The Hellions
By Elizabeth Kelley
Copyright 2010 by Elizabeth Kelley and Blushing Books
The Hellions
Published by Blushing Books Publications at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 by Blushing Books and Elizabeth Kelley
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Prologue
They met, as always, under cover of darkness in the deepest part of the night. Anyone stirring at this hour was surely up to mischief and they were no exception. They had been meeting like this each month for the past four years. Tonight, however, would be their final meeting. A half dozen young ladies, dressed for bed in nightrails and robes, made their way silently up the attic stairs. As each girl arrived at the meeting place, she placed a folded piece of paper into a golden bowl that was set in the center of a rather faded oriental carpet and then quietly took her customary place in the circle. When the circle was complete, the girls joined hands and looked expectantly toward their leader.
Lady Isabella Fitzwarren looked back at her companions with satisfaction and a touch of sadness. All were in their final year at Miss Markham's School of Feminine Deportment and Decorum. They had been drawn together during their first year by their mutual disgust with the outmoded ideas and mores on which Miss Markham based the school 'curriculum.' The Hellions Club had begun a few weeks into the first sememster. At first, it was simply a way to flout the rules by sneaking around at night, but it quickly evolved into much more.
Loosely based on the little bit they knew about the Hellfire Club, an infamous gentlemen's club from the past century, the Hellion's mission was to pursue a 'gentleman's education.' Not satisfied with the pap Miss Markham and her ilk were feeding them, the Hellions sought to expand their horizons with the types of experiences from which the males in their lives were forever trying to protect them. Over the years, the girls had swilled brandy, puffed on cigars, sneezed their way through a box full of snuff and even sipped a bit of laudanum. Their adventures were not confined to indoor activities either. They had attended a bear baiting, a cockfight and a horse race. One of the girls had filched a pair of dueling pistols from her father's study and all six had become satisfactory markswomen. They had explored new worlds through books on everything from philosophy to medicine to erotica. Books on ancient statues and a set of rather explicit French postcards (this time filched from an older brother) were studied most carefully.
Each of the girls in the club had contributed something to the curriculum and all of them felt that they had done their best over the past four years to insure themselves of a well-rounded education. Now, however, their graduation was near. This was the last time they would meet before returning to their families for the summer. In the fall, they would go to London for the Season. All of them would have their come out balls and presentation at Court. Then it was on to the Marriage Mart.
They had agreed at their last meeting that they should end their days as Hellions with one more truly spectacular event. To this end, they had decided on a 'final adventure' for each girl to arrange and carry out independently. They were to complete their assignments over the summer and then they would all report back to the others when they met in London in the autumn. Each girl had contributed an idea to the golden bowl and each would pick her assignment at random before leaving tonight. They would not discuss the assignments with the other until their meeting in London.
Isabella spoke at last, 'Welcome, my sisters, to the final meeting of the Hellion Society. Let's start with our pledge.'
The girls spoke together, 'We will be our own women. We will not accept the limits others place upon us but will do as we choose. We will always support each other in our quest to live freely. Above all, we will never be ordinary.'
'Excellent, sisters. Now let's begin. Mary Alice, did you bring the wine?'
'Yes, Bella. Here it is.' Mary Alice began pouring dark claret into glasses and passing them to the other girls in the circle.
When everyone had a glass, Isabella lifted her glass in a toast, 'To my dearest sisters. May we all have a most excellent adventure.'
Glasses clinked and there were murmurs of, 'hear, hear' and 'cheers.'
Finally, Isabella said quietly, 'Clarissa, the bowl if you please.'
Clarissa picked up the golden bowl took out a slip of paper and passed it to the girl on her right. The bowl went quickly around the circle and soon each girl had her assignment. They finished the claret quickly, gave each other hugs, rolled up the rug and made their way quietly back downstairs to their rooms. Each girl was anxious to discover what her fate would be.
Lucinda Sinclair was the last to leave the attic. She had had so many happy times here with these girls that it was difficult to let go. Endings are always hard, she mused. Of course, in her hand she held a new beginning. With a sense of excitement and some trepidation, she opened the paper and read with stunned disbelief and mounting horror:
'HOLD UP AND ROB A CARRIAGE TRAVELLING ON THE KING'S HIGHWAY.'
