Sinful Seduction (9 page)

With a groan, Maggie swung her legs out of bed. Every bone in her body ached with tiredness and she felt as if she hadn't slept for a fortnight. Yawning, she hauled herself across to the washstand and gave herself a lick and a promise before dragging on her clothes. Then, still tucking her hair under her cap, she hurried downstairs.

‘About time too, miss,' sniffed Mrs McAlister. ‘Her ladyship's been ringing her bell this last ten minutes.' She pointed to the tray on the table. ‘Take that up this minute before she has a fit of the vapours.' Still yawning, Maggie did as she was told.

For once, Lady Georgina was awake before noon. When Maggie pushed open the bedroom door she was already sitting up in bed, her greying hair in a thin plait over her shoulders. ‘About time too,' she snapped, unconsciously echoing Mrs McAlister.

‘Sorry, ma'am,' Maggie apologised, setting the laden tray on her ladyship's lap and lifting the metal covers from the breakfast dishes to reveal a heaped plateful of kedgeree.

‘Humph,' muttered Lady Georgina, poking at it. She rolled her eyes. ‘With Master Jeremy leaving I can barely face a thing,' she complained. ‘I have no more appetite than a bird.' Maggie wondered idly what kind of a bird that might be? A bloody big one going by the way she was shovelling it in!

Finished, her ladyship gave a genteel belch. ‘Take it away,' she ordered imperiously. ‘Then you can come back and help me dress.' She simpered. ‘I must look my best to say goodbye to my son.'

Maggie's heart plummeted to her buttoned boots. Until now it hadn't actually sunk in that he was really leaving, that she didn't know when - if ever - she would see him again. He might be sent off to some far-flung part of the empire to fight the hostile natives. Suppressing the lump in her throat, she bobbed a curtsey and lifted the tray, turning away quickly in case Lady Georgina saw the tears in her eyes.

When she returned her mistress was already at her toilette and impatiently waiting for her to do her hair. Maggie's stomach rumbled with a mixture of nerves and hunger as she helped her into a burgundy silk morning gown, so tight her ladyship could hardly breathe. ‘Stupid dressmaker,' she panted, fanning her flushed cheeks. ‘She has made my dress too small.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' Maggie agreed dutifully.

There was a knock at the door and Master Jeremy entered. Maggie blushed and lowered her eyes as she remembered the way they'd pleasured each other shamelessly such a few short hours before. ‘Good morning, mamma,' he said, kissing his mother dutifully. ‘Good morning, Carter.' She sketched a brief curtsey.

‘You may leave now, girl,' ordered Lady Georgina. ‘And take my ball gown with you. Two buttons need replacing and one of the flounces needs mending.'

‘Yes, my lady,' said Maggie. She picked up the heavy dress, draped it neatly over her arms and went towards the door.

‘Here, let me help you,' said Jeremy, gallantly moving to open it for her, and half concealed behind it, he stole one last kiss.

‘For heaven's sake, Jeremy,' his mother snapped irritably. ‘The girl's only a servant; she can open doors for herself.'

Scarlet with humiliation, Maggie hurried downstairs and took out her feelings by banging the flat iron furiously over her ladyship's mended ball gown and wishing her fat body was still inside it.

 

The rest of the morning passed in a whirl of activity as the trunks were carried up from the cellar and carefully packed with freshly washed linen and newly pressed uniforms. Mrs McAlister, wiping tears from her plump cheeks with a floury hand, produced one final batch of ‘Master Jeremy's biscuits' to be wrapped, along with a game pie and a massive fruit cake, and added to the growing pile of luggage in the hall.

Finally everything was done, and Emily's excited face appeared around the kitchen door. ‘He's leaving now,' she squeaked. ‘The carriage is here.' She glared at Maggie. ‘Come on, the mending'll keep. We're all to line up in the hall to say goodbye.'

Smoothing down her skirts, Maggie hurried up the kitchen stairs to take her place, her eyes eagerly drinking in the last sight of him as he walked along the line of servants, with a handshake, a word of thanks - and a tip - for each of them. When he reached her she felt a folded sheet of paper pressed into her palm as he shook her hand. Suppressing her excitement, she dutifully bobbed a curtsey as he passed on to the next in line. As soon as he was gone, she'd nip to the privy, tuck it into her bosom and read it the next time she had the chance to be alone.

