Sinful Seduction (7 page)

Fortified by food, Maggie was more optimistic. The morning had been a storm in a teacup. She set her lips. She'd put him right out of her head, forget what had happened and avoid both father and son as much as possible. She smiled; she'd be back to her own job once Emily recovered from her toothache, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

But she was wrong.

 

 

 

‘Young Master Jeremy just can't get enough of my home cooking,' beamed Mrs McAllister. ‘He's never out of the kitchen. That's the second time he's been down today.'

Maggie avoided her eyes and concentrated on goffering the flounces on Lady Georgina's blouse. She didn't need to be told. Every time he appeared her heart skipped a beat and once, when no one was looking, he'd grinned at her and winked.

She blushed. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had taken to coming into Lady Georgina's bedroom when she was doing her hair - ostensibly to keep his mother company, but in reality to watch Maggie as she worked. Aware of his eyes on her, she made mistake after mistake until Lady Georgina lost her temper.

‘For heaven's sake, girl!' she snapped. ‘What's wrong with you? You're as clumsy as an ox.'

‘Yes, m'm,' she muttered, secretly wishing she could box his ears as easily as she boxed Thomas'. ‘Sorry m'm,'

So it was a relief when her half-day next came round and she could get away from the house for an afternoon.

‘Wot you gonna do, then?' asked Emily, admiring Maggie in her best frock.

Maggie smiled. ‘I'm going to do exactly the same as I was when my last half-day got cancelled,' she said. ‘I'm going to ‘ave a walk round the market and buy meself a new ‘at. Then I'm going ter ‘ave a nice stroll in the park, and afterwards I'm going ter treat meself to a visit to the music hall.'

‘Lucky bugger,' said Emily glumly. ‘I ain't off again for three weeks.' She grinned. ‘And just you behave yourself, my girl. No picking up soldiers in the park. You know what her ladyship says about followers.' She rolled her eyes. ‘All right for her though; she's already got herself a husband and a title.' She pulled a face. ‘Mind you, I wouldn't ‘ave ‘im. Can you imagine that fat old git putting his hands all over yer? It's enough to turn yer stomach!'

Maggie suppressed a shudder. She didn't need to imagine it, she'd already felt his podgy fingers prying and prodding at her. She dismissed the horrible memory, determined not to let it spoil her day. ‘Right, that's me off,' she announced. ‘See you later.'

‘‘Ave a good time then,' said Emily. ‘Don't do anything I wouldn't.' She giggled. ‘And remember - if you can't be good, be careful.'

‘I will,' said Maggie.

It was sheer bliss to be a lady of leisure and wander at will without being at the beck and call of Lady Georgina. The market was a riot of colours and smells, with costermongers bellowing their wares and ragamuffins dodging in and out of the crowd. Women with scruffy children hanging onto their skirts tried to find the best bargains to eke out their meagre supply of coppers. Maggie savoured it all. She spent a pleasant half hour at a hat stall, trying on one after the other before finally deciding on a pert straw boater with a pale blue ribbon of watered silk. With the parcel tucked under her arm, she treated herself to a bag of whelks to eat in the park.

Sitting in the shade she watched the world go by. Starched nannies with their high prams and well dressed charges. Toffs out for a stroll. Young couples holding hands. Red-coated soldiers who gave her the eye or winked as they walked past.

The hours flew by until it was time for the matinee at the music hall, so wiping her hands on the grass to remove the smell of fish and vinegar she picked up her parcel and made her way towards the omnibus stop.

Outside the music hall, she hesitated. It was the first time she'd been and she'd have preferred it if Emily had been able to come with her. Some employers had forbidden their servants to go - and what if she was accosted? Or even worse, picked up by a white slaver? She shivered as she remembered the horrible stories she'd heard about innocent girls being slipped Mickey Finns and waking up from their drugged sleep to find themselves trapped in a life of shame.

