by Kathryn Moon
A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor
Tempting Monsters, Book One
Kathryn Moon
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright @ 2021 Kathryn Moon
A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor, Tempting Monsters Book One
First publication: March 23rd 2021
Cover art by Jodielocks Designs
Editing by Bookish Dreams Editing
Formatting by Kathryn Moon
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kathryn Moon
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For my fellow thirsty monster-lovers whether you rank a 1 or a 6 on the scale!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Kathryn Moon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
“Esther! We can't stay," Delilah hissed, tugging roughly on my elbow.
I yanked it from her grasp, hushing her in answer and waving my hands in her direction. "You go," I mouthed, warmth flooding my cheeks as another drawn out moan echoed out of Mrs. Pickering's private sitting room.
Delilah didn't know what that moan signified, but I did. It was buried beneath the strange, mechanical buzzing, and the occasional murmured question of the young doctor, but it was there all the same. Pleasure. I'd made a few of those moans in my life, but not nearly as regularly as Mrs. Pickering did when she was alone in her sitting room with Dr. Underwood.
The younger maid huffed and then raced away through the hall to the staff stairs, leaving me alone with only the sounds from the room for company.
Dr. Underwood was a tall man with broad shoulders and trim hips. He was young for a doctor, I thought, and very handsome, and he saw exclusively women so I imagined he must've been quite popular. We housemaids giggled whenever we saw him arrive. It meant the lady of the house, Mrs. Pickering, was having ‘nervous complaints’ again and he had come to tend to her. This wasn't the first time I'd snuck to her door to listen to the great buzzing sound that came from inside and all her little squeaks and sighs. There were never any sounds like that from the doctor, only calm questions, so I knew whatever was going on inside was a one-sided affair. I knew what men sounded like while they were seeing to their own enjoyment.
I bit my lip and leaned against the wall in the hallway, my eyes flicking back and forth to either end as my body throbbed in time with Mrs. Pickering's little hiccuping sounds as if they were my own. Oh, what I would've given to know what the doctor was doing. To have it done to me!
My hands were twisting at the waistband of my apron but one traveled slowly south, lips parting in a faint mimic of what my mistress must've been doing, as I pressed over the place where I ached most.
"Oh, lord!" Mrs. Pickering cried out from inside, and the buzzing sound dulled a little as she began to steadily gasp.
I was rubbing myself urgently, the sensation dulled through my skirts when the buzzing became a roar and Dr. Underwood appeared suddenly from the parlor, pink-cheeked but tidy, the door slightly parted.
I let out an awkward cross between a moan and a squeak of a surprise as the young doctor's cheeks turned darker. I stumbled upright and dropped into a low curtsy, twisting my hands behind my back, my heart flying in my chest. I’d never imagined that he or Mrs. Pickering might be able to leave the room. I may have been wanton, but I wasn’t stupid. Well…apparently I was, a little.
“I—we, um, your lady…needs some water,” Dr. Underwood whispered, eyes moving quickly between my skirts and my face and the ceiling. “You’d better go before she recovers,” he added in a rush.
My breath hitched, and I nodded quickly, running past the man as I headed for the staff stairs. Dr. Underwood's eyes watched me, a little smile quirking on his lips as the parlor door snapped shut.
Delilah was down in the kitchens, putting together a tea tray when I arrived, and her lips parted, eyes flicking around the busy activity of the kitchens. I knew she wanted to quiz me on what I heard, but we were under the watchful eye of Cook and we'd get our knuckles rapped for talking about the family in such a way.
"Mistress needs water," I called to Delilah, hurrying for the back door to the yard. And to the stables.
"And where do you think you're going, Esther Reed?" Cook snapped.
"I've a message for Parks from Mr. Pickering," I lied, dashing for the door.
I made it there before Cook could move her ample form fast enough to catch me, but not before I heard, "That young woman will come to no good."
I'd heard as much for years now. Ever since I was a little girl who smiled too readily at handsome strangers. I'd lost jobs because of it.
But I couldn't help myself.
Davey Parks grinned at me as I marched for the opening of the small carriage house. "Hey there, Est—" His words died abruptly as I grabbed for his belt and dragged him into an empty stall at the back.
"How fast can you get hard?" I gasped out, turning and bending, my body throbbing at the memory of the gentle doctor's lopsided smile.
