Red Cloak of Abandon
By Shirl Anders
Smashwords Edition, Red Cloak of Abandon, published by Shirl Anders/ Allure Books
at Smashwords
Copyrighted©2004 by Shirl Anders.
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Blurb: Erotic romance. Sets the ringleader of the Lady Rogues, Affinity in sensual pursuit of Lord Fabier. Law held by a tragic episode from his past, which he tries to atone for. His hidden life as "Benefactor" of London prostitutes, is a secret, until one woman starts asking questions. The mystifying Lady Affinity whom he cannot ignore as he catches her rifling through his home and stealing his hidden journal of erotic dreams. HEA
Red Cloak of Abandon
By Shirl Anders
Chapter One
The door suddenly burst open to Affinity’s bedchamber, causing her quill pen to slide dark ink across the letter she was writing to her brother James.
“I didn’t do it!” Anne Fotts, the Redgrift house chambermaid cried. Affinity sat back quite taken by surprise at Anne’s unusual theatrics and uncommon entrance into her room. “I swear, Miss Affinity, on my dead mum’s grave. I did not do it!”
Affinity watched Anne sail toward her like a battleship stalwart on its course. The little maid, embroiled in her histrionics was not going to stop, Affinity realized as she dropped the quill pen. The bouncing pen left another large blot on her letter, right upon the part where she'd been explaining to James about the new Brown Bess marksman rifles, then she turned in her chair hastily, apparently thinking to catch the maid. How unusual, Affinity thought, she could not remember the last time she had embraced anyone.
Affinity was really quite grateful a moment later when Anne fell to her knees instead of hysterically embracing her. Anne’s dramatic supplication came to a halt at Affinity’s feet, with Anne clutching her skirts, while tears streamed down her normally pleasant face. Not knowing what else to do in her concern, Affinity patted one of Anne’s white knuckled hands gripping her skirts. She peeped over her writing spectacles at Aunt Fuchsia to see what effect this was having on her, but of course Aunt Fuchsia was lost to the events happening around her as she hummed softly while rocking in a chair by the window. Aunt Fuchsia could barely hear any longer and her mind wandered lately to her own fanciful world of events. Yet, Affinity thought, surely Aunt Fuchsia would hear Anne’s crying screech.
“You cannot let, Lord Redgrift, fire me, Miss Affinity. I’d never steal! I swear it!”
Ah oh. Affinity patted Anne’s hand more vigorously. She’d never believe Anne of stealing. Anne was as loyal as they came, and that was implying a lot for a maid that was employed by her uncle, the frugal and waspish Lord Redgrift. However, Affinity understood sadly that she held absolutely no sway whatsoever over her crotchety old uncle in a domestic matter such as this, or truths be told, in any other matters.
Yet, with her spine straight as she normally confronted life, she did offer her loyalty. “I will never believe you stole a crumb of bread, dear Anne. How could this come about?”
“It was John Hanson,” Anne sniffled with imploring eyes and a red nose. “I would not take his advances and the evil bastard done this to me. Lied, he did! So spiteful he was, saying I stole Lord Redgrift’s war medal!”
Affinity gasped, stealing herself as though her uncle's vengeful wrath were present in the room. John Hanson was more than merely spiteful, if this were true, he was abominable. There was no greater prize in all Lord Redgrift’s memorabilia than that medal. The entire household would pay dearly for this act of malice, and poor Anne the worst.
“I demand that strumpet thief out of my household at once!”
Affinity flinched at her uncle’s bellowing coming from the foyer, as Anne cried. “This will ruin me! I will never work again. I do not know what I will do!”
Suddenly, tromping feet sounded in the hallway, and two of the Redgrift footmen appeared, coming purposely through the open doorway. Affinity acutely felt the invasion arrow down her spine as Anne stood and she stood with her. The fact that she had to do something raced through Affinity’s thoughts, yet the way to do so eluded her overturned mind.
Then suddenly, she dragged the small opal ring she wore from her third finger, snatching Anne’s hand just as the footmen took hold of poor Anne on either side. Affinity managed to close Anne’s fingers around the ring just before the footmen began to escort the sobbing Anne from the room. It was her mother’s ring, one of only two pieces she had of her mother’s legacy. But she had so little herself to give, as she gasped, too late for Anne to hear, “I am so sorry!”
Early the next morning, Affinity was ashamed of herself as she paced the oiled oak floorboards in her bedchamber. “I should have but tried!” It mattered not that she had given dearly of what little she owned, because she understood Anne’s dire fate. If only Anne had some family of her own to fall back on. “And if only this were not so unfairly a man’s world!” Affinity muttered.
