Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (22 page)

Mrs. Gallant had to concede that to be the
case. “And have you a prospect for a wife?”

The maid entered with tea, and Charles was
glad for the distraction. He had wanted to see his parents, though
not to discuss his marital situation. But Mrs. Gallant would not
let the subject go easily.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Alas, I must disappoint you.”

She frowned. “I hope you will not be like
your brother. I have all but forsaken hope that he will ever marry,
though I should not be surprised if he brings home some native
woman from an island somewhere.”

Michael, Charles’ senior by four years, was
a naval captain.

“You are my better hope, dear Charles.”

He drank his tea. The beverage reminded him
of China, the East India Company, and Sir Arthur.

“I would not necessarily lay the odds in my
favor,” he said.

“But you are a fine prospect, worthy of even
Miss Dempsey. When you are an MP, it will be even more so.”

“Till she discovers my wicked and wanton
predilections in the bedchamber.”

“Oh,
that
.” Mrs. Gallant waved a
dismissive hand. “Have you not had your fill?”

His cup stopped midway to his mouth. “Have
you?”

“My situation differs. Your father and I are
birds of a feather.”

“And I would my situation to liken yours. I
would have a wife who shares my penchants.”

“And is there someone at the Red
Chrysanthemum to whom you are partial?”

He thought of Greta. “There was, but she
left and is unknown to return.”

Mrs. Gallant, being his mother, caught the
wistfulness in his tone. She put her hand over his. “If she cannot
appreciate all your admirable qualities, she is not worthy.”

“She is worthy, my dear, but the heart is
not always persuaded by qualities.”

“Is there another young woman whom you might
consider?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Mrs. Gallant sighed. “Your father and I were
fortunate to have found each other at the Red Chrysanthemum. I
believe it a rare happenstance. The Red Chrysanthemum is not a
place to seek and find love.”

“At present, it is a seat in Parliament I
seek.”

“And which you shall obtain.”

This was spoken by Mr. William Gallant, who
had come into the room. The senior Gallant, now seventy years of
age, had married later in life to a woman ten years his junior,
but, perhaps because he had taken his time in choosing a wife and
because he had attained the sort of wisdom only time and experience
could proffer, the affection and devotion between the two were
stronger than any Charles had witnessed or heard of in other
husbands and wives. It was the sort of marriage he wanted for
himself.

“I had received a letter from Mr. Dempsey
that he is inclined to back your candidacy,” finished the senior
Gallant.

“And Charles confirms it is done,” Mrs.
Gallant said, rising to assist her husband.

“Well done. And have you heard from the
Brentwoods?”

“They have not extended a meeting as of
yet,” Charles replied, thinking of Lord Wendlesson’s offer and that
the viscount may not renew it after the events of the prior
evening.

“Their endorsement is less important if you
have the support of Sir Arthur. I have written several friends who
are acquainted with him, and they hope to persuade him, though they
say he is not easy to please. Had I taken more of an interest in
India instead of China, I might have made more of a fortune for
myself. I could have returned to England a Nabob, like Sir Arthur’s
father. The senior Arthur was near penniless. Now they are among
the wealthiest families in the land.”

“We do well enough, father. And my interests
lie in matters of policy more than riches.”

“Alas, you are a son too much after my own
heart.”

“In far too many ways,” said Mrs. Gallant.
“Perhaps we ought not have introduced him to the Red
Chrysanthemum.”

“
That
was your doing, my dear.”

“She could not prevent it,” Charles reminded
them. “She knew not I followed her.”

After returning from Cambridge, Charles had
stayed with his parents in town. One night he had returned late
from meeting a friend at a gaming hall and saw his mother, dressed
in dark clothing as if to blend into the night, emerge from the
Gallant house. Where she could have been headed at such an hour, he
could not fathom, lest she had herself a paramour. His mother and
father shared every confidence. There could be no reason for her to
steal away into the night lest it be for a clandestine tryst. She
had walked with purpose for several blocks to a corner where a
sedan awaited her. Charles had followed her all the way to the Red
Chrysanthemum, his mind churning in disbelief that his mother, who
seemed devoted to her husband, would make of her beloved a
cuckold.