'Oh, Lord.'
Book One
The
Adventures
Chapter
One
Lucinda's Turn
'Stand and Deliver!'
Sir Henry Brisbane, seventh Earl of Dunkirk, was roused from his half dozing state by the shouted command. The carriage began to slow immediately. His coachman had strict orders regarding these circumstances--he was not to resist. Harry always carried two loaded pistols inside the carriage with him and he was an excellent shot. He would take care of anyone who tried to accost him. He did not want his servants putting themselves at risk for him as he considered it his duty to protect them. While this had caused a few arguments with some of his long time servants, Harry was adamant and they reluctantly obeyed. In fact, in private, his servants had been known to boast about his prowess with pistols, swords and fists. It was a point of pride with them to serve such an able master.
As the coach slowed and finally stopped, Harry eased one of the pistols out of the door pocket and held it carefully on the seat alongside his leg. Truthfully, he was rather glad of the interruption. He had the devil's own hangover and his temper was on a short rein. It would be good to have an excuse to let it loose on a deserving target. He actually felt rather sorry for the poor sod trying to rob him. He would surely regret provoking the Earl's famous temper before this night's work was done. Harry glanced out of the window to see exactly what he was facing. There were two brigands, dressed as expected all in black with kerchiefs tied around their lower faces. Both were armed. One was hanging back in the trees by the side of the road so he could cover the entire scene with the long rifle he held in his hands. Harry noted that the rifle was shaking a bit, betraying nerves on the part of the highwayman. Harry had felt his outrider, Basil, leap off the back of the coach at the first shout. Since the brigands had not raised a cry, he was certain Basil's escape had gone undetected. Harry knew Basil would sneak around through the woods to come up on the rifle-toting highwayman from behind. Harry's servants were well trained and Harry was confident that Basil would wait to act until he had received a signal. Harry turned his attention to the second highwayman.
He held a pistol quite comfortably and pointed it directly at Harry as he rode toward the carriage. As he approached, Harry noted that he was rather small for a man and his movements were surprisingly graceful. He wondered if it was perhaps a boy pushed into this dangerous career out of some kind of desperate need. Despite his own need to relieve his temper, Harry was reluctant to kill a youngster. He would be happy to administer a beating, however, so he uncocked the pistol but kept it by his side for the moment.
The highwayman brought his horse alongside the carriage, 'Just hand over your money and your jewelry and no one will get hurt,' he stated in a low, husky voice.
Harry glanced into the highwayman's eyes. Bright sapphire blue eyes fringed with long black lashes and surrounded by pale unlined skin looked back at him. Definitely not a hardened criminal, Harry decided. As their gazes clashed and held, Harry found himself starting to drown in pools of deepest blue. Breaking eye contact with some difficulty, he had an even more startling thought. Perhaps his highwayman was in fact a highway woman. He glanced quickly at the one place men and women cannot hide their differences and confirmed his suspicion. The material covering the area between the brigand's legs was smooth and flat. Now Harry was more curious and angrier than ever. What on earth was a woman doing robbing coaches along the King's Highway?
Lucinda almost gasped when she saw the occupant of the coach. My God, it's Dunkirk, she thought in despair. Not only was he a neighbor, he was one of her brother's best friends! Well, there was nothing to be done now. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible. He wouldn't be able to see through her disguise, she told herself, and besides it had been years since they had seen each other between his years at Oxford and hers at Miss Markham's. Still, speed was definitely called for in this situation.
'Wot, are you deaf or just stupid?' she demanded belligerently, trying to put a bit more country and a lot more hardened criminal into her accent. 'I said, hand over your valuables and you'll be free to go. Unless you'd like me to put a bullet in you first.'
Harry's eyes narrowed, 'My valuables are in the boot. Shall I get out and fetch them for you?'
The narrowed eyes and even tone were a certain indicator of his rising temper, but Lucinda was too frantic to notice the warning signs. 'Yes, and be quick about it. I don't have all day, even if you do. And don't try any tricks. I won't hesitate to shoot you if you do.'