Men controlled every event, every action, and every woman in one form or another. Too no good at all. It could be said that she was bias with the horrible uncle that she was sacked with. However, at all turns in her life it seemed that men thwarted her desired pursuits. For goodness sakes, because of her gender, she was not allowed to read the very public London newspaper. It was considered unseemly and unladylike that she should even have the desire to do so. A lady, or any woman for that matter, less prostitutes, she imagined, were not allowed to approach any man of her interest in this partisan world.
“How in the world will they know that I am interested in them, if I am not even allowed to approach them?” The answer, of course, was to wait for them to approach you, which was never going to happen as far as she could tell from her first disastrous half-season in London so far. “And I really question how men ever won the first war. The ninnies!”
“My lady, I have gotten the address.”
“Mrs. Todd, that is excellent,” Affinity said, turning to the Redgrift cook standing in the open doorway to her bedchamber.
Mrs. Todd was a thin and pinched looking woman of undeterminable age, but with a secret heart of gold. “Yes, my lady, and I sent the note along for, Anne, to meet you in the park by the statue of Admiral Nelson.”
Affinity clapped her hands together, then reached for her gloves. “Then, I shall go straight away, I will not want to miss her. I know I will be able to find her a position with one of my friends soon. She must have heart and I will relay that to her. Thank you, Mrs. Todd!”
Mrs. Todd’s gaze darted down the hallway, then back to Affinity, as her voice lowered. “I have a small packet of food, Miss Affinity.”
Affinity whispered also, “Of course, Mrs. Todd, as much as you can and should Aunt Fuchsia ask, just say that I am napping.”
Chapter Two
Affinity entered St. James Park at a brisk walk, adjusting the veil pulled down from her jaunty walking hat beneath her chin more firmly. It was not quite proper for her to be unescorted anywhere, much less the park. However, for her mission it was necessary, and she really bristled on the bits of societies constraints continually hemming her in. Therefore this was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, that she would move about unescorted as she wished. This being true, she strove for the upright and confident carriage of a married lady about town. She felt quite lucky to have an absentminded chaperon like Aunt Fuchsia. It allowed her all types of liberties other young ladies never hoped to entertain.
Yet, her stolid friends, Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity all seemed to manage clandestine freedom from their various families when needed. They were all young ladies, having met and formed a closely bound group of friendship, while attending Lady Whitmore’s Academy for Young Ladies. They had all received their letters of graduation from the academy at the same time, and this year found them ensconced in their first London season.
“Not that it is doing one of us any blasted good in finding husband material!” Affinity muttered as she came in sight of the rather pompous bronzed statue of Lord Nelson atop a stallion.
Suddenly, the sounds of a dog’s sharp yelping came from Affinity’s left, stopping her forward motion as she turned her gaze toward the hurtful sound. She saw a gentleman, in great agitation, whipping the quirt he carried down upon an apparently loose Gordon setter with a lush coat of russet. Affinity yelped at the same moment that the dog did upon receiving another cruel blow from the quirt, then she hastily found her voice. “I say there! Is that your dog?” she cried, somewhat shrilly as she marched toward the pair. She immediately saw the loose leash dangling from the setter and realized the poor animal was backed into bramble bushes and could not escape the angry nobleman.
“Away!” the elderly man shouted, raising his quirt again.
“Do not thrash him again!” Affinity cried, boldly running between the livid elderly nobleman and the setter.
“The beast is dangerous!” he shouted, yet just as the overturned patriarchal gentleman shouted his warning, Affinity heard a sharp whistle coming from behind them and to the left of where she and the setter stood. In her mind she was certain the agitated nobleman would not bring his quirt down upon her as she turned toward the setter’s answering bark of welcome.
Affinity’s gaze lifted and it was as though the normally overcast skies parted in a unique ray of sunlight to shine down on the obvious Master of the setter. By her intervention, she had given the setter enough room to escape, and she watched the beautiful dog bound toward his Master, some thirty paces away.
Black eyes as deep and ponderous as a sleeping volcano glanced at her beneath a widely-rimmed country top hat. The brim on the top hat was so sweeping that Affinity could not identify the color or shape of the gentleman’s hair. She could only see those depth-filled eyes, a square masculine nose, and a jawline shadowed by the scraped bristles of what would be a darker beard if allowed to grow out.
The man appeared only slightly taller than her height as she stood in her walking boots. He wore a great coat with its charcoal-colored capes billowing out in the slight wind. He appeared rather majestic, yet somehow mysterious, Affinity thought, even as she was unsure where the conclusions came from. However, there was no mistaking the slight increase in her heartbeat. A reaction she knew instantly as attraction. She found him appealing. That was odd. Yet, that revelation could not be denied as the gentleman grasped the setter’s leash and turned to leave, his entire bearing was quite pleasant to gaze upon, with his high riding boots, tightly fitted tan-shaded buckskin breeches, and firm shoulders.