He had attempted to follow her into the
building, but the imposing footman at the door would not permit him
entry. He had waited for his mother in grave disappointment and
some anger at her betrayal and grief that she found it necessary to
seek the affections of another man.

“I remember well the night my own son
accused me of criminal congress!” said Mrs. Gallant. To her
husband, she said, “It was
your
idea to meet at the Red
Chrysanthemum as if we were strangers.”

William Gallant grinned. “Ah, yes, it was
good sport, was it not? I thought you rather enjoyed the
charade.”

“Till our son confronted me!”

“My dear,” Charles said to his mother, “the
truth was a thousand times better than the prospect of adultery to
me.”

“But you did not immediately believe me when
I explained that I had met with your father.” She turned to her
husband. “You were gone when he demanded I prove myself, leaving me
to explain the whole situation to him.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” said Charles’
father.

“A mother should never have to undergo such
an awkward situation!”

Charles took her hand. “It was fortunate it
was you. I would not have believed a woman could take pleasure in
the activities at the Red Chrysanthemum. Just as I thought you an
adulteress, I would have thought father an ogre, forcing his poor
wife to submit to his cruel wickedness. I was ready to think my
father an abominable brute.”

Mrs. Gallant shook her head. “I never
thought my gentle Charles would take to the Red Chrysanthemum with
such interest. Your brother, if he had known, would not have
surprised me. I had thought you would easily find a sweet young
woman to marry and settle into an ordinary life and provide me at
least two grandchildren by now.”

She let out a heavy sigh.

“My love,” said William, “we cannot place
expectations upon him that we would not have tolerated for
ourselves.”

“Do you not wish to see your
grandchild?”

Knowing she worried that perhaps his father
might not survive long enough, Charles pressed her hand. “I will
make a concentrated effort at matrimony after the election,” he
assured her.

She brightened. “Perhaps, if your father is
in good health, we could come to town at the start of the Season. I
could call upon Mrs. Dempsey and thank her for their support of
you.”

“Do you think Mr. Dempsey to have any
influence upon Sir Arthur?” asked the senior Gallant.

Charles said nothing. He did not know which
subject he wished to converse less upon, marriage or Sir
Arthur.

“I doubt it,” Charles answered. “Sir Arthur
makes his own decisions.”

“He is very much interested in expanding
trade in China.”

“Of course. The trade is lucrative for the
Company and could be made more so if they did not need to send all
the revenues they collect in India to support their commerce with
China.”

“The emperor still demands silver?”

“Yes. The Chinese are no more impressed with
our goods and products today than they were when you and Macartney
visited.”

“Nevertheless, your recent travels to China
must provide Sir Arthur valuable insight.”

“I do not think Sir Arthur and I would agree
to much.”

“Do not underestimate what you may have in
common.”

Charles said nothing. The only thing the two
men might have in common was the reaction of their cocks when Miss
Terrell was near.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T
errell observed the
outline of his hardened cock against his trousers.

“I will have your cunnie tonight, Miss
Terrell,” Sir Arthur said. “Not Miss Isabella’s. Yours.”

She had anticipated this and was prepared to
honor his demand. She wore her customary attire. Some men required
more provocation, but Sir Arthur’s arousal needed no coaxing.

“And you will have it, Sir,” she said, “but
let us build the anticipation, that you may spend with force.”

“I have not all evening,” he replied. “I am
to have dinner with two of the Company Directors on an important
matter. I anticipate long hours of discussion.”

“How much time have you here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

She feigned a pout to hide how much she
welcomed the news. “I am to have so little of your time?”

“My apologies,” he said, though she could
tell he was not at all sorry.

“Fear not. I can do much in twenty
minutes.”

He smiled. “I had a feeling you could.”