Harry took his time getting out of the carriage. He noted that Basil was in place just behind the other 'highwayman.' On the last step, he pretended to stumble and gave a wave to Basil. Before Lucinda could react, he had knocked the pistol out of her hand and jerked her off of her horse with an arm around her waist. Biting off a scream and struggling frantically, she looked to her maid, Mary, for help only to see her struggling in the arms of a footman. Realizing the futility of continuing to resist, Lucinda relaxed in his tight grasp.
'Now, Madame, we shall see what is really going on and you shall discover how little I like being threatened,' Harry murmured into Lucinda's ear as he hefted her onto his hip and began carrying her towards the woods where the others were still struggling. 'Tom,' he called over his shoulder to the coachman, 'pull the carriage off the road. I don't want anyone stopping until I get to the bottom of this.'
He returned his attention to the baggage in his arms, 'And I mean that quite literally, my dear. When I saw how young you were, I decided not to use the pistol in my carriage, but to teach you a lesson with a sound thrashing. Given your sex, of course, I can't use my fists on you, but I think a good hard spanking will suffice, don't you?' Harry drawled.
Inside, Lucinda wilted even more at the realization that she might have been killed, but the thought of a spanking had her renewing her struggles to escape. It was no use, however. Harry was tall and strong and determined to mete out an appropriate punishment to the naughty brigand. He nodded to Basil as he passed and gestured for him to follow them further into the woods. They walked about 30 yards and finally stopped at a small glen.
'Now,' Harry stated calmly, as he put Lucinda on her feet without letting go of her, 'who wants to tell me what the hell is going on? Why are two young ladies.' He shot a questioning glance at Basil who nodded, 'pretending to be highwaymen?'
Both girls remained silent, however, Harry did not miss the fact that Basil's young lady had looked to the one he was holding for direction and received a slight shake of the head. So, apparently he had the ringleader in his arms. He gave her a shake, 'I asked you a question, Madame, and I expect an answer now.'
'What do you think, genius?' Lucinda spat out boldly, if unwisely, 'Why does anyone rob a coach? We need the money.'
Harry narrowed his eyes again and looked at her carefully. The clothes the two were wearing, while obviously borrowed, were of the finest quality. 'No, I don't think so,' he decided. 'Maybe we'd better start at the beginning. Who are you?'
Again, both girls remained stubbornly silent. 'You can tell me now or you can tell me later,' he said silkily, 'but rest assured, you will tell me. Basil, I believe that this minx is responsible for tonight's mischief. I've already told her that she's earned herself a very sound spanking. As she doesn't want to talk yet, I'll believe I'll go ahead and administer it right now. I think that her friend deserves one as well for participating in such a harebrained scheme, but I''ll leave that to you to decide.'
'Aye, sir, I agree,' Basil stated quietly looking directly into his captive's brown eyes and ignoring the pleading look they were giving him, 'a spanking is definitely due to this one as well.'
'Then let's proceed with this onerous duty,' Harry quipped as the two men exchanged grins over the heads of their captives, both of whom had begun to struggle again. Harry spotted a fallen tree across the clearing. He dragged Lucinda across the glen, seated himself on the tree trunk and pulled her face down across his lap.
Lucinda was horrified to find herself in this undignified position, but became positively frantic when she felt Harry reach under her to unbutton her trousers. 'No, no, please,' she pleaded, but to no avail. She felt cool air across her bare buttocks as he jerked her trousers to her knees. She wasn't cold for long, however, as Harry immediately raised his palm and began spanking her with quick, sharp, steady smacks.
Meanwhile, Basil had propped one foot up on a nearby rock and flipped Mary over his raised knee. Her trousers were also quickly lowered and her spanking begun with a series of stinging slaps to her bare quivering cheeks.
For the next few minutes, the only sound in the clearing was the rhythmic slapping sounds of two male palms landing hard on two female bottoms. Lucinda was still writhing and twisting across Harry's lap in a futile attempt to escape the burning smacks. Mary, however, was lying quietly across Basil's bent knee, kicking reflexively at each painful blow, but otherwise accepting her punishment with as much grace as possible under the circumstances.
After about five minutes of steady spanking, the unfortunate ladies were finding it impossible to remain quiet. Lucinda was the first to break, 'Oh, oh no!, ow!, ow!, ow!, please stop!, please, oh please!, ' she begged, again to no avail. If anything, Harry began spanking her harder, increasing both the speed and intensity of his smacks. 'Oh, please, sir...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll tell you everything, only please, please stop.'