But this happy thought was suddenly banished by a feeling of unease. Glancing up, she caught Lord Edward staring at her, his wet lips twisted in a knowing leer. He smiled lecherously, his eyes running over her body, then his tongue came out and, slowly and deliberately, he licked his thick purple lips.

Maggie shivered and turned back to Master Jeremy - but he was gone. All she could see was his back as he climbed into the carriage, then a strong hand waving from the window as it drove away. She closed her eyes and shuddered as a feeling of dread washed through her. Lord Edward couldn't know their secret.

Could he?

 

 

 

‘Wot's up with your face?' demanded Emily. ‘You've got a phizz as long as a wet week of Sundays.' She regarded Maggie thoughtfully. ‘Come to think of it, you've been as miserable as sin for the last fortnight.' She grinned wickedly. ‘I know wot's wrong with yer. Yer pining for Master Jeremy, that's wot it is!' She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Oooh, Jeremy,' she cooed in a bad imitation of an upper-class accent, ‘come back to me, my love. I'm missing yer somefink rotten.'

‘Don't be so stupid,' snapped Maggie. Emily's so-called joke was far too near the bone to be funny.

Emily stared at her in hurt surprise. ‘Keep yer hair on girl,' she sniffed. ‘I was just kidding - honestly. Some people!'

‘Sorry,' apologised Maggie, putting a hand to her brow. ‘I didn't mean to bite your head off. I've got a splitting headache, that's all.'

‘My fault, ducks,' said Emily, forgiving her instantly. ‘I shouldn't ‘ave been teasing yer. Tell you what,' she went on, ‘I'll bring yer back some whelks from me ‘alf day off - cheer yer up a bit. And it's her majesty's afternoon for visiting the other old bats, so you just try and get yer feet up and take things easy.'

‘Thanks,' said Maggie ruefully. ‘But chance would be a fine thing.'

And she was right. After a fraught hour dressing Lady Georgina to go visiting, she barely had time to grab a bite to eat before tackling her other tasks. She was sitting sewing a rip in a pair of her ladyship's voluminous pantaloons when the bell for the library jangled, and five minutes later Thomas stuck his head round the kitchen door.

‘His nibs wants tea and biscuits,' he announced. ‘Sharpish.' He grinned. ‘And one of you girls'll have to take it up.' He waved a handful of envelopes. ‘He's sending me off to post this little lot.'

‘As if we didn't have enough to do already,' snapped Mrs McAlister, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Emily!' she called. ‘Emily! Where have you got to now, you lazy wee besom?' She shook her head at her own forgetfulness. ‘Och! What a nuisance; it's her afternoon off, isn't it?' Her eyes lit on Maggie. ‘Well, you'll have to take it up instead,' she decreed. ‘There's nothing else for it.'

‘Me?' protested Maggie. ‘But I'm busy sewing.'

‘Her ladyship's unmentionables can wait,' said Mrs McAlister briskly. ‘She'll not be needing them in the next ten minutes, now will she?' She brought out the silver teapot, breathed on it and buffed it with the corner of her apron. Satisfied, she took down the tea caddy, unlocked it and carefully spooned out the leaves. ‘There's a good girl,' she said. ‘You pour on the water while I lay the tray, and mind and not scald yourself.'

With a sigh Maggie put down her sewing and picked up a potholder instead. Wrapping it round the handle she heaved the heavy kettle from the kitchen range and poured the boiling water into the teapot.

‘Thanks, hinny,' smiled Mrs McAlister. She put down the plate of biscuits and regarded the tray, muttering under her breath as she checked off the items. ‘Hot water jug. Tea strainer. Cup and saucer, milk, sugar, lemon, biscuits.' She sniffed. ‘Better put out a bit o' cake as well, otherwise he'll have you running back down again.' She bustled off and returned bearing a large plateful of plum cake. ‘There,' she announced. ‘That should keep him quiet for a while.' She picked it up and thrust it into Maggie's hands. ‘Off you go now. Don't hang about.'