“You may have my cunnie, Sir Arthur, if you
can catch me first.”

He raised his brows. The room was not large,
and he doubtlessly thought her easy prey. But she was young and
limber. When he moved toward her, she easily put the settee between
them.

“You wish to play games, Miss Terrell?” he
asked.

He seemed mildly amused but also a little
exasperated. It was difficult to interpret the man for he often
appeared displeased.

“Games can heighten excitement, Sir Arthur.
Think of how much grander your victory will be when you have
expended some effort in its attainment.”

“You are a clever little blackamoor.”

He set down his cane, and his eyes narrowed
to anticipate her move.

She tossed her hair back. “I await, Sir
Arthur.”

He moved to his right, but she was ready for
him. He returned to the center and made an attempt to lunge for her
over the settee. She escaped him easily and stood behind the chair
she had once tied him to.

“Teasing doxy,” he grunted.

He feinted left but then leaped to the
right. Her agility enabled her to recover in time, and she ran back
to the settee. He stumbled over a footstool in his haste to reach
her and cursed.

“Come, we use valuable time,” she
taunted.

He circled round the settee, but they only
succeeded in exchanging positions. After several minutes, they were
both breathing harder. His eyes blazed with frustration. She had an
eye to the clock above the mantle and knew she would allow him to
catch her soon enough, but
he
did not know this. With a
roar, he grabbed one end of the settee and shoved it aside so that
it could no longer serve as a barrier. In that time, she had
retreated toward the bed. He advanced. She climbed over the bed
with the ease of a squirrel moving among the trees. He had not her
quickness, and she stood safely on the opposite side, holding onto
a bedpost.

“Damned slattern, I did not pay to be
taunted,” he huffed.

She discerned his patience to be at an end.
They now had but ten minutes. She made a curt move to the right. He
tried to dodge over the bed. She moved to the left. He scrambled up
and dashed around the end of the bed. She returned to the right,
though there was nowhere to go but the head of the bed and the
wall, and tried to scramble over the bed. He caught her, shoving
her against the headboard. The side of her head struck the wood,
and she was momentarily dazed. He yanked her head back by her
hair.

“I wonder that you’ll play games with me
after this, Miss Terrell,” he growled from behind.

She felt him fumble with his fall. Her
skirts were thrown over her waist, and seconds later, after poking
her and missing his intended target a few times, he plunged himself
into her. She allowed him to pommel his cock into her. Aroused by
the primitive chase, she was moist, and his lack of attention to
her pleasure did not perturb her. But his rough yanking of her hair
was a little alarming. In his fury, he might not know if he snapped
her neck. He drove his hips at her, seeking his own
fulfillment.

She decided it was better that he spend
soon. She flexed her cunnie along his member. He grunted. With a
final howl, like that of a dying animal, he began to shudder
against her. She could feel his seed spread within her.

When he pulled out of her, she felt a surge
of relief. He was not a large man, but he was still stronger than
she. The superior might of his sex did not often frighten her, but
she wondered that she could trust him to contain the use of his
strength. There was a hint of uninhibited violence in his
motions.

Free of his hold, she turned around to face
him. He was panting and had to lean against the bedpost for
support.

“And we have two minutes to spare,” she
said. “You may not have enjoyed the sport, but I think you will
agree that you spent with greater glory as a result of it.”

He said nothing. Straightening, he replaced
his fall. When he had composed himself and smoothed back his hair,
he took up his cane and approached her.

“Clever Negress,” he said with a playful
pinch of her chin. “Perhaps I will reconsider your little games.
Till tomorrow, Miss Terrell.”

He adjusted his cravat and took his leave.
She watched him depart and was reminded that she needed to proceed
with more caution with the man. She sat upon the bed a while,
feeling his seed trickle from her. She was a little sore there for
he had not waited or sought for her cunnie to lubricate itself. Her
cunnie had taken two cocks in less than four and twenty hours time,
yet neither had been that of Master Gallant.