A couple of girls her own age pushed past, giggling, and she shook herself. If they weren't worried, then neither was she. Marching up to the ticket booth she handed over her sixpence and walked through the ornate doors of the theatre. It was like walking into another world; a world of plush red velvet and gold, of pillars and balconies and sconces and fat gold cherubs that perched on every available surface. She stood stock still with her mouth open, trying to take it all in at once.

‘Impressive, isn't it?' said a familiar voice behind her, and she almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled round and found herself staring up at Master Jeremy.

‘Wh-what are you doing here?' she demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I paid my sixpence, just like you,' he said. ‘After all, a fellow's got to have some entertainment.' He rolled his eyes. ‘If I'd had to spend another afternoon making polite conversation over tea with mamma's friends and their simpering daughters, I'd have run mad.'

Maggie suppressed a giggle; since he'd come home Lady Georgina's ‘at home' days had been particularly well attended, as mothers touted their marriageable daughters as shamelessly as gypsies at a horse fair. No wonder he'd done a runner!

‘Well, my lady,' he grinned, holding out an arm. ‘The performance is about to begin. Shall we take a seat?'

For a moment she hesitated, then threw caution to the winds. What harm could it do? They were only going to watch a show - not run off together. ‘Thank you, kind sir,' she smiled, accepting the proffered arm.

The next hours flew past as they shared a bag of chestnuts and laughed at the comic turns, watched the jugglers and fire-eaters in awe and enjoyed the music together. When the curtains closed on the last act, Maggie sagged with disappointment.

‘I wish it could have gone on forever,' she sighed. ‘But I'd better get off home now.'

‘We could always go for supper,' suggested Master Jeremy, and she stared at him in astonishment.

‘Me? Go to supper with you?' She shook her head. ‘It wouldn't be fitting. I'm your mother's maid.'

‘So?' he grinned. ‘Maids have to eat as well, don't they?'

‘I suppose so,' she said reluctantly.

‘Well then, that's settled,' he said. ‘I know this nice little oyster bar. We can go there,' and before Maggie had time to change her mind he whisked her out of the theatre and into a hansom cab.

‘Here we are,' he said after a short ride, rapping for the cabbie to stop. Helping her down he led her inside, and for the second time that day her mouth dropped open in astonishment. The decor was almost as ornate as that of the theatre, and tables set with gleaming crystal and glittering cutlery filled almost two thirds of the room. A long mahogany bar took up the other third. But it was the people who caught her attention. The men were dressed in formal black - but the women! Dressed in vivid satin dresses of every hue, with lace shawls and feathered fans, they laughed and chattered and flaunted their finery like an aviary of exotic birds. In her lilac print dress Maggie felt as out of place as a violet in a bouquet of hothouse flowers.

‘I can't stay here,' she protested, shrinking back. ‘Look at me; I'm not dressed properly.'

He looked at her seriously. ‘Believe me, you'd be twice as pretty as any woman here, even if you were wearing a sack,' he assured her. ‘But if it worries you so much, we can soon sort that.' He clicked his fingers and a waiter came rushing up. ‘The lady and I would like a private room,' he said.

‘Certainly, sir,' said the waiter politely. ‘Right away, if you'll just follow me.' He led them through the throng to a door hidden behind a blue velvet curtain with gold swags. Maggie felt a pang of unease as she mounted the richly carpeted staircase. What on earth did she think she was playing at? She should be home by now, not going to supper with the master's son. What if this was a house of assignation and she was being led to a bedroom?

‘Here we are,' announced the waiter, throwing open a door, and she sighed with relief. It wasn't some tart's boudoir after all. It was a perfectly ordinary room with a long settee along one wall and a table set for two in the middle. The waiter pulled out a gilded chair for her as if she was the queen herself, and she sat down and smiled at Master Jeremy as he took the one opposite her.

‘Cor, this is lovely,' she beamed.

‘Just wait till you taste the food,' he smiled back, and nodded to the waiter. ‘We'll have oysters and champagne,' he said.

