THE RED LION TURNED OUT to be a comfortable establishment on Duke Street. Away from the misty waterfront, the night was lovely and clear. It always amazed Henry how intrigue existed in the most innocuous of places. The pub was lit by lanterns hung along the front of the building. Several of the patrons had opted to enjoy their ale in the balmy summer night on the benches there. The sound of laughter and conversation drifted through the open windows, and when Henry stepped inside, it smelled pleasantly of stew, pipe tobacco, and good ale. A large round table in the corner housed a friendly card game, and in another corner a few men had gathered to watch two of their friends square off at darts.
Two barmaids distributed drinks in large earthenware containers around the room, exchanging pleasantries and flirting with the regulars. A rotund matron delivered bowls of stew from the kitchen, and the publican presided over the lengthy bar at the back.
Henry easily identified Mary by the blond curls peeking from beneath her maid’s cap, and headed for the left side of the bar where she had stationed herself after delivering drinks. He sat on one of the stools and looked expectantly in her direction.
She noticed immediately and bustled toward him, wiping the counter as she went. “What can I get ya, sir?” The girl’s voice was soft with the lilt of the south coast.
Henry gave her his most winning smile. “A pint of bitter, please.”
She took in his broad shoulders and the quality of his jacket and leaned closer. “A bit of stew would go well with that; or a nice piece of steak and kidney pie?”
Henry kept smiling. “I just had dinner, but how about you get yourself a drink and keep me company?”
Her grin revealed an even row of little white teeth. She was really quite pretty.
“Don’t mind if I do.” She picked up two tankards and went to fill them directly from the casket built into the back wall. She swayed her hips as she walked and bent over more than necessary to give Henry a good view of her nicely rounded backside. All the while she kept up the conversation. “What brings a fine gentleman like yourself to our ’umble pub?”
“I arrived this afternoon, and my manservant recommended the Red Lion. He said the barmaids were especially pretty here, and I must say he was right.” She smiled brightly and blushed at the compliment, and when she placed his tankard before him, Henry slid a silver crown toward her. “Keep the rest for yourself.”
Still smiling, she batted her eyelashes and bobbed a quick curtsy, then, using two fingers to highlight the act, she placed the coin inside her bodice, right between her breasts.
Grinning, Henry allowed his eyes to follow the coin and leaned forward to see more of her breasts, then raised his tankard at the same time she did. The pleasant bitterness of the ale lingered on his tongue, just as her eyes lingered on him. The girl knew how to flirt, and if she was as good between the sheets, this encounter promised to be enjoyable as well as informative.
“What’s your name?”
She bit her lip and sent him a smoldering look. “Mary. And what’ll I call ya?”
Watching her over the rim of his tankard, he took another sip from his ale. “Henry.”
She leaned across the bar and dropped her voice to barely above a whisper so he had to come closer to hear her over the noise in the pub. “Well, ’enry, it’s very nice to meet ya, but I’ve gotta serve that table over there.” She indicated the card table where a man was trying to get her attention.
Henry grinned at her antics. “I’ll watch you work, then.”
She laughed, and as she turned to go see to her other customers, she threw over her shoulder, “I like a man’s eyes on me.” Then she sashayed across the room with an extra little swing in her hip, just for him.
Henry followed her with his eyes and wondered how long it would take him to get an invitation to her room. He itched to find out more about the Earl of Warthon and his proclivities, but the pub was full of locals, and two strangers asking questions about the earl two nights in a row would get reported back.
Henry made sure to wink at Mary the first time she looked back at him, then he let his eyes wander over the other clientele. There were several who had noticed his flirtation, and while most just seemed to be amused, a dark-haired young man sitting farther along the bar eyed him with some speculation. When Mary returned to the bar to fill her tankards, the dark-haired gent waved her over and said a few hushed words to her. She stiffened and hissed a response. Most of it was too low for Henry to hear, but the last words did carry to him.
“ … tell ’im I talk to whoever I want.” Then she turned to Henry, eyes still flashing with anger, and gifted him with a brilliant smile before she took her tray of tankards to the card table. The young man sighed, drained his ale, and made his way to the door with the air of a man who had done what he could.
The episode could have been about something completely unrelated, but Henry didn’t think so. The next time Mary came back to the bar, he inquired, “Was that young man bothering you?”
Mary touched his arm and smiled. “Ain’t you a lovely man.” Then she took his empty tankard, refilled it, and set it back before him. “He works at Warthon Castle. The horny old goat of an earl up there doesn’t like me talkin’ about ’im.”
This was confirmation. If someone was trying to silence her, then her story was true and there was most likely more to it than she knew. For her benefit, however, he made light of it with a laugh and a dismissive gesture. “Titled horny old goats tend to hate tales about their misdeeds. Trust me, I know, I have a couple in the family.”
She laughed with relief and touched his hand again. But the young man’s visit had made her nervous; she sent a furtive glance around the room and lowered her voice before she spoke. “We’ll be callin’ last orders soon. Stay behind and I’ll tell you all about the old goat, if you like.”
Beckoning her closer, Henry whispered in her ear, “I would love to spend a little time in private with you, whether you tell me about the old goat or not.”
