Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (read this if .txt) 📕

complacent smile on her lips and said to Sir William Filey, “Nothing in particular, my lord. It appears though that the gentlemen are more fond of drink tonight than the pleasures my lovely girls offer.” Sir William gave her pause. Although he was always polite to her in that slightly mocking manner of his, she knew there was a deep streak of cruelty in him. Even though it was never directed at her, she was afraid of him.

He laughed softly and she found herself shivering at the sound. “Don’t worry, Angelique, I shall myself lead the gentlemen upstairs where they belong.” He proffered her a mocking bow, turned, and said over his shoulder, “My thanks for the young French girl, Marie. A tidy morsel, my dear, exactly to my tastes. So young and so very untouched. Not now, of course, ah, but I enjoyed her whilst I taught her her trade. I congratulate you, Angelique, upon your means of procurement.”

Lady Buxtell offered a silent prayer that the foolish, whining Marie had learned her lessons well. Not, of course, that she begrudged the time she had spent with the girl, cursing and threatening her each time she seemed to rebel against the description of what Sir William would require of her. If nothing else, Sir William was most generous when he was pleased. She looked after Sir William as he made his way back to Marie. Despite the habitual sneer that marred the line of his full mouth, he was a handsome man, not above forty. He showed to advantage in his tight-knitted pantaloons and his coats had no need of buckram padding. She had heard that by the time he had reached thirty-five, he had already buried two wives. She thought about these two faceless ladies and decided it was probably fortunate for them that they had passed to the hereafter. A night spent in Sir William’s bed was not an experience that any of her girls relished. Just imagine how those prudish, simpering innocent young ladies had reacted to his demands. Well, it was none of her affair. She did wonder, though, about the rumor that had recently come to her ears. It seemed that Sir William was casting about for another wife a very rich one in all probability. Lady Buxtell shrugged and took a glass of champagne from a passing footman.

Hetty, in the meanwhile, followed closely after Mavreen, with what she prayed was a convincing display of male eagerness. They passed down a long, thickly carpeted corridor, Mavreen finally drawing to a halt in front of a closed door. Hetty pushed the knob and preceded Mavreen into a small room furnished almost entirely in dark blue velvet. Exotic pictures showed in blatant detail various positions. Goodness, some of those positions looked remarkably difficult and all of them were embarrassing. As for the pictures of the men, they looked ridiculous, all hair and muscle and their sex sticking out. She looked toward the four-poster bed in the center of the room and felt her heart jump into her throat. At that moment, Mavreen leaned heavily against Hetty and threw her arms about her shoulders. Hetty quickly thrust her away, an instinctive reaction, for she couldn’t trust her tightly laced chemise to completely flatten her breasts. A look of dismay and consternation settled upon Mavreen’s face. Hetty thought quickly, knowing that at the very least, she mustn’t give Mavreen any reason to think that she didn’t appreciate her woman’s charms. She took the girl’s hands in her own and lifted them to her lips, slowly kissing each slender white finger. “You are exquisite, Mavreen.” She forced herself to look at the girl’s gently sloping shoulders, and then down to the fullness of her breasts. Her waist was small, an asset, Hetty supposed.

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” Mavreen said, her voice breathless and filled with relief. She dared not think what would have happened to her if she failed to please Lord Monteith. “Would you like me to disrobe now?”

Hetty pretended to ponder Mavreen’s question. Lord, the last thing she wanted was to have a naked girl standing in front of her. She tried to determine exactly what a man would say and do. As the answer was an obvious one, she was forced to charter new ground. She replied casually, “No, I think not now, Mavreen. Actually, I would know more about you, and why you are afraid of Lady Buxtell.”

Oh God, Mavreen thought wildly, he wasn’t a customer. He must be one of her spies. “Oh, my lord, she is really a very kind mistress. She most kindly took me in when I would have starved in the streets.”

“I doubt that. You’re terrified of her. You may trust me, you know.”

“I don’t know what you mean, my lord.” She saw a gleam of anger narrow Lord Monteith’s dark blue eyes. “I’m being stupid. Let me undress you, my lord. Shall I take you in my mouth? Shall I fondle you with my hands?”

“No,” Hetty said. “You may tell me if you’re a trollop.”

“Oh God, I’m not, I swear it. I was a virgin, my lord. It is true that she pulled me from the street, but it wasn’t my fault that I was there. After word came that my Uncle Bob was dead, the creditors came to our milliner shop and all but threw me out. I had no money and no family I could go to. She told me that I was very lucky, that I would be deflowered by a handsome lord. It was Sir William Filey.” She gazed helplessly up at Lord Monteith. “It was awful. He hurt me horribly. He was worse than the others. Some of them were even nice to me, petting me like I was a dog or something if I managed to please them.”

Through a haze of unshed tears, Mavreen realized that she had disgraced herself. Lady Buxtell would be informed that she was unworthy of her protection. She would