Maggie's mouth was dry as she tapped on the library door. The last time she'd been in the room had been the night before Jeremy left, and a feeling of unaccountable dread crept through her at the thought of facing the father in the same room where she'd made love with the son. An unintelligible grunt greeted her diffident knock and she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

He was sitting in the same chair that Jeremy had been that evening - but what a difference between the two men. Where Jeremy had been tall and lean, his father sat, leering at her like some squat disgusting toad. She avoided his eyes. ‘Your tea, Lord Edward,' she said, trying to keep as far away from him as possible as she laid the tray on the small table beside his chair. She straightened up, her fingers nervously pleating the folds of her starched apron. ‘Will there be anything else, sir?' she asked.

‘Yes, there will,' He smirked. ‘You can undo your bodice for a start.'

She stared at him, unable to believe her own ears. ‘I... I... beg your pardon, my lord,' she gasped. ‘Wh-what did you say?'

‘You heard me, slut,' he sneered. ‘Undo your bodice. I want to look at your tits.'

Her hand flew protectively to the neck of her dress. ‘H-how dare you, sir?' she stammered. ‘What kind of girl do you think I am?'

‘Oh, I know exactly what kind of girl you are,' he leered. ‘You're a cheap little trollop who'll spread her legs for anybody.' He laughed coarsely. ‘My son's had you - and now I'm going to have you too.'

She closed her eyes in horror, remembering the noise she thought she'd heard the last time she and Jeremy had made love. ‘That was you, that night,' she whispered. ‘You were watching us.' Her lip curled. ‘You're disgusting.'

‘How dare you speak to me like that, you little strumpet?' he sneered. ‘You weren't quite so high and mighty when you were riding my son's cock like a bitch in heat.' He licked his lips, his face flushed with lust. ‘Yes,' he chuckled, ‘and a pretty sight you were too, with those little tits of yours bouncing up and down.' His expression hardened. ‘Now do as you're told, or you'll find yourself out on your ear, back walking the streets like the whore you are.'

‘I... I'll tell Lady Georgina,' she said weakly, and he flung his head back and roared with laughter. When he'd recovered he looked at her with cold eyes.

‘Maids are ten-a-penny,' he smirked. ‘Do you really think she'd believe you? Take your word against that of her husband?' He shook his head in mock sympathy. ‘I think not, my dear. You'd be branded a liar as well as a slut.'

He leaned back and smiled triumphantly. ‘In fact, all I have to do is say I caught you thieving and you'd be out of here so fast it'd make your pretty little head spin. And not just out on the streets either. In gaol.' He waved an imperious hand. ‘Now do as I tell you before I lose my patience.'

‘But... but I only did it because Master Jeremy and I love each other,' she protested, making one final appeal to his better nature. ‘I was a virgin till then.'

He sniggered again. ‘“Love each other”,' he sneered. ‘You must have been reading that cheap rag you servants are so fond of. What is it they call it again? Ah yes, Peg's Paper. Full of stories where the duke falls madly in love with the scullery maid and carries her off to live happily ever after in his castle.' His lips curled into a derogatory smile. ‘My son love you? Hah! You were nothing but a convenient lay to save him the cost of a real whore.'

Maggie stared at him in dismay. Was he right? Was that all she'd been? Had Jeremy just been using her? She closed her eyes and shook her head in denial. It couldn't have been like that.

The thoughts whirling round inside her head distracted her, fatally, for despite his bulk Lord Edward lunged from his chair and was upon her. ‘If you won't obey me willingly I'll have to make you!' he grunted, his thick fingers tearing at her bodice. She lashed out frantically, her hands curved into claws as she attempted to fight him off. Her fingernails dug into his face and left a trail of bleeding furrows down his cheek. Drawing his breath in pain, he stepped back and touched it gingerly, then looked from his bloodstained fingers back to her.

‘You're going to regret that, you little bitch,' he hissed. She raised her hands again, but he was too quick for her. As she flailed at him he caught her wrists, trapping them. Dragging her he strode towards the library table, where a pile of newly delivered books lay, bound in a leather strap. Transferring both her wrists to one hand he undid the strap with the other, used it to bind them together, then hauled her across to a heavy wooden chair.