“Masculine and not foppish at all,” Affinity whispered, finding herself fighting the urge to follow the manly gentleman as she realized her attraction came from precisely the fact of his effervescent male bearing. So many of London’s fashionable and eligible bachelors ended up looking dandified with their frills, lace, buckled shoes, and curled hair. All of this was done for the Belles of the Ball, of course, those young ladies most popular at all the London seasons events. Apparently, they wanted their men as such, because they tittered over them enough.
“But not me,” Affinity whispered, taking one step toward the path where her masculine gentleman and the setter had disappeared down. Then, she brought herself to a reluctant stop, what she would not give to see more of this man, perhaps discover his name. But she had to meet Anne and that was more important.
She was glad to see, when she turned back to her mission, that the dog beating nobleman had disappeared. It was only a short distance to the statue and Affinity could see that Anne had not arrived yet. Immediately, she began to worry over whether Anne would come at all.
“Of course she will,” Affinity muttered, arriving at the statue and circling it slowly with her eyes cast out into the park for a glimpse of Anne’s approach. She knew that her uncle’s angry dismissal of Anne, while labeling her a thief, left Anne with only two choices. One of factory worker or two, prostitution, and likely not the factory worker with the brand of thief upon her. It was unique that she should understand these sordid affairs, yet she was an avid student of life and the world around her was her classroom. Many ladies of her station would be aghast that she wished to understand the realities of life. But they were fools for their compliance and living only half a life with half the emotions that could be experienced.
Affinity caught glimpses of yellow out of the corner of her eye and she turned her gaze more fully toward it. Anne’s bonnet was yellow, but the glimpse through the trees was gone. “No wait, there it is again.” Yet, Affinity could not decide if it was coming closer or moving further away. It was not far, so she walked in that direction to obtain a closer look. It appeared as if the yellow swatches were bouncing amidst the clutter of green leaves, but also staying in one singular spot. Then abruptly, Affinity heard a woman’s cry that moved her forward hastily. She was instantly reminded of the setter just a short time ago, because the woman’s cry was certainly distressed. Then, just as soon as she broke through the leafy tree branches, she spied Anne.
“Oh my God!” Affinity exclaimed, halting suddenly, uncertain how to proceed. Uncertain, how to rescue Anne? “Anne!” she cried, realizing instantly that her cry was foolish, because it was Anne who was being accosted by a thick, short-set, and greasy-haired ruffian.
Anne and the man struggled beside a little used path with the ruffian obviously accosting Anne in a sexual nature. One of his dirt-stained hands was pawing Anne’s breasts through her linen gown, while his other arm was gripped around her waist. Affinity gathered her courage, even though her limbs were shaking, and she started forward, because her exclamation had not stopped his advances at all.
“Come on, ye sassy bird! I got a halfpence here for ye to suck me pud.”
Affinity gasped at the scoundrel’s lewd language and meaning, as Anne cried. “I'm not a bird! I am no prostitute! Let me go!”
Just then, Affinity swung her carrying bag at the scrappy ruffian’s thick head with all the force she could muster. It was the only weapon she could conceive of and it did hold a rather hefty book. However, the weight of the lift and the swing were more feeble than she'd hoped for and the bag only thumped against the scoundrel’s shoulder, as she exclaimed, “Release her at once! She is my maid and I will call a Bow Street runner . . . Oh!” Affinity cried out as the awful smelling ruffian swung his arm around knocking her backward.
Over the din, severe barking sounded as Affinity tottered, then she thankfully regained her balance, just as the barking turned into a threatening growl with what sounded like the word, “Attack!” Swiping her falling bonnet upright, Affinity was able to lift her gaze and she saw the Gordon setter attacking the lecherous villain.
“Go, Beauty!” Affinity cried enthusiastically, quite surprising herself. But then Anne, who was released from the villain’s clutches by the setter’s intervention, began cheering also. The man who was overturned and overpowered, leaped back to flee with the setter after him.
“Oh no!” Affinity exclaimed, when she saw that the setter meant to give chase. Affinity hastily glanced around not seeing the setter’s Master and she knew the brave setter could be lost in the chase if someone did not restrain him. Then without really considering it, because events were transpiring so quickly, she simply rushed forward after the setter in the heat of the moment. She did not know the setter’s name, so she called him Beauty as she excitedly tried to call him back.
