Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (21 page)

“Yes,” Wendlesson answered. “As you can see,
I could use your services.”

“You are not obligated,” Gallant
interjected. “In fact, Madame would not approve your risking the
ire of your steady patron.”

“Madame need not know.”

Her response made him frown.

“I would provide enough compensation to ease
her disapproval,” Wendlesson added. “Let us not tarry.”

“Sir Arthur has already agreed to a rich
price for Miss Terrell’s exclusive favors.”

“Why are you here, Gallant?”

“I could service the both of you,” Terrell
replied.

Gallant strode over to where his coat hung
on a coatrack. “I have fulfilled my duty for the evening and will
be party to nothing more.”

“But—”

“I bid you both good evening.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving her
alone with Wendlesson. She had little time for disappointment to
fill her, for Wendlesson had gripped her by the neck.

“Come, wench.”

“First, we must agree to this compensation
you spoke of,” she answered. “A guinea.”

“A guinea! You think your cunnie made of
gold?”

“My cunnie is better than gold.”

“Very well! I agree only because I do not
wish to keep my wife waiting.”

She would have preferred the company of
Master Gallant to the guinea, but it was decent compensation. How
many women, black or white, could command a guinea for their
cunnie?

Wendlesson pushed her down to her knees and
presented his veined cock. She took it into her mouth. He grunted
in satisfaction and promptly began to fuck her face. Several times
he popped his cock out to slap his hand across her cheek. He was a
strong man, and the blows nearly sent her sprawling to the ground.
But she recovered each time and gulped his cock as hard as she
could.

“My God,” he gasped.

She had seen him with a submissive before
and knew what he liked.

“The crop, Master Wendlesson,” she said.

Nodding, he went to retrieve the implement
while she threw up her skirts and presented him her arse. He landed
the crop upon a buttock. She cried out. He rained the crop down
upon her backside till she was certain pink welts covered her. Her
screams filled the room.

Tossing aside the crop, he placed his cock
at her folds and shoved himself in. She continued to cry out as if
in pain, though her cunnie, still wet from before, allowed him easy
passage despite the girth of his cock. She imagined it was Master
Gallant pounding into her.

But she was the last person at the Red
Chrysanthemum he would desire. Nay, he had said he would
not
take her were she the last woman remaining. Was she mistaken about
his arousal? She had thought his refusal to be prompted by his
loyalty to Madame or his reluctance to cross Sir Arthur, but she
had also thought she could overcome these impediments and thaw his
forbearance. If he would but surrender to her once, he would
understand that the ecstasy she promised him was no falsehood, that
a Negress need not be inferior pleasure.

Lord Wendlesson’s cock stretched her, and
she wondered if he would have availed himself of a sheep if that
was all that was present. Perhaps not. She, at least, had the
titillating form of her sex. She had breasts and hips and waist and
lips. The only significant variances between her and a proper
Englishwoman lay in the structure of her bones, the texture of her
hair and the color of her skin.

The last made all the difference.

Among their kind, she knew that she could
not compare to a flaxen-haired maid with alabaster skin. Had she
not ceased long ago to care how white men perceived her? All that
mattered was that they provided her a living and not return her to
a life of bondage. Why did she now mourn the darkness of her skin?
Why, now, did self-pity threaten to crumble years of stoicism?
Could a few simple words by Master Gallant truly throw her world
topsy-turvy?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A
t the bottom of the
stairs, Charles paused. He did not expect to hear the footsteps of
Miss Terrell behind him. If he were a betting man, he would wager
she was still up in the room, her cunnie stuffed with Wendlesson’s
thick cock. He knew not why he felt vexed at the moment. It was
none of his damned affair what Miss Terrell and Lord Wendlesson
were about. He would have advised Miss Terrell against servicing
the viscount, but as his lordship had distinguished,
he
was
not her keeper. He ought not trouble himself if she wished to risk
Sir Arthur or Madame Devereux’s displeasure.

