Sinful Seduction (27 page)

Maggie's unhappy thoughts were interrupted by a peremptory knock on the door. Before she had time to answer, it swung open and Mrs Grimes appeared. ‘The master will be with you directly,' she announced, stony faced. ‘He wishes you to wear the red dress.' Duty done, she turned and walked out.

Maggie stuck out her tongue at the closed door. The woman made no secret of her contempt; she had never forgiven Maggie for the dismissal of her precious nephew and took her revenge by obeying Lord Anston's orders to the letter. Maggie's food and washing water were invariably cold, her fire was always on the verge of extinction, and her candles burnt down to the stump before they were replaced.

Still, that was the least of her worries, and a wave of anxious nausea washed over her. If she was to wear the obscene red dress it meant that once again he intended to indulge his depravities, but reluctantly she went to the wardrobe, pulled it out and slipped it over her naked body. It clung to her like a second skin, the bodice cut to reveal her breasts completely, the skirt split to the waist so that every movement uncovered her sex, but despite all this she felt the familiar wicked stirrings between her thighs at the thought of what was to come.

And she didn't have long to wait. She had barely seated herself on the edge of the bed before the door swung open again and he strode in. The last few months had had their effect on him as well; his face held an almost unearthly pallor, the little flesh on his bones had melted away and his eyes glittered with a feverish brightness, like the last flare of a candle before it flickered out.

Maggie barely had time to register this before he was on her, his hands seeking her firm breasts, his mouth swooping down on hers as he forced his tongue between her lips, but suddenly he stiffened and pulled away and she stared at him with shameful disappointment. Had he spent his seed so soon?

But as she looked up at him his gaunt face contorted in anguish and a grunt of pain escaped his lips as he clutched his chest. As she watched in horror he swayed, staggered, then collapsed slowly to the carpet.

Maggie immediately knew what had happened, and for a brief moment she was tempted to watch and let him die - but she couldn't. Instead she tugged frantically on the bell-pull.

‘Fetch a doctor!' she snapped at the first servant to appear, and then fell to her knees beside him. ‘God damn you,' she said as she beat his chest. ‘Don't you dare die!'

 

‘I did warn him,' said the doctor, shaking his head as he closed his bag. He stared disapprovingly at Maggie and she pulled her shawl tighter over her naked breasts. ‘With his weak heart it was only a matter of time if he didn't change his way of life.'

‘How long?' she asked.

The doctor shrugged. ‘A week... perhaps a fortnight. Who knows? There's nothing left to do but take care of him and hope for the best.'

For the next few nights Maggie barely rested, sitting beside his bed, frightened each laboured breath would be his last. What would she do without him? Return to Mrs Wilkes? Be passed on to someone even more depraved?

Finally exhaustion overtook her and she crept away to her own room and the blessed relief of sleep.

 

‘Get up,' snapped Mrs Grimes, shaking Maggie roughly. ‘The master wishes to see you immediately. There's no time to waste.' Panic-stricken, Maggie flung on her dressing gown and ran along the landing. At the door of his room she stopped. He was sitting up, propped up on pillows, and beside him stood a tall man she didn't recognise.

‘Ah, come in, my dear,' Anston croaked feebly. ‘This gentleman has come to do a little service for you.'

Maggie stared at him in dismay. Was there no end to his depravity? Did he intend to lie on his deathbed and watch her perform with another man?

Her feelings must have shown on her face, because he chuckled, but was quickly reduced to a bout of wheezy coughing. ‘Come, come,' he eventually managed to chide once he'd recovered a little. ‘A bride should look happy on her wedding day.'

For a moment she was speechless. ‘What... what do you mean?' she asked warily.

‘Exactly what I said,' he croaked. ‘This gentleman is the Reverend Carstairs and he has come to join us in holy matrimony.'

Anger swamped her. How dare he torment her like this? ‘Are you mad?' she said. ‘This isn't some story from Peg's Paper. No gentleman marries his whore! What would people say?'

‘They can say whatever they like,' he mused, his eyes glinting mischievously. ‘I won't be around to hear them.'