It was quite unseemly for a lady to run as she was, but she had to admit it felt extremely good and enormously freeing. Her young limbs stretched and her breath labored as she gave her full effort to the task. She was never one to do anything halfheartedly. However, she would not have caught the setter, except the villain leaped a short wrought-iron fence enclosing the edges of the park. He did it so clumsily that he snagged his leg and tore his brown-stained breeches, while she cheered at his discomfort. But she also cheered the fact that the setter was unable to pass the barrier of the fence, and she was able to halt her running a short distance away from him. Then, really without meaning to do so and with her breath catching, Affinity sank to her knees.
She had to find a soothing voice to coax the setter to her, however her breathing was such she could not manage it for long moments. But by then, the setter had come to her side nuzzling her happily as though they were old comrades together. Affinity supposed that by now they were as she petted him fondly, wishing heartily that she could undo her corset.
But that was a lady’s lot in life, to be so constrained and tied up tightly in the misguided guise of attractiveness and morality.
“Oh but I have run, Beauty!” Affinity exclaimed to the setter, petting him faithfully with one hand, while she grasped his leash with the other. “I might never have a chance to do this again. It was glorious!”
Affinity stood then, looking around the park to see if any were aghast at her display. Surely seeing her catch the setter would relieve any censure, and while she noticed that most people were about their business, her gaze did halt on two ladies sitting on a bench across the park.
“Oh no,” Affinity muttered, turning her gaze immediately away from them.
It was Lady Jane Strickland and Lady Anna Pommel. How could they possibly be up this early in the morning? Both those young ladies were pampered and beautiful snobs of the worst kind. They lived their lives looking down their classically perfect noses at others while pronouncing judgments and maligning them with vicious gossip. Only the truly popular and beloved of London’s society could do that, and they were the ringleaders of the group of ladies that were Affinity’s nemesis. She and her three friends, Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity had somehow, within the first two events of this season, been found undesirable or lacking. Nonetheless, she was intelligent enough to realize this must happen every season. The natural law of human nature proclaimed there would always be the most popular, the midrange popular, and then the wallflowers.
“Yet it is so unfair,” Affinity muttered, turning with the leash in her hand to walk back and hopefully find Anne. “The gentlemen do not seem to have these same rules.” Gentlemen were popular no matter what their appearance or demeanor, but especially popular depending on their income and title. “But now,” Affinity grumbled, “I have given Lady Jane and Lady Anna more fuel to lower me into the already deep pit that I reside in. Hell!”
Oh yes, and they would gleefully use it. As if they did not have enough handsome suitors swarming around them already that they needed to ensure every last one remained attentively beside their most glorious and beautiful refinement.
“Pfftt,” Affinity scoffed. “I would not want one of those gentlemen if they find such women attractive and desirable.”
But Affinity knew it was an empty bit of bravado exclaimed by every girl in her position in London society before her. And she also knew, that she, and every unfortunate girl before her, dreamed of just one dance with a gentleman, or just one stolen kiss in the garden, or simply a small bit of attention.
Affinity frowned because she knew how cruel Lady Jane and Lady Anne could be and now she would have to make certain at the next soirée to remain invisible. Nevertheless, it was not as if that was difficult to do, as designated wallflowers, she and her friends spent many hours being invisible. What she would not give just one time to stir things up! Do something outrageously and set everyone aghast at her original boldness. Not necessarily for the attention she might yearn for, but to break the mold of society’s strict etiquette. She did not imagine that most ladies, having never been in her position, ever yearn just to ask a gentleman to dance.
“My Lady Affinity! Oh my goodness, are you all right?”
Affinity’s head lifted from her musing as she hurried toward Anne. This time she did not hold back her feelings of affection and relief. “Yes, yes, Anne, I am fine,” she said embracing Anne.
“Oh thank goodness, my lady. That bellswagger pimp thought that he would force me into the bird trade, he did. But look, look, Miss Affinity, I've been saved! It is the Benefactor, my lady. The Benefactor of women!”
Affinity’s gaze turned down to the card clutched in Anne’s hand. It was pristine white and the size of a gentleman’s calling card, yet what arrested her attention was the symbol embellished in gold stamped upon the card. The Benefactor, my god, she had heard of it.
Of him? Of them? No one knew for certain if it was a group or a single individual, yet all of the working class or lower knew of this symbol and name. The symbol was a circle with a cross directly beneath it. Some proclaimed it was a symbol for women, and others just shook in relief at the chances of being saved from the life of prostitution, just as Anne was with her face glowing in hope.
“I cannot say more about it,” Anne said. “I know you understand, Miss Affinity, but I had to tell you. To let you know that I will be all right.”
Affinity nodded mutely, embracing Anne once again. Part of the Benefactor’s price was secrecy. The woman being so sponsored, such as Anne, must not speak of the details, and as much as Affinity wanted to ask Anne who, a man or a woman, had given her the card, she did not. She also realized that she might never know what would become of Anne and that was the hardest part. However, many before had trusted the Benefactor and she did as well, realizing this was in effect saving dear Anne’s life.