The girl blushed very prettily and giggled. “Oh, ain’t you forward.”
Henry sat at the bar for the next half hour, watching her hand out the last drinks and clear away tankards, while the landlord settled up for the night and then went to extinguish the lanterns outside. The other girl was helping in the kitchen, leaving Henry alone with Mary, so the next time Mary walked past, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. “When will you be done with your cleaning, fair Mary? I’m anxious to continue our conversation.”
She felt soft and warm, and smelled gloriously of woman.
Giggling, she let him kiss her before she pulled away. “Not ’ere. My room’s up the stairs right in back.”
Henry couldn’t help his triumphant grin. In this instance, he didn’t mind the mixing of business and pleasure one bit. “Hurry! I’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE WAS ONLY ONE DOOR AT THE TOP OF THE stairs, so Henry entered the modest bedroom and made himself at home. He located a taper and matches on the small table by the window, lit the taper, and finding it rather warm right under the roof, he opened the window and took off his jacket. No light illuminated the backyard from downstairs, and the night lay quiet and still below. Henry guessed they were above the woodshed and was grateful for the privacy this afforded.
He lit a cheroot and looked forward to kissing Mary again.
Before long, she entered with a smile, pulled off her cap, and took the pins out of her hair. Shaking out her golden curls, she sashayed closer to Henry, who watched her with appreciative eyes and patted his knees. When she was right in front of him, Henry put his hands on either side of her waist as she rucked up her skirts and straddled him.
Tapping her lips with her index finger, Mary directed considering eyes to the ceiling, looking like a naughty cherub. “Where were we? Horny old goats, was it?”
Henry laughed out loud. “Am I to be counted among them?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Goodness no!
You’re a manly man, nothing of the old goat in you … yet.”
Loving her cheeky antics, Henry pulled her close to kiss her soft, eager lips. He enjoyed the fullness of her breasts against his chest and the heat of her groin over his, but before he could get carried away, he pulled back and chuckled. “All right, tell me about the titled horny old goat.”
She threw back her head and laughed, exposing her throat, so Henry had to trail kisses up it and make her purr.
“Mmm, that feels good. The old earl got some strange ideas, all right, and ’is friends are no better.”
“Oh, a horny old goat with friends! This gets better and better.” Henry kissed the tops of her breasts where they pushed up over her bodice and let his tongue trace the valley between them.
Mary groaned with pleasure and raised herself a little to give him better access. “You’ve no idea. Five years I worked at the castle, was maybe thirteen when I started as a tweeny.”
Her voice was breathy now, but she continued her story in between placing kisses all over his face. “Maybe a year ago I started goin’ with a footman at the castle. He’s one of the men who carry the earl about in ’is sedan chair when ’e goes out. He told me the earl liked to watch and pays well. My da ’ad just died and I wanted to put a nice marker on ’is grave, so I said yes.”
Henry was busy undoing the laces on her bodice, but his attention was firmly on her story. “Do you still have family in the area?”
She sighed and leaned into his embrace. “Only me mum. Anyway, we did it a few times, but the earl likes it rough. He kept asking for things I didn’t like, and when ’e started to invite the reverend from Hove to watch with him, it got really strange.” She gave a little dramatic shudder, but it didn’t stop her from helping Henry to take her dress off and push his waistcoat off his shoulders.
“He wanted to join in, and that’s when I said enough’s enough.”
Henry brushed her hair out of her face as she opened the buttons on his shirt. “The reverend from Hove, you say? That’s very strange. I would’ve expected more decorum from a churchman.”
She giggled. “Them are the worst.”
He chuckled along with her. “I suppose you’re right.”
She pulled his shirt out of his waistband and over his head. “Anyway, Edgar enjoyed draggin’ me around by the ’air way too much. I like a ’ard fuck every now and then, but every time?”
Henry nodded thoughtfully. “I prefer a nice slow ride that builds in intensity.”
“That’s the ticket!” She rewarded him with a kiss and rubbed her now-naked breasts against his chest. “The last straw was the preacher sayin’ it didn’t look like a real rape, and he’d show Edgar ’ow it’s done.”
Henry halted kissing her neck and looked into her eyes, worried she had suffered through an actual rape. “Jesus, that’s taking the role-playing much too far.”
She shrugged. “That’s what I thought. I ran out of the room and didn’t stop till I was in the housekeeper’s room and askin’ for me last week’s wages. She got all huffy ’cause there were guests coming the next day. Me leaving was gonna leave ’er shorthanded. Then the earl sent word through Edgar I wouldn’t get a dime out of ’im either, so I left and started tellin’ tales.”
She looked up from playing with Henry’s nipples, the light of determination shining clearly in her eyes. She’d been treated badly and she would make them pay. “The earl’s grandson knows ’im well enough to know I’m not makin’ it up, and ’e won’t want me to keep tellin’ them tales ’cause ’e’s got them meetin’s out at the abbey. He’ll pay me soon enough.” She nodded for emphasis and returned to laving his nipples with her tongue.
Henry wanted to know more about the meetings. “Naughty clergy and clandestine gatherings in an abbey! Sounds like a gothic novel.”