Harry smiled grimly as he looked down at the rosy red bottom he was spanking so soundly. He had done a very thorough job thus far. Not one bit of her writhing cheeks had been spared the attentions of his hard palm. He began to concentrate his smacks on the bottom curves of her round cheeks, just where they met her thighs. 'Yes, I know you're sorry and I know you'll tell me everything,' he crooned, 'just as soon as we're finished. But we're not there yet, not even close.' At this, Lucinda slumped defeated over his lap and began to cry. Big sobs shook her whole body.
Mary had been crying quietly almost from the start. She was mortified to find herself in bare bottomed over a stranger's knee. As her spanking continued without pause, however, her embarrassment gave way to a frantic need to escape from the burning smacks raining down on her tender bottom. Basil smiled in satisfaction when Mary finally began to cry out, 'Please, sir...Please, stop...I beg you...Oh, oh, please!' This was his signal to begin the finale. His hand was almost a blur as it landed over and over on her sore backside. Her bottom was red from the top of her cheeks to the middle of her thighs before he stopped with a final loud smack. He slid her off his bent knee and watched with unconcealed amusement as she clapped her hands to her bare cheeks bouncing up and down and wailing loudly. After a few minutes, he gently pulled her trousers up and put a friendly arm around her shoulders.
Lucinda's spanking was just winding down. Her bottom was a very dark red and a bit swollen. Harry had slowed the tempo of his smacks. Now he was administering hard and deliberate slaps designed to drive home the points he was making. 'What on earth were you thinking?' SLAP! 'Do you know how dangerous this game can be?' SLAP! 'What if the King's dragoons had come along?' SLAP! 'You might have been killed.' SLAP! 'No one points a gun at me and comes away unscathed.' SLAP! And finally, 'Who are you?' SLAP! 'Who.' SLAP! 'Are.' SLAP! 'You?' SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Even if she wanted to, Lucinda couldn't have spoken. She was crying so hard, she was having trouble catching her breath. Harry knew it was time to stop. She was now a very well punished girl. He rested his hand on her hot, swollen bottom and gave her a few minutes to regain control before he continued his questions.
Her bottom on fire, Lucinda lay quietly across Harry's lap taking deep and shuddering breaths. Her thoughts were frantic. Uppermost in her mind was the incredible pain she was experiencing. A close second, however, was how on earth she would keep her identity a secret. She simply could not let Harry recognize her. After a while, it seemed that Harry's attention was wandering as he patted her bottom absently. Lucinda realized that she needed to act quickly.
Suddenly, she rolled off Harry's lap, landing with a thump and a squeal on her very sore bottom. As Harry reached down for her, Lucinda snatched up a rock and brought it down hard on the back of his head. His eyes widened in surprise and pain before they rolled back in his head and he slumped forward off the tree trunk. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered just as Basil, shouted, 'What are you doing there?' and started toward them.
Mary leaned down and picked up a stout branch. 'Leave her alone. Stop right there,' she shouted brandishing the stick. Basil stopped in confusion.
Lucinda leapt to her feet and pulled her trousers over her sore bottom with a wince. Almost as an afterthought, she leaned down and filched Harry's watch. 'Damned if I'm doing this again,' she muttered. 'Come on, Mary,' Lucinda called over her shoulder as she marched off toward the road with Mary following close behind. When they got to the road, Lucinda scooped up her fallen pistol and whistled for the horses. Both girls bit their lips and mounted quickly. With a quick wave at Tom, who was so startled by their quick appearance and departure that he didn't have time to act, the girls galloped off down the road.
Basil was torn between going after the girls and seeing to his Master, when a faint groan from Harry made his decision for him. He ran to Harry's side and helped him to sit up. 'Hell and damnation!,' Harry swore. 'Did they get away?' Basil didn't say a word as the sound of galloping hooves made the answer apparent. 'Damn. Damn. Damn.,' Harry swore again. 'This is not over, Madame Brigand, I can promise you that. Not over by a long shot,' he promised grimly. Then he allowed Basil to help him back to his coach. All in all, he was quite looking forward to getting home.