‘Oh, I see, atoning for your sins at the last minute, are you? Going to buy your way into heaven?'

‘You underestimate me, my dear,' he grinned. ‘Heaven sounds remarkably boring to me. I think I shall fit in much better in hell, don't you?' He coughed. ‘I have only one heir, my nephew, who is a sanctimonious, disapproving prig.' He began to chuckle again. ‘What better final joke can I play than to disinherit him by marrying a cheap slut from the gutter?'

He waved a bony hand at the reverend. ‘Now get a move on man, I haven't much time left.'

When he died later that night, Maggie was left Lady Anston, heiress to one of the largest fortunes in England.

 

 

 

It took several days and a visit from Lord Anston's lawyers before it finally sank in. Not only was Maggie a titled woman, but the extent of her assets exceeded her wildest dreams. There was the country estate, a town house in London - and so much money she would have to live a hundred years to spend it all!

She laid the legal papers down on her bureau and a smile danced upon her lips. Money brought power and influence, and she intended to use both to the full.

There was a discreet tap and the door and Mrs Grimes entered, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘Is there anything my lady wishes?' she simpered, bobbing a curtsey. ‘Tea? Biscuits? A glass of Madeira?'

Maggie looked at her with dislike. The woman was a hypocrite, and a thief. She ran the house on a shoestring, leaving the lower servants to go hungry while she pocketed the proceeds, and while Maggie had been helpless she'd done her best to make her life a misery. Now here she was bowing and scraping as if her very life depended on it.

And it suddenly dawned on Maggie that this was indeed the case. ‘Yes, there is something I would like,' she said slowly. ‘I'd like you to pack your bags and be out of this house.'

Mrs Grimes stared at her in shock. ‘But, my lady,' she blubbered, wringing her hands. ‘What will I do? Where will I go?'

‘Do what you like,' said Maggie, raising an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps you can join that precious nephew of yours beneath whatever rock he's crawled under. Now get out. I never want to see your wicked face again.'

Once the snivelling creature had gone, Maggie walked across the drawing room - her drawing room - and tugged the bell-pull. It was a few minutes before Sal, the young housemaid appeared, and one look at her fearful expression told Maggie that the news of her axe wielding had already spread through the servants' quarters.

‘Please don't sack me as well, ma'am,' she begged, twisting her apron between nervous fingers. ‘Mam's in the family way again and with dad out of work me family depends on me wages.'

‘Sack you? Why should I sack you? But with Mrs Grimes gone, I shall need a new housekeeper. Do you think you could do the job?'

‘Me?' squawked Sal, forgetting her awe of the new Lady Anston in her shock. ‘But I'm just one of the housemaids!' She paused. ‘Mind you,' she said thoughtfully, ‘I'm young, but I ain't stupid. I was best in me school at ‘rithmetic and I can write a fair hand. I could do the ordering and keep the household account books no bother at all.' She grinned. ‘Yes, I reckon I could manage it. You're on, girl!' Her hand flew to her mouth as she bobbed a couple of curtsies. ‘Erm... I mean thank you, your ladyship.'

‘Excellent,' smiled Maggie. She reached into the bureau, took out a casket and counted out fifty guineas. ‘There,' she said, ‘that should cover the cost of your wages, with enough left over to keep your family in comfort into the bargain, and you may tell the rest of the staff that I intend to increase their wages too.'

Sal looked from Maggie's face to the money in her hand. She'd never seen so much in her entire life. The little ‘uns would never need to go hungry again! She pinched herself to make sure it wasn't a dream, then, for the second time that morning one of Maggie's servants burst into tears. But this time tears of happiness. ‘God bless yer, ma'am,' she blurted.

‘He already has,' said Maggie. ‘Now I'd like you to send word to my townhouse.' She paused to relish the words. ‘And inform them that I shall be arriving tomorrow evening.' The smile became hard again. ‘I have some business to attend to in London.'

‘Yes ma'am, certainly ma'am,' beamed Sal, before disappearing to impart the good news to her fellow servants.