“Be well,” Affinity said, with feeling and a few tears. “You will be in my thoughts and prayers, dear Anne.”
“Oh, Miss,” Anne sniffled. “Oh and here, my lady,” Anne said as she stepped back from their embrace, then she pulled a hand linen from her pocket, opening it. “The ring, Miss, I won’t be needing it now.”
“Oh, Anne!” Affinity exclaimed at the clear evidence of Anne’s honesty. “Are you sure, Anne, it is your's, you know? Perhaps, you should keep it a while, just in case. You can always return it to me if you do not need to use it.”
Anne kept the ring and they said their rather tearful goodbyes, then Affinity watched Anne leave from her sight, before she looked down at the setter. “Well, Beauty, so many adventures this morning, and all that turned out well.”
The setter’s expressive brown eyes looked exactly as though he agreed as he sat patiently by her side. Then, a whistle sounded off in the distance and the setter immediately rose and pounced to the end of his leash. It was the setter’s Master calling him, Affinity knew, as her heartbeat quickened unaccountably. She could take the setter to him personally, it might not be stretching etiquette too far, if they were to be introduced that way for the first time. Nevertheless, she hesitated, something inside her unsure and speaking to her that this was much too important to leave to chance. She had been on the receiving end of chance for far to long now and it had not once gotten her a gentleman caller or even asked to dance. Somehow, she needed to be in more control. Perhaps, she needed to try to shape events herself?
Affinity let go of the setter’s leash, watching him bound through the trees, then the large meadow further on. She immediately started forward at a brisk walk this time and not a run as she wondered briefly at the timing of the setter’s Master calling him back. Well, to begin with, the setter providentially coming to the rescue was rather odd. The setter’s Master did not appear to be the type of man to lose his dog’s leash twice. Then, Affinity saw him, well truthfully just the outline of him in the distance as he and the setter were reunited once again. Affinity moved closer, yet not near enough to be seen, as she watched the gentleman turn to leave the park with the setter.
Affinity quickly followed at a discreet distance. She was determined to find out the gentleman’s name and rank, in this her first foray into shaping events. Yes, she really did like the sound of that, “Shaping events to her desires.”
Chapter Three
His name was Lawrence Fabier and he was a Duke. Affinity had heard little about him before. He was the Duke of St. Martin and in hushed tones people spoke of him being rather reclusive and mysterious. She had caught the topic twice being speculated on in quiet tones by a few mothers noting his marriageable eligibility and his candid absence at all the season's events.
The aura of his mystic behavior livened her immediately, while at the same moment the title he carried of Duke served to make her feel daunted. That was surprising to her and very irritating. What? Did she believe she was not worthy enough for an exalted Duke? My-My, the difficulties of this London season and the undesirable category that they had slotted her into had taken more of a toll on her than she'd realized.
It was probably her anger then that set her onto her next course of indescribably bold action. Affinity saw what looked to be a pantry maid leaving the Duke’s well-maintained townhouse. The maid was very young and possibly on her way to the market for the cook, because she carried a basket. Affinity fell into step behind the maid. She was quite determined that she was going to bribe the Duke of St. Martin’s pantry maid for information about her employer.
Oh, and it had worked! Hours later, Affinity could not believe her brashness as she unpinned her veiled bonnet and tossed it on the bed in her bedchamber. She immediately took to pacing briskly across her room, unable to contain her excitement. It felt wondrous, this thrum of excitement. It felt as though she finally had a small piece of her life back in her hands and she was controlling it.
“Oh and I want more,” Affinity exclaimed.
She had successfully bribed the Duke of St. Martin’s pantry maid and the young woman had been a wealth of information. The pantry maid’s name was Nell and she'd seemed at once worldly for all her youthful appearance. However, Nell was not completely disloyal to her employer, there were certain things she would not discuss, such as the timing of the Duke’s comings and goings.
“It wouldn’t be proper to tell you that,” Nell had exclaimed. “But a nice lady such as yourself wanting to know if he is married, that’s another thing all together.”
So, Nell had told her that the Duke of St. Martin was not married, and they all, meaning the household staff, really thought he should be. It was here that Affinity realized that Nell, and it seemed all of the Duke’s staff, adored him. Nell spoke of the Duke with the fondness of a family member and not an employer, and Affinity instantly felt drawn closer to him in spirit. It was also revealed that, “Law,” as Affinity had secretly been calling him, did not have a mistress, nor the presence of any steady lady friends that he called upon. He was a bachelor living alone with only one elderly aunt still living, but she resided in the country.
