow up to some extent. “I thought you had left for Brighton already.”
Percy smiled sheepishly. “I intended to, but then I, um, as I was just telling Madame Rouge, I have an assignation…”
Robert raised a curious eyebrow. “And where is this mysterious…lady?”
Percy flushed then. “I’m not quite sure.”
Rouge laughed, giggled almost. It was a sound that fascinated Robert. He’d only recently started to notice the interesting dichotomy of her personality. Sometimes she appeared completely refined and sophisticated, aware of every aspect of her movements. Then sometimes there were these moments when she didn’t seem quite as in control.
Which was fine, since what he wanted was to be in complete control of her body. Just one night, perhaps even just one time, but he wanted to know how she felt, how she tasted.
He knew very well that half of his interest was the challenge, the game of hard-to-get that she’d been playing with him for the last two years.
“Well, Percy, let me advise you. There is only so long you let a lady keep you waiting.”
“Is that so, Sir Robert?” Rouge tilted her chin up toward him, one side of her mouth curved up just slightly.
“Well, it does depend on the lady.”
“I am so pleased to hear you say so.”
Percy coughed and Robert gave him his attention.
“Hmm, I suppose I’d best be going.” Percy laid his palms flat on the arms of the chair and pushed himself
up.
Rouge stood as well. As usual, her silk gown clung to her body, revealing the obvious absence of petticoats.
“Don’t forget, my lord,” she said, as Percy kissed her outstretched hand, “we have many women here more than willing to ease any heartache you might suffer.”
“Yes, yes of course,” the boy said, flustered, taking a step back. “Good evening.”
Robert didn’t wait to watch him leave. Instead he moved closer to Rouge, till she was trapped between him and the chair.
If she wished to step aside she could. If she wished to step forward, well then, there were only a few inches to traverse to be in his arms.
“And how much longer do you intend to make me wait?”
She stepped to the side, her thigh just grazing his as she turned.
“I believe, Sir Robert, you have never had a proper tour of Harridan House.” She slid her arm under his and peered up at him through the slits in her red silk mask. She propelled him forward, slowly, across the drawing room until they entered the hall.
“I’d much prefer an improper tour.”
“Yes, yes,” Rouge said, brushing his words aside with a little laugh, “that’s what I meant of course. Some of the most interesting artwork is just across the hall.”
She gestured to the large, carved doors that led to what he assumed were her private rooms.
He knew then. Half in disbelief, he closed his hand around hers.
“I believe it is long overdue.” He couldn’t keep the depth of his desire from his voice and the deep huskiness surprised even him.
He followed her across the threshold and kicked the door shut.
Chapter Five
It was not Lucy’s first kiss, but when upon entering the private rooms, Robert pulled her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers, she thought it may as well have been. This was nothing like the mildly pleasant contact of skin all those previous encounters had been. The sensations were sharp and fierce. He didn’t start slow or gentle: he used his lips, his tongue, his teeth even, to pull everything out of her until she was kissing back, following his motions, running her own tongue along his lower lip.
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