Maggie smiled after her retreating back, revelling in the pleasure of being able to reward as well as punish. Power was a heady drug!

 

The following morning found her on her way to London. Seated in her carriage, dressed in the black silk mourning dress Sal had found for her in the first Lady Anston's wardrobe, with a thick cloak and a hand warmer tucked in her fur muff, she gazed out at the passing countryside. She smiled ruefully. It was a far cry from her first journey, bound, gagged and bundled up like a pile of old rags. She passed the journey planning what she would do next.

At last the carriage drew up in front of the house, and Maggie gasped with shock. It was a huge Georgian mansion - and it was all hers! She felt like Queen Victoria herself as the entire staff lined up to welcome her. It was strange to walk up the front steps when only a few months ago she would have been turned away at the back door.

The next week flew by as she invested in an entirely new wardrobe, partly through vanity, but mostly because if she were going to be Lady Anston, then she would have to look the part. Not that society ladies were going to beat a path to her doorway, she thought ruefully, but then she didn't expect them to. Once a whore, always a whore! Still, she was hardly going to lose sleep over the opinions of a flock of spoilt, empty-headed sheep whose husbands were no better than the whores they despised. She grinned - bugger the lot of them!

On Monday morning, wrapped in a dark cloak and with her veil pulled down over her face, she climbed down from her carriage, walked up the steps of Mrs Wilkes' and raised the heavy brass knocker. After five minutes banging the door finally swung open.

‘Wot you want?' demanded a dishevelled, heavy-eyed Gladys. ‘We ain't open. Come back tonight and Mrs Wilkes'll see yer then.'

‘I think she'll see me now,' Maggie said crisply. ‘Tell her Lady Anston wishes to speak to her... immediately.'

Grumbling under breath, Gladys shuffled off, leaving Maggie standing there. Five minutes later she returned, still muttering, and led Maggie upstairs to Mrs Wilkes' inner sanctum.

For a moment Maggie stood on the threshold, remembering the night she'd been brought there, quaking in her shoes, then she shook the memories away and seated herself at Mrs Wilkes' desk. The woman eyed her speculatively. It was virtually unheard of for a society lady to even acknowledge the existence of houses like hers, let alone patronise them.

‘What can I do for you, my lady?' she asked politely.

‘I wish to purchase one of your girls,' announced Maggie. ‘Millicent Evans.'

Mrs Wilkes rose to her feet with dignity. ‘I fear you have come to the wrong place, madam,' she said icily. ‘I am no slave monger.' A little outraged dignity would help to raise the price nicely.

Maggie raised her veil. ‘Then you've changed your tune since the day you auctioned me,' she said calmly.

Mrs Wilkes sat down abruptly, and then recovering herself she leaned back and smiled. ‘Well, well, you've come up in the world,' she mused. ‘Lady Anston, indeed. There's a turn-up for the books.' The smile became voracious. ‘In that case, you can afford to pay well for Miss Evans.'

Maggie nodded. ‘I can also afford to pay well to have Jebediah and Thomas treat you the way you treated me,' she said with dangerous softness. ‘I am sure I can afford the price of their loyalty - and it would give me great pleasure to see you bound and ravished.' She smiled into the woman's horrified face. ‘But I shall forgo that pleasure on three conditions.'

‘An-and they are?' quavered Mrs Wilkes, wilting visibly.

Maggie's smile widened as she ticked them off on her fingers. ‘One, you sell me Millie at the same price Lord Anston paid for me, and you can throw in young Eddie too. Two, you will loan me Jebediah and Thomas for an evening. I shall pay a reasonable fee for their services,' she added. ‘And three, you will never take an unwilling girl into this house again.'

‘And if I don't agree?' blustered Mrs Wilkes.

‘In that case I shall have you bound, gagged and ravished fore and aft by your bullyboys,' said Maggie sweetly. ‘Then I shall pay the magistrates to make sure this house is closed and you are flung out in the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back.' Her expression hardened. ‘I think you'll find a return to whoring a little hard at your age. Now, do we have a deal, or not?'