Affinity sorely wondered what the mysterious Duke of St. Martin did with his time. However, on these subjects Nell was vague or mute and that only fueled Affinity’s curiosity. She was smart enough to realize that Nell gave out this information to a lady she perceived as interested in the Duke. In fact, Affinity considered, given Law’s apparent semi-reclusiveness, other ladies might have inquired after him in this same fashion. The thought of that left Affinity feeling slightly deflated. She did not wish to be one among many, because that had already proven unsuccessful. No, if she were to set her sights on Lawrence Fabier, the Duke of St. Martin, she would have to be much more original and aggressive.
So, she wondered, how did a woman, a creative, intelligent, and witty woman, catch a man? Certainly not the way the ladies of the ton went about it. She must think outside the normal. And Affinity wondered if the question were, could she do it, or was she brave enough to do it?
“The young lady’s name was, Lady Affinity Redgrift, your grace.”
Law gazed at Nell thoughtfully. “Did she have straight long hair, pulled back, yet falling to her waist? Brown hair with red highlights in the sunlight.”
“Could have been her,” Nell paused expectantly.
“Did she possess rather large-,” Law found his hands mimicking mounds on his chest and he quickly dropped them, as Nell exclaimed,
“Boobies! Yes she did, your grace, and she wore a plum-colored walking dress like the ladies wear. So you’ve met her then?”
Law nodded absently. “I have seen her.”
“Well, the young Miss, did not realize how much she told me of herself, you see. But I’m positive she was a real lady and not a prostitute pretending to be one. That one could not lie well if she tried.”
That should be the end of it, Law thought. He shouldn’t have any further reason to ask anymore questions or to be curious. This Lady Affinity was not a prostitute seeking his help. He had no need to inquire further on her behalf. However, the image of her in the park had not left his thoughts.
That was odd.
He'd barely been able to see her, veiled as she was, only her long hair and the constrained outline of those breasts. He remembered thinking upon seeing the shape of those healthy mounds that they were certainly held back by a corset or such and they would be that much larger if freed. The thought had not startled him overly, because he had fleeting lustful thoughts most days. He would catch sight of something that would strike him, then set his mind turning. A ripe peach in the marketplace, a glimpse of a lady’s bare ankle as she stepped up into her coach, or a mare that was sleek and sweating after a long gallop.
But Lady Affinity had asked after him . . . And she was not a prostitute. “I would not care for her to find out my secret profession, Nell.”
“Oh, I would never tell, your grace. You know that.”
“I could not do what I do, if they found out . . . you understand?”
“I only told her that you weren’t married.”
“She asked such a thing?” Law was immediately surprised, even as he wondered, just what it was he thought she'd asked Nell then. Ladies, he'd assumed, did not really ask after gentlemen, except in social circles.
“Yes, it was her first question, your grace.”
He really should let this go. “And her second question, Nell?”
“Did ye have a mistress or a lady friend?”
Law swiveled in his study chair to look directly at Nell, because he'd been gazing out the windows into the gardens at the rear of his property.
“Aye, your grace, interesting isn’t it,” Nell pronounced with a gregarious smile that showed a few missing teeth.
That was an understatement, Law thought. A lady asking intimate questions about him was singularly unique. He strictly stayed out of social gatherings just because of his glaring marriage eligibility. His mission in life was not to find a wife. He knew to well he did not deserve that. However, he could not help longing for the touch of a woman and he wondered if he was damned from ever having the pleasure again. So Lady Affinity’s curiosity and interest excited him slightly and he took his pleasures, small as they were, wherever he could savor them.
He'd been out of touch too long and he had not realized that young ladies had become so emboldened. Of course with what he now knew about womens natures, he should not be at all surprised. He'd long pondered that some ladies must have the feelings of a prostitute beneath their soft veneers, and that was either his long-felt and foolish hope . . . or possibly a truth.
“If she should approach you again, Nell, please tell her that you have spoken to me, out of your undying loyalty.”
Nell snorted, bobbing her short black hair. “Undying loyalty is it, Gov’? I would go to hell for you.”
“Well then say that,” Law replied quietly. “And I would for you also, Nell.”
“Yer bating her, I see!” Nell grinned. “Oh I like that, yer grace.”
Chapter Four
Affinity nibbled at her bottom lip and her one crooked front tooth made the effort more rewarding, and she supposed because of it that she did it more often than most. She knew that she did it especially industriously when she was worried or anxious as she was now.
It was eight o’clock in the evening and dark outside. A moonless night that she'd specifically picked for the absence of the moon. Aunt Fuchsia had long since gone to bed after hearing Affinity was not feeling well and would be spending the evening in her room. A small white lie, Affinity thought, looking at her attire in the full length mirror once more. It was an odd menagerie of clothing that she'd managed to piece together.