Chapter One
Dr. Underwood & Mr. Tanner
I'd always liked to watch Dr. Underwood. Nearly gotten myself into a fair bit of trouble for it over my two years of service with the Pickerings too. But there was something about the man. I felt a kind of kinship to him. I was not what I ought to have been—not quiet enough, not selfless enough, not appropriate. And though I couldn't say why, I thought the same might've been true of Dr. Underwood.
I leaned in the shadows of the service hall and watched him and the other fine gentlemen and ladies who came to the house to shop and gossip about the family's misfortune. He wandered the house, not looking for Mrs. Pickering, but I suspected to pick out which of the fixtures and goods he’d like to buy when it all went up for auction. I couldn’t
get fired for impertinence when I was already being let go in just a few more days.
I should have known a position as nice as this one wouldn’t last, one where I had a room and good meals. A girl like me, who couldn’t keep her skirts on straight when there were handsome lads about and had already been released from one service job for her habits.
As it turned out, Mr. Pickering had his own weaknesses too, and the game of speculation had lost him his trade money. Now they were selling off the grand house and releasing their staff in the hopes of scrounging up what little was left. They’d given us all good references in exchange, but I’d yet to find any position. Certainly not one as nice.
Dr. Underwood paused in the entry hall, looking up at the grand staircase before turning in place and striding across the tiles to the hall where I was spying. I was expecting him to stop and examine one of the sideboards or a work of art, so I was still staring dumbly at him as he ducked into the staff hallway.
I curtseyed, a little too late and gracelessly, and he blushed, bobbing nervously in front of me.
“Are you lost, sir? There’s nothing much back here to see,” I said. “And less up for sale.”
His hands were twisting in front of him, a handkerchief winding around his finger and crumpling in his fist. His clothes were fine and beautifully tailored to his elegant frame, but he moved in them as though he were looking for an escape route.
“Ah, I was—Actually, I came to see you…but I-I haven’t learned your name, Miss…”
I stood up straight at that, even as he bobbed forward again, full lips pursing.
“Esther Reed, sir,” I said.
And then I held my breath and waited for him to speak. Would he offer me a position? Had the Pickerings recommended me? If they had, then they clearly hadn’t been paying attention to my habits. Dr. Underwood was just the type of handsome man I found myself in trouble with too often—although not usually with a gentleman as important as him.
When he took too long to speak, checking over his shoulders and around mine to see if anyone was listening, I spoke for him.
“Is it a position, sir? Are you in need of a housemaid?” I asked.
He coughed and smiled. “No I-I have one of those and she’s…not so charming, certainly. But perhaps a little less nosy too,” he said. It was my turn to blush, thinking of him catching me in the hall during his appointment with my lady all those months ago. “It’s, um…a delicate kind of…and if I might offend, please say so, but—”
I stepped closer, the heat burning on my cheeks mirroring the red on his that turned his freckles another shade darker.
“Are you in need of a mistress, sir?” I whispered.
I was not offended in the least by the suggestion, although I wasn’t sure I was nearly fine enough for that sort of thing. It might be below a young lady's station, but I wasn't really a lady. I didn't even have a proper talent like an actress or an opera singer, or the other kinds of women who men purchased nice things for—fancy houses and dresses and jewels, and all that sort of thing.
Dr. Underwood’s smile relaxed at my question, and he looked almost boyish, although I knew by the hint of gray at his temples he was older than I was.
“It’s not quite that,” he said, checking the hall around us again. But I knew that the other maids were busy with washing and drying the linens—exactly where I was meant to be—and the kitchen staff was already trying to scrounge a meal together with the little that was left.
He stepped closer until I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. He had a gentle face with high cheekbones and lips for kissing, and I thought if he took one step closer, I could either lean into him or fall back against the wall and let him corner me. I liked that game when it was with a nice fellow.
“There is a house I…patron. The girls who live there are well cared for and treated kindly.” And with that, his eyebrows, the same reddish-brown as his short hair, waggled up.
“And would I be a maid or…?”
“If you wanted,” he said, brow furrowing. “But there might be other…employment you would enjoy more.” Then he did step in again, and there was a whiff of tobacco on his jacket and the soft blue of his eyes hardened a little. But his smile was sweet when I didn’t step back and our chests brushed together. He bent his head and whispered in my ear, “Work for a girl who can’t keep her hands off herself in a hallway where anyone could see her.”