Maggie gasped. ‘Champagne? Ain't that expensive?' She'd rather have had a nice cup of tea. The only alcohol she'd ever drunk had been the odd glass of sherry at Christmas in the servant's hall - and it had been horrible. She'd taken one sip and poured it into Mrs McAllister's glass.

‘Worth every penny,' said Master Jeremy. ‘In fact, let's push the boat out.' He smiled at the waiter. ‘Make that two bottles.'

When it came Maggie sipped it gingerly, then smiled. ‘It's lovely,' she agreed. ‘Like lemonade only fizzy.' She emptied her glass and giggled as he refilled it. ‘You'll get me tiddly,' she protested - but drank it all the same.

By the end of the meal she felt she was floating. It didn't seem to matter any more that she was just a maid and he was the master's son. They were just two people - a man and a woman. She watched as he tilted his head back and opened his mouth to swallow another oyster and felt a prickle of heat at the base of her belly. What would it be like to feel those lips touch hers?

‘I think I'd better get off home now,' she muttered, pushing her chair back and standing up. She staggered a little. ‘Ooooh, I've come over all dizzy,' she giggled. ‘Must be them oysters.'

He leapt to his feet and took her arm to steady her. ‘Are you all right?' he asked.

‘I'm fine,' she said, then staggered again - and was lost. Her knees weakened as his arms went round her and she felt the hard planes of his body pressed against her. She sighed, her head tipped back, her lips parting in anticipation, and he needed no second invitation. With a moan he pulled her tighter against him, his hungry mouth possessing hers, his tongue eagerly exploring. She could feel his growing hardness pressing against her belly and sighed again.

A hand was fumbling at the small buttons at her neck, undoing them one by one until he could push her dress from her shoulders. It slid down her body and tangled at her feet. He pulled off her chemise and tugged at the laces on her corset. It joined the dress on the floor and she stood before him in only her pantaloons and stockings. He eased her pantaloons down over her hips until only her black stockings remained.

For a moment her senses returned and she attempted to cover her nakedness.

‘Don't do that,' he panted, pulling her hands away. ‘I want to look at you.' He feasted his eyes on her, gazing at her full breasts, the soft pink nipples hard with a mixture of cold and excitement, and then trailing down to the narrow waist that curved into generous hips. Her stockings were shockingly black against her trembling white thighs and his eyes focused on the V of silky hair that nestled between them. With a groan he began ripping at his own clothes until he was as naked as she, and a bolt of fright ran through her as she saw the full length of his prick, its massive head purple and shiny. He couldn't put that inside her! He would split her open! She backed away until her legs bumped against the settee and there was nowhere else to run.

Then his hands were on her again, soothing her as if she were a skittish horse. His fingers toyed with the swollen buds of her nipples, teasing the delicate flesh, feeling them harden even more. She gasped as he bent his head and his tongue traced the same path as he suckled first one and then the other. Her tightly clenched thighs loosened as the secret place between her thighs began to grow hot and wet.

He moaned again, took her hand and placed it on his cock, rubbing it gently up and down until her fingers closed around it. She marvelled at how it felt; such a strange sensation of powerful, silky hardness. As her hand moved on him he groaned and pushed her back onto the settee and parted her legs to reveal the glistening slit of her sex, and Maggie closed her eyes and braced herself for the onslaught.

But it didn't come. Instead he bent his head, held her open like a ripe fig and explored the soft pink flesh with his mouth. ‘The sweetest oyster of all,' he murmured as he lapped at the hard crest of her clitoris, and against her will her hips began to writhe as she pushed herself against the tormenting tongue, then she gasped as he slid first one finger, then two, inside her, moving them in and out, slowly at first, then faster.

‘Please,' she begged, not even knowing what she was asking for. ‘Please...' He raised himself and knelt between her thighs, grinning down at her rapaciously, his lips and moustache coated with her juices. Taking himself in one hand he spread her sex open and pushed the head of his cock against the swollen lips, watching as it disappeared inside her, inch by slow inch.