She wore brown twill breeches. They were the darkest color she could find, when she'd rummaged through her uncle’s old clothing in the attic. They were surely from his younger days, being slimmer now than his portly weight. However, she still had to take them in considerably, and the buttoned up, square-pocketed, front of the breeches were unique to her. Of course, she had seen them before, but certainly never had them on to see them work. It made that unique place between a man’s legs seem that much more mysterious, and it made her feel strangely heated to know that a few buttons undone in the front and her sex would be exposed.
Of course she'd seen a male organ twice in her life. One time when her uncle had been ill and circumstances left her, in one instant, the only one available at the precisely urgent moment to help him. It had been a fleeting glimpse and it had shocked her. She'd been a young girl then, nearly the age of fifteen, and when she'd imagined such things, somehow they were vaguely majestic and commanding. Certainly not withered and red looking. Up until that time she had no idea of the size, shape, position, or the condition of that area between a man’s legs. She was quite disappointed, but that was until she'd seen Bartley, who was the Redgrift’s head groom. She'd been innocently passing by the stables in her seventeenth year, when a swatch of color had caught her eye through a wider slat on the side of the stable building. Immediately curious that she could see it, she'd stopped and leaned forward to peek. That was when she had see Bartley pissing in the hay or more precisely she'd seen his organ, a long healthy pink-skinned organ. What a revelation that had been to enliven her.
Since that day and through many whispered conversations with her best of friends Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity, she had a vague understanding of the look and function of the male organ, this pocketed front concealed in a man’s breeches. She was certain that most of the function they imagined was vastly fanciful, gleaned from bits and pieces the girls had been able to pick up along the way. They would take these bits of information, not enough to obtain a truly clear picture, and they would twist them around in their talks, until they seemed to fit logically. Of course, that meant it really was only fictional imagery. It was sad that such sexual things were kept so secret. Of course, it also fueled their desires to know the truth of it.
All of them had learned the art of touching themselves to climatic conclusion. Never together of course, but they'd spoken about it as true friends do when revealing secrets. They spoke, giggling of stroking between their legs to relieve the insistent aches that built there upon odd occasions. Such as the one that was beginning to happen between her thighs now, Affinity thought, looking at the dark woolen sweater she wore.
She could not wear a corset with this attire and it left her breasts free flowing beneath a light chemise and the sweater. She could feel the wool grazing her nipple tips with each shift of her body, and she was surprised, but had to admit wearing the outfit alone was arousing her.
“Of course, it cannot be that I intend to sneak into Law’s home,” Affinity declared as she grabbed her veiled bonnet and stuffed it on top of her head. It did not fit well because she had piled her hair in a large bun on the top of her head. The bonnet and veil also looked quite ridiculous with the rest of her clandestine outfit. However, she felt the need to be masked and this was the best she could come up with.
Affinity assured herself that the entire objective was that no one was to see her, so it mattered little what she actually looked like. She was even going so far as to walk to Law’s home, rather than hiring a hackney. She would stealthily keep to the alleyways and the shadows. So, she picked up the last bit of her furtive costume, a small black billy club that she had found in the attic. She could not go out alone through the back alleys without protection.
This week, she had watched Law’s home nearly every day until as late in the evening as she could manage. What she'd learned was that none of his servants stayed in residence overnight, which was very odd. But she'd also learned today quite by chance of overhearing Law’s groom say that the carriage needed to be brought out because his grace was going out to a boxing event.
Affinity had quickly left then to check the times of this boxing event. Luckily there was only one boxing match that it could be and that left the field open if she was brave enough to raise the game she wanted to play higher.
Really, curiosity drove her commonsense in this matter entirely astray. She'd already admitted to herself that she had a complete and overblown crush on the Duke of St. Martin. She had never experienced one before and it was quite breathtaking. Brevity had once had a crush over a mature and refined school master at Lady Whitmore’s Academy for Young Ladies. The crush had been quite dramatic and Affinity now understood why. The feelings inside her had no real logic to them. They were simply bold and nearly overpowering. They created this momentous desire inside her to discover more about the object of her affection.
But she was not doing this completely because of her amorous urges. She had a plan. The infancy of a plan at least. She would learn all that she could about Law, in the process making certain he was worthy of her amorous intent, and then she would use that knowledge to entice Law’s mind and his soul. She would be all that he desired. In fact, she would seduce him if that were possible.
So determinedly, Affinity managed to make good time and was not seen as she made her way to Law’s home some five blocks away. She approached his townhouse from the rear, having to physically climb a stone wall to do so. It was quite an event for her, and she resolved that she was physically weak for all the effort it cost her. Luckily, the stone wall had shifted and become uneven over time, allowing her to find handhold's and foothold's to lift herself and draw her cumbersome body over the top.