“What makes the great buzzing sound?” I asked, staring up at him.
He grinned, and the affable, nervous doctor returned. “I could show you, if you like. And I’d rather tell you more about the manor in private. Would you come to my practice on Harley Street? I’ll stay late this evening.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, watching a flash of eerie green flicker in his gaze.
I arrived after dark that evening. Dr. Underwood answered the door himself, and there was no one else in the office. I felt very small in the hall as he closed the door behind me. Dark paneled wood stretched up above my head, and a lamp glowed golden on a side table next to me. The door latched shut and the lock tumbled, the clank echoing in the open hall and drawing a shiver down my spine.
“Ms. Reed, if you are at all uncomfortable—” Dr. Underwood started, taking a step back to give me room.
“It’s not that,” I rushed to say, spinning and nearly bumping my nose into his. His eyes were a very pretty blue, I noticed, and I dismissed the distracted thought. “I just don’t usually…plan this sort of thing.”
He blinked at that, eyes growing wide, and I laughed and looked down to the floor, shaking my head. “Oh it’s happened, loads more than it ought to have. But I never talked it over with the gent before and had to think about how it might go all day and then all evening.”
Dr. Underwood smiled, freckled cheeks dimpling. “Ah, anticipation,” he said. “Yes, I’ve suffered from it today as well. Come.”
His hand landed on my back underneath my shawl, and while his fingers were gentle, I had to resist another shiver at their urging touch. He led me past a receptionist’s office, down the hall, and into a richly furnished room lined with bookshelves and an enormous fireplace with a roaring blaze already started. It was chilly outside, but Dr. Underwood’s office was burning hot and I pulled my shawl off my shoulders straightaway.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t think you’d want to be cold,” he said, glancing between the fire and me.
“Did you think about it often, sir?” I asked, the question coming unbidden, but I'd never made much of an effort in life to stop my mouth. His brow furrowed, so I added, “About me, sir. Bringing me here?”
He might have blamed the fire for the flush in his cheeks, but I wasn’t sure what caused that shift of color in his eyes again, from sky blue to a strangely vivid green.
“Many times,” he said, and his voice shifted too, the rough edge of a growl appearing. I would have said he hadn’t seemed the growling sort if it weren’t for the fact he was doing it so well at the moment.
My legs squirmed beneath my skirt, thighs pressing together as I tipped my head back to stare up at him. “And what did we do when you thought of us together?” I asked, biting at my lip to tame my grin.
His chest was rising faster and the green in his eyes was brightening. “Exactly what we will do tonight. Now if you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Reed, I’d like you to undress while I set up.”
My hands automatically rose up to the buttons of my blouse at the request. “Will you watch, sir?”
The green faded, and he blushed a little deeper, looking down to the floor as his own grin bloomed. “There’s a screen by the fire. Change and leave your clothes there. I’m afraid I might find you too distracting.”
That declaration put a bounce in my step. Especially when I realized that the screen in front of the fire would create a lovely play of shadows for the doctor while I undressed. I made sure to twist and bend as much as possible as I stripped off all my layers. I didn’t mind him being
a little distracted. When I was bent at the waist, rolling down my stockings with an exaggerated kind of slowness, there was a sudden, noisy, buzzing from the other side of the screen. I thought I heard a little huff of laughter as I tipped awkwardly to the side, bumping against the screen.
When I came out from behind the screen, the heat of the fire still bright on my skin, Dr. Underwood had his back to me. The shape of his silhouette was enormous and distorted over the stretch of bookshelves around the room, taking his slim form and turning it into something monstrous. I watched my own shadow creeping up to his, but it never seemed to reach the same gigantic presence on the wall.
“Where would you like me, sir?” I liked calling him that, liked that he hadn’t offered his first name. Most gentlemen liked to have you say their names before they flipped your skirts up, as if it might trick you into thinking you were important enough to know it without getting diddled.
Dr. Underwood turned and looked at me for a long time, eyes skimming down over my breasts. I shifted my legs, parting them, and his gaze stopped there. He was holding a strange instrument, with a black handle and a round metal head that had an extension stretching out from it, a red rubber bulb pointed in my direction. That must have been what always had Mrs. Pickering squealing and sighing.
Maybe he would want me on his desk, although I was hoping for a nice soft surface to relax in. I waited until he’d had his fill and looked back up at my face, the green bright in his eyes again and the angles of his face sharper.