Read The Darling Strumpet Online
Authors: Gillian Bagwell
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General
The Darling Strumpet (6 page)
Rose went to a prosperous-looking man who called to her, and Nell was left on her own. She wanted to hang back unnoticed. Having spent so much of her childhood in similar surroundings, she drifted to where she felt most at home—near to the bar. The barman, of middle years and with a face as English and unexceptional as a crab apple, had a row of slipware mugs half filled and was topping off another. He looked friendly, Nell thought, as she peered at him, her head barely clearing the top of the bar.
“Do you want me to take these over?” she asked.
The barman gave her a lopsided grin.
“Aye, that’d be a right help,” he nodded. “And who might you be?”
“Nell. I’m Rose’s sister. I’m working here now.”
“Well, Mistress Nell,” he said, “I’m Ned. And since you ask, you can take these to those lads, and bring back the dead men.” He nodded toward four young army officers at a table in a corner and the litter of empty vessels before them. Nell expertly grasped the handles of four full mugs and made her way across the room. One of the lads was just reaching the end of a story and the group broke into laughter as she set the mugs on the table.
“You’re new,” one of them commented as he took up his drink. Four sets of eyes focused on her and it hit Nell with a sudden shock that she was there for their purchase. The first lad’s dark eyes were intent. She flushed and then, annoyed with herself at her shyness, tossed her head and gave the group a cocky smile. She recalled the line that Rose had instructed her to use.
“I’m Nell,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.” She dropped them a curtsy, gathered the empties, and hurried back to the bar. The place grew busier, so she continued to deliver drinks. It gave her something to occupy herself and made her feel less conspicuous, and after a lifetime of her mother harrying her not to be idle, she felt she should be doing something.
Madam Ross bustled into the room an hour or so after Nell had entered. In her wake came a man that Nell guessed must be Jack. He was above average height and muscular in a lean and catlike way, and though he did no more than amble to the bar, casually surveying the room and nodding at an acquaintance or two, he conveyed a sense of coiled danger. Nell could see why Rose had said that his mere presence was usually enough to discourage troublemakers. She remembered, too, what Rose had said about his occasionally requiring the services of one of the girls, and hoped that he would not find her to his liking.
Rose hurried up to Nell and leaned close to speak to her.
“The missus won’t like it if she sees you back here. You’ve got to get out and speak to the men.”
“But what will I say?”
“It doesn’t matter; you’ll think of something. Ned—give me a cup of comfort for Nell, would you? Here—drink this down. It’ll take the edge off and make things easier.”
Nell wrinkled her nose at the brandy but made herself swallow it in a gulp. She coughed, and tears came to her eyes, but almost instantly she felt a warming sensation followed by a pleasant numbness.
“Better?” asked Rose. “Good. Come with me.” She pulled Nell with her to the table where she had been sitting with her gentleman and his friend. “Mr. Green, Mr. Cooper, this is my sister Nell.”
“The usual phrase is ‘one of my cousins,’ is it not?” asked Mr. Cooper with a leer, peering at Nell over spectacles. He was fat and greasy looking and Nell instantly hated him.
“Yes, sir, but I do not speak in jest or in cant. She really is my sister.”
“Pretty little thing,” Mr. Cooper commented to Mr. Green. Nell felt she might have been a doll on a shelf, the way he spoke as if she were not there to hear him. She thought of him touching her and wanted to run, but was stopped from further action by the arrival of Madam Ross at her side.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Come, Nell. A gentleman is asking for you particularly.” She led Nell away and glanced at the table of officers in the corner. “Mr. Cade. He says you’ve met. Take him upstairs. And treat him well. It will do us no harm to be in well with the army lads.”
Nell nodded, her heart suddenly in her throat. The young officer who had first spoken to her was making his way toward her. He was rather handsome, with dark curling hair and a face bronzed by the sun, and he had seemed friendly enough. Nevertheless, she was afraid. The brandy was making the noisy room echo around her and she felt rooted to the floor.
Madam Ross gave Cade a seductive smile and a half bow as he approached. “Here she is, sir. Enjoy yourself, pray.”
Cade returned the bow and the smile.
“Of that I have no doubt, madam.”
With a flutter of her fan, Madam Ross drifted off, and Cade turned and looked down at Nell.
“Lead on, little one.”
His speech was casual, but his eyes were bright and she could sense the heat of his desire as he followed her out of the taproom and up the stairs to her room.
As soon as they were in the door, he shoved her against the wall, plunging one hand down her bodice and the other beneath her skirts, reaching between her legs and exploring her roughly. Nell caught her breath at the suddenness of his assault. Images of the previous night flooded her mind and she fought down panic.
Cade lifted her skirt and grasped her around the waist, thrusting against her backside. Nell could feel his hardness beneath his breeches. He pulled himself away and stood looking at her for a moment, his breathing rapid and his eyes like coals.
“Take your clothes off,” he commanded, pulling off his sword belt. She was frightened, but with his eyes on her she was more frightened not to obey, and she fumbled with the hooks of her bodice and skirt and dropped them to the floor. He ran his hands over her bare shoulders and throat, then unlaced her stays. When they were free he pulled her shift over her head. Standing there in nought but stockings and shoes, Nell felt more naked beneath his gaze than she would have if she had worn nothing.
“Come, wench. Onto your knees.”
So here it was, Nell thought. If this was her chosen trade, this was a part of it, and she had better get used to it than fight it.
She knelt before Cade and unbuttoned his breeches. His cock sprang forth like a living thing. It seemed enormous, and was alarmingly ruddy and purple. Nell took it into her hand and tentatively licked the head. It felt velvety beneath her tongue, and tasted slightly salty, of sweat and something more, but was not vile, as she had feared it might be. Cade moaned and grasped a handful of