Chapter
Two
Charlotte's Adventure
Sides heaving with exertion, the stallion headed full out for the end of the track. The muddy ground flew beneath his pounding hooves, and his mane and tail were streaming back. The slight form of the jockey clung tenaciously to his back, leaning low over his neck to whisper words of praise and encouragement.
As they crossed the finish line, the trainer gave a wave and shout of glee. The rider brought the horse around and they trotted up to the trainer where he sat on the corral fence. “Well?”
“Good work, lad.” That’s the best time yet. No one will be able to touch old Blue at the meet next week.”
“Did you speak to Lord Walton about changing jockeys?”
“Not yet, lad. This may take some time. Mitchell has been Blue Thunder’s rider for the past two years and His Lordship doesn’t like making unnecessary changes.” He held up his hand to forestall the protest he saw coming. “I know you are a good rider and you and Blue seem to have an understanding, but you’re still young. There’s plenty of time yet.”
Lady Charlotte Morgan knew there was not plenty of time, but she chose not to argue with the trainer anymore. Ever since she’d unfolded the slip of paper that held her assignment—RIDE A THOROUGHBRED IN A NATIONAL MEET—she’d been single minded in the pursuit of this goal. She was already an excellent rider (all the Hellions were), but she needed some practice riding racehorses. So she began her masquerade. She dressed as a boy and got herself hired at the local racing stable.
It made things much easier for her that the owner of the estate next to her parent’s place owned and operated the stable. Lord Michael Walton and his parents had been friends of her family for many years. In fact, there had been some talk of a match between Lord Michael and her some time ago, but the sudden death of his father had postponed any marriage plans. Since she had been at school, Charlotte had no idea where things stood, but she wasn’t really concerned. Her parents would never force her to wed and she was not in any hurry. Perhaps she and Michael would end up married one day, but for now she had another goal to achieve.
Charlotte had been coming to the stables in her boy’s costume every morning except Sundays for the past month. In the beginning, her job was to groom and exercise the horses, but when the trainer recognized her skill, he began letting her participate in their training. She had been riding Blue Thunder almost exclusively for the past 2 weeks and they did have an understanding. She was confident that with her in the saddle, he was sure to win at the next meet. Now she just had to convince Michael to let her replace Mitchell as the jockey. After bringing Blue back to his stall and grooming him, she sought out Lord Walton.
Michael was seated at his desk in the stable office. He looked up at the knock on the door to see his newest employee standing there. “May I have a word with you, sir?”
Michael nodded and motioned for her to come in. He had recognized Charlotte from the moment he saw her in his stable last month, but had yet to let her know. He wondered how she imagined that she could fool him as they had practically grown up together and he and her brother were still best friends, but she seemed certain that her ruse was entirely successful. Michael played along because it amused him. Charlotte had always been into mischief, but this went beyond anything she had done in the past. He’d immediately told her brother, Christian, what was going on and the two had agreed to let it continue for the present. Christian knew that his sister would not come to any harm while under Michael’s watchful eye.
Charlotte walked into the office and made her case for riding Blue in the meet on Saturday. Michael barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open. This was her plan?
“No. It’s completely out of the question,” Michael stated, his tone implacable.
“But you know I’m the best rider after Mitchell,” Charlotte argued. “And I have a better relationship with Blue. Why can’t I take his place? I’m your best chance of a win.”
“No,” he said more firmly this time. “It’s a dangerous sport. It takes a strong man to control a horse out on the course and there are still accidents all the time. I’m certainly not going to let a young la--ad risk his life and one of my horses, not to mention the other jockeys and horses just to win another race.”
He’s almost slipped and let on that he knew her secret. He still had no idea why Charlotte Morgan was pretending to be a boy and hanging around the stables and he was determined to find out. But, he wanted her to come to him with the truth so he had been very careful so far. He never would have imagined that she’d want to do something so foolhardy, however. He would have to get a better hold on his temper or he would really make a mistake.
His vow to himself to keep his temper in check was severely tested in the next moments as Charlotte continued arguing.
“You’re being ridiculous, my lord,” Charlotte stated baldly. “You run these stables to make a profit. Winning races adds to your profit and your reputation as a breeder. I’m your best chance of winning here. I’m not afraid. It’s just stupid not to use me.”