But he could not help some responsibility in
her business with Wendlesson. He ought never had permitted her
intrusion into the instruction of Miss Katherine, though the
viscountess might not have progressed as quickly without Miss
Terrell. But what if Wendlesson demanded to have Miss Terrell again
on the morrow? Charles did not think the benefits of her
participation outweighed the potential hazards anymore.

“My articles, and have my horse ready,”
Charles said to a footman.

He was done with the Red Chrysanthemum for
the night. Looking forward to falling into his own bed at home, he
hoped no dreams of an erotic or disturbing nature would plague him
in his sleep.

After receiving his hat and gloves, he was
only too eager to depart. The longer he stayed, the more his mind
might wander to the room upstairs. In passing a parlor, however, he
glimpsed Miss Katherine, ready in her cloak, hat and gloves. She
had seen him as well.

“Master Gallant, does my husband follow
you?” she asked.

“Shortly,” Charles replied, hoping that he
spoke true. He entered the parlor and sat down. She took the settee
opposite him.

“What think you of the evening?” he asked
gently.

She immediately blushed. “What think you,
Master Gallant?”

He allowed her evasive response. “I think
you and the viscount ought be proud. In truth, I marvel at how you
have overcome your timidity.”

She looked down at the hands in her lap. “It
did please me to have Edmund here tonight. And your demonstration
first upon Miss Terrell did put me at ease.”

Charles smiled, but it was a tight smile. He
said nothing of his desire to terminate the services of Miss
Terrell.

“Do you think his lordship is satisfied with
tonight’s instruction?” she inquired.

“If he does not fully appreciate your
progress tonight, he will.” He paused, wondering how much he should
intrude into marital affairs. “Regardless, you are to be commended.
That
you
are satisfied is paramount.”

She smiled. “I would never have thought…yet
I think the blindfold was of infinite use.”

“Good.”

“I owe my improvement to your exceptional
direction.”

“I did very little, Miss Katherine. You
remembered to ask permission to spend. You remembered to use the
safety word when you required. You surrendered your body to
pleasure. You did all these things.”

She looked at him with bright eyes. “I only
wish I did not have to utter my safety word. I could not be like
Miss Terrell. She must be quite brave to refuse the need for
one.”

“Miss Terrell is…unique. You must not make
her your comparison. I do not know her well enough to say if her
words are true or boastful hyperbole.”

A brief silence fell between them before she
asked, “I wonder what delays my husband?”

He had begun to put on his gloves and was
glad for the occupation. This was why he did not engage with
husbands and wives.

“We each of us have our trials to overcome,”
he said before his lack of a response might draw suspicion.

Puzzled, she knit her brows.

Though reluctant to divulge the personal
matters of another, he decided, for her sake, it was better she
knew.

“Some men find it harder to spend,” he said
simply.

“Ah, yes, I wish—I tried—I would I were not
scared. Is he much displeased then?”

“I cannot serve as his interpreter or his
messenger, but when you feel the time is right, when you think him
in a good disposition, you might wish to broach the subject. You
see what he is partial to. That you would attempt to satisfy him in
this regard speaks greatly to your dedication as his wife and to
your
courage.”

They both turned at the sound of heavy
footsteps. The viscount appeared on the threshold.

“There you are,” Wendlesson said to his
wife. His eyes narrowed upon seeing Charles.

“I was merely praising Miss Katherine for
her efforts this evening,” Charles said, rising to his feet. “If
you have more to add, I leave that to your discretion.”

Lord Wendlesson colored, but Charles gave
him little time to respond. With a curt bow to the two of them, he
exited the room. To his relief, he did not cross paths with Miss
Terrell.

No dreams troubled his sleep that night, but
he slept fitfully all the same and awoke with the dawn. He had no
set obligations for the day and decided to pay a visit to his
mother and father at Ashlington House. The distance to Porter’s
Hill afforded him ample time to think on what more he could do for
his election. There were still many voters to canvass and many
others to influence.