Mary grinned conspiratorially. “It’s all ’ush ’ush and the abbey’s been abandoned for ages.” She didn’t elaborate any further, which made Henry think she didn’t actually know much about the meetings, so he dropped the subject and busied himself with taking her petticoats off. She was prettily made and responsive to his touch. He wasn’t going to let an opportunity like that go to waste, so he divested her of all her clothing and stood with her in his arms.
She let out a little shriek when he first stood, but then laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Getting impatient, are you?”
Henry carried her to the bed, chuckling. “Time to get more comfortable, love. These pantaloons of mine are far too tight now.”
She sing-songed, “I bet I know why.”
Henry dropped her on the bed and retrieved the silk pouch with his French letter from his pocket while Mary busied herself with his placket. He sighed with relief when she pushed his pants off his hips and his erection sprung free.
Taking hold of Henry’s member, she studied it before rubbing it up and down and smiling up at him. “That’s quite the cock you ’ave.”
Gathering her hair at the back of her head, he grinned down at her. She took the hint and bent to suck the head of his cock into her mouth, making Henry hiss with pleasure. He gently pumped himself a little further down her throat. “That feels so good.”
She took a little more of him and hummed around his cock, until he had to stop her so he wouldn’t come in her mouth. He took out the French letter, pulled it on and fastened the string around the base of his penis. The restriction the string created was the one thing he liked about wearing the damnable things, but worrying about the pox wasn’t Henry’s idea of a good time.
Mary lay back with a smile. “A French letter! You really are a gentleman.”
Henry knelt between her legs, braced himself with one hand beside her right shoulder, and stroked her sex with the other. Finding her already wet, he positioned himself at her entrance and rubbed his nose along hers until his lips hovered right above her mouth. “Always.”
She hummed her agreement and wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him closer. Kissing her, he swallowed the lovely noise she made when he pushed inside her with enough force to make her cry out.
She felt good around him, even through the French letter. Henry lost himself in the sheer sensuality of skin against slick skin, in the smells and sounds of passion. It was good to feel alive in this way again, even with a near stranger. He found his climax, but kept going long enough for Mary to find hers and then collapsed on the bed next to her. Cuddling into him, she closed her eyes with a contented sigh.
Henry let her rest for a minute before he asked the question festering in his mind. “What makes you think there are gatherings at the abbey?”
Mary’s tongue was further loosened by sleepiness. “Great big dinner parties with all the guests stayin’ the night, and all the guests are men except for the few ladies of the night they bring in from God knows where. No one’s supposed to know they’re there. I figured it out, though.” She stretched with a self-satisfied smile. “It’s the young lord bringin’ them, I know. Well, at least it is since the really scary one stopped comin’ about three years ago.”
Henry digested that for a moment. A really scary man who stopped coming three years ago. He wondered if it was coincidence or if Astor had been to the castle. Had he arranged sexual displays for those meetings, and had the earl’s grandson taken over after Astor’s death? But when he turned to Mary to ask her whether she knew the man’s name, she was fast asleep.
Henry knew the girl was playing with fire and wanted to let her know what he suspected she had gotten mixed up in, but William was right, her mouth had already gotten her into trouble and he needed to keep a low profile to investigate further. Besides, the damage was most likely done already, judging by the way she baited the earl and his grandson. One thing was for sure: it was not a good idea for them to be seen together again. William would have to keep an eye on the fair Mary.
Henry left a few coins on Mary’s bedside table, enough for the post coach out of trouble should she need to leave town. Then
he scanned the dark yard below before he climbed out the window. The stairs would have been more comfortable than the drainpipe, but it was best no one saw him leave Mary’s room.
THE NEXT MORNING HENRY WOKE to the smell of coffee wafting in from the sitting room. Having no patience for crumbs in bed, Henry belted his dressing gown and followed his nose to the coffee pot.
Breakfast was set up on a little table by the window overlooking the glistening sea. William greeted cheerfully, “Good mornin’, sir! I ’ope you slept well enough with them waves makin’ a racket all night long.”
Henry good-naturedly slapped his old comrade’s shoulder. “Says the man who grew up right in the middle of Spitalfields Market.”
William sighed. “I never got used to that racket neither.”
“Or the din of battle, for that matter.”
William shook his head and pulled out a chair for Henry to sit. “Not ’ealthy for a man to get used to the sound of people dyin’.”
“And yet most did.” Henry gestured to the other chair and filled a second cup with coffee. “Sit and tell me what you found out on your rounds last night.”
William folded his large frame onto the somewhat dainty chair and ladled three heaped spoonfuls of sugar into his cup, but declined the cream.
“Seems both girls are young and pretty, and both were sent to London, where they’re supposed to be workin’ for a friend of the earl’s grandson and heir, Lord Didcomb. Lord Didcomb paid for the girls’ stage tickets to London, or so the locals think, ’cause their families are poor and the girls both went on the stage.”
Henry catalogued all these facts, but the pertinent piece of information still seemed to be missing.
“How old were the girls when they went? Did they work for the earl? When did they go and what do they look like; any common features?”
The Gentleman's Daughter Page 5