Charlotte had done a fair job of impersonating a boy over the past few weeks, however she had clearly not mastered the servant’s attitude. Not only was her language upper class, her tone was outrageous. If anyone else in his employ had spoken to him like that, they’d be out the door with no reference. While he didn’t want to expose her deception yet, he simply could not let those remarks pass unchallenged.
Lord Walton took hold of his temper with both hands. “Young man, you will apologize at once for your impertinent remarks or you will be dismissed,” he bit out through clenched teeth.
Charlotte decided to backtrack a bit. “I am sorry, my lord,” she hastened to say. “It’s just that I want to ride Blue so much. I know we could win.”
“I’ve said it’s out of the question and I meant it. Mitchell will ride. You only just started with us and you are still very young. Perhaps in a few years, you’ll be ready for a professional race, but you are nowhere near ready yet.”
“That’s not true,” Charlotte started hotly, “I’ve been riding all my life and Blue and I have an understanding. No one can handle him better than I. And Mitchell,” she sneered a bit, “well, he’s afraid of Blue. He’ll never manage to bring him in first.”
Michael sighed and tried to summon up more patience, “Look, old man, I am finished arguing with you about this. I am the owner of the stable and the decision is mine. Your input on running my operations is neither desired nor appreciated. You are here to assist in exercising the horses and that’s all.”
“But, my lord.”
“Do you understand?” he asked pointedly.
“Yes, but”
“Good. Now I’ll have your promise that you’ll give up this idea of riding in a race.”
“No,” she mumbled looking at the floor.
“What?”
“No, I won’t give up the idea and you can’t make me. Even you cannot control what is going on inside my head,” Charlotte added defiantly.
Michael looked at her incredulously for a moment then nodded his head. “You’re right,” he said as he began taking off his jacket, “I can’t control what goes on in that foolish head of yours. But I can and I will control what goes on in my stables. And you, my lad, will not be riding in any races.”
“So you say, my lord.”
“So I say,” he agreed laying his jacket over the back of his chair, which he had pushed back away from his desk. He then began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. “Come here.”
The look in his eye and his too calm demeanor were starting to make her nervous. “Why?”
“Because I asked you to. Since you won’t give me your promise, I will have to do something to insure that you won’t try to ride next week.” He reached out and snagged her wrist and began pulling her towards him.
Charlotte was definitely nervous now. “What are you going to do?”
Michael smiled grimly, “I am going to make sure that you will not be sitting comfortably anywhere, much less atop a horse.” He sat down in his chair and jerked her face down across his lap.
“Oh, no!” Charlotte cried. “You can’t.”
Michael lay his big hand on the firm round bottom perched over his knee and chuckled. “Oh, yes, my lad. I certainly can. I should probably get a strap for all the trouble you’ve caused, but you’re such a skinny thing and small for your age. I daresay I can make enough of an impression with my hand. You let me know if I’m making my point, all right?” he added, lifting his palm high.
“No, please,” Charlotte started desperately and then added a most heartfelt “ow” as his hand landed hard for the first time.
Michael settled quickly into a brisk rhythm of slaps on her round cheeks. He wished he could pull down her trousers, but as he wanted to let her keep her secret, it wasn’t possible. The material was thin, however, and judging by the squeals and screams his smacks were evoking, she was feeling them quite well.
Charlotte lay in stunned disbelief across his lap. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d never been spanked before but she had heard her brother getting it once from their father in the study. She knew from his cries that spankings must hurt a good deal, but nothing had prepared her for the burning pain she was already experiencing and Michael had only just started. She wouldn’t be able to take much more of this.
“Ow. Ow. All right, you win,” she panted. “I won’t, ow, try to ride, ow, ow, Blue in the race, ow, oh, I promise.”
“No, of course you won’t,” Michael agreed as he continued to bring his hand down hard without missing a beat. “I’m confident that when we are finished here, sitting on a horse or anywhere else will not be an option for at least a week.”
“But, oh, my lord, I said I won’t ow try to race. Ow. Ow. You can stop now. Oh. Oh. Oh, please stop.”
“Stop? We’ve only just begun, my boy,” Michael chuckled again
and began slapping her bottom back and forth from cheek to cheek.
Charlotte grew frantic when she realized that her promise was not going to end this spanking. Wondering if anything would, she began to kick and twist and try to roll off his lap and away from his stinging palm.