She resolved, as she sat atop the stone fence, puffing hard breaths, that she was immediately going to start a physical regiment to overcome this irritating weakness. “Women just sit on their posteriors too long,” she muttered, looking for a way to lower herself down the inside of the stone wall.
What she spied was the low hanging branch of a tree next to the wall. So very daring, she used this with a small leap and managed to catch the branch in her hands, which dangled her feet closer to the ground below. Then, she let go and it was only a short distance to land on her feet. She smiled vividly, realizing how brave and determined she was in her goal. It felt glorious to take charge, and the humming of excitement filling her body was like an aphrodisiac.
Carefully and silently, Affinity picked her way through the garden to the back of Law’s townhouse. There were a few lights burning, yet they appeared dim and they did not overly worry her because many people left a few lights on for their return. Now came the tricky part. How to get inside? She had thought this over and, as of yet, had not come up with many good answers. She could only hope that some part of the townhouse had been left open.
So with this hope, she began to systemically try every window and door as quietly as she could. She was down on her hands and knees trying a lowercase window outside what appeared to be Law’s study, when suddenly a face loomed before her on the other side of the window pane. Affinity yelped, rearing back and clamping a hand over her mouth to contain any further sounds, with her gaze leaping from a short distance unfocused, to a longer distance focused.
“Beauty,” she whispered through her fingers, looking at Law’s russet setter gazing back at her eagerly through the window pane. “Oh, shh shh,” she added quickly, hoping he would not bark at her.
But Beauty just sat there gazing at her hopefully with his tail wagging. Still, he looked as though he could start barking at her at any moment, so she backed away slowly. It would be better to try the other rooms' windows where Beauty was not perched, she decided as she moved back into the shadows. Next, she tried the dining room windows and she was standing on her tiptoes, industriously intent on a side window, when something poked her on her bottom.
“Oh my God!” Affinity squealed, jumping and turning and tripping all in what felt like the same motion. Then, she found herself landing on her posterior in the flower patch under the window. A large shape loomed over her and before she could think, the next thing that happened made her laugh outright. It was Beauty’s wet tongue licking her cheek.
“Oh you!” Affinity gushed fondly, grasping Beauty in a hug, then raised herself to sit beside him. “You scared the devil out of me,” Affinity scolded him as she thoroughly petted him, to his happily wagging tail. It took her a few minutes to catch her breath and her wits, when she finally realized . . . “How did you get outside, Beauty?”
Immediately, Beauty trotted away as though he understood her question and Affinity got to her feet to follow, hoping this did not mean someone had let Beauty outdoors. But what Beauty led her to was a small door within a door. “How clever,” Affinity whispered, watching Beauty push through the small door that moved inward with his nudge. This door was obviously built specially for Beauty to let him in and out of the gardens whenever he wished.
If she had been a man or just inches wider, she would not have made it through the door. However, she just fit sideways with only a few scrapes. Once inside, she found herself in a darkened pantry, and as she got to her feet, dusting herself off, she patted Beauty’s head. “Well I have gone and done it now,” Affinity whispered, looking down into Beauty’s loyal brown eyes.
She stood still for several minutes listening silently to the quiet house. There were no noises at all and she felt certain with some inner sense added that she was alone. Her goal in this search was to find some of Law’s interests and likes, as in the boxing that she now knew he favored. By the time she met him, she would know all there was to know about boxing. Wouldn’t that surprise any gentleman? A lady knowing how to converse intelligently about any sport and not just her next embroidering projects? These ideas that kept coming to her had such merit! A man and a woman could have true companionship, if they had things in common. It was so much better to have things in common than relying upon appearance and social standings. Yes, Affinity thought, these thoughts bolstered her. It was much different planning to do something as opposed to actually doing it . . . as in right now.
She started out very timidly, but quickly her curiosity and interest overcame her hesitations and she was quite enjoying herself. And that was when she found the journal. She'd looked through Law’s library finding a great many clues to his nature there. He was currently reading Mystery Island by Jules Vern set on a table by a comfortable reading chair that appeared well used. The library shelves held a great many books about military history and warfare, making her wonder if he had ever been to war. There was a chess set opened on the table, so she assumed that he liked chess. The room itself smelled wonderful also, like smoky cherries, pine, and books. The smoky cherry flavor in the air had her wondering, until she found a box of cigarillos, which were small thin cigars. She had heard of these. They were not a usual find in England and it took a lot of her willpower not to pocket one and later perhaps daringly try a puff. Then, as much to keep herself from taking a cigarillo, as to further her explorations, she moved from Law’s library into his study.