Eventually his mind came to rest upon the
Red Chrysanthemum and Miss Terrell. Miss Katherine had surprised
him with her improvement. Perhaps she would not need Miss Terrell
tonight. His lordship, however, might prove harder to persuade.
Charles was loath to bring the matter to Joan. The trouble was his
own doing for permitting Miss Terrell to intrude in the first
place. He shook his head. The blackamoor was an impressively
determined chit.

Recalling his words to Wendlesson last
night, he took in a relieved breath once more. For a moment last
night, he had thought she had heard everything. In truth, he had
spoken as much to convince himself as the viscount. He had not
disputed Wendlesson’s statement regarding her coloring because he
had no wish to prolong the conversation or provide any indication
to the man that he was not, as suspected, immune to her charms. Her
blackness did not disturb him, and he found Wendlesson’s comment,
she is tolerable
, to be a dreadful understatement. She had
not the classic beauty he or Wendlesson would have sought in her
sex, but she was more
provocative
than any woman he knew.
She did not hide her vanity behind a coquettish fan but boldly
asserted the self-knowledge of her advantages. The most
accomplished flirt would take days to accomplish what Miss Terrell
did in seconds.

Granted, the Red Chrysanthemum gave her
leave to behave in a manner even she might refrain from in more
refined settings, but even at the Inn, Charles knew no one like
her. She surprised and unnerved, and if he were brutally honest
with himself, she frightened him no trivial amount.
That
was
perhaps the reason he would take any other submissive above her. He
had no doubts that he could control another submissive, man or
woman, but Miss Terrell was a panther he wondered he could
tame.

At Ashlington House, he was received first
by Mrs. Gallant, who greeted him with the glow of a mother’s
affection, receiving him as if she had not seen him in a month
instead of a sennight. Though greying and more wrinkled about the
eyes, she still retained her beauty. Charles had her eyes and long,
full lashes, as well as the soft golden locks of her youth.

“I would have come a sooner, but Sir Canning
was in town early,” he said after he had kissed her with equal
affection but greater reserve.

“I know you to be busy,” she replied,
patting his hand as she drew him to take a seat in the drawing
room. “Your father awoke early and is taking a nap.”

“No need to rouse him. I will stay till he
wakes.”

“How fared your meeting with Mr. Dempsey?
You met with him yesterday, did you not?”

“He assured me his support.”

“But how wonderful!”

Mrs. Gallant instructed a maid to bring tea
and refreshment.

“I had breakfast before I came,” Charles
informed his mother.

“And what manner of repast was it? You will
have a proper meal here.”

He knew better than to protest further. His
mother was as stubborn a woman as could be had with her sex.

“Was Miss Dempsey in attendance when you
visited with Mr. Dempsey?”

“I had not mentioned I called at their
house, but, yes, both Miss Dempsey and Mrs. Dempsey were at
home.”

“Miss Dempsey is rather pretty, is she not?
I wondered some young bachelor had not offered for her the very
year she had her come-out.”

“Perhaps one did.”

“She would have been wise to turn him down
then. If his devotion be steadfast, another year would prove it,
but she would be better off waiting.”

“Miss Dempsey will not want for
suitors.”

“Indeed? And does she find favor in your
eyes?”

He’d known the question to be forthcoming
and smiled. “She is pretty, and her manners pleasant enough, but
you, of all people, must comprehend what I seek in a mate.”

Mrs. Gallant pursed her lips. “And how are
you to find any such mate if you are gone? To China, no less! And
for such a long time.” She shook her head. “I still do not
understand why you felt such a need to travel half the world
away.”

He raised his brows. “Do you not, my
dear?”

“Well, I understand why your father had to,
but you did not.”

“Father spoke of it as a most wondrous
place.”

“Macartney was less than impressed, if I
recall, save for the Great Wall.”

“Which I desired to see, and it is every bit
as grand as described, but I would have been hard-pressed to travel
had I been married. China is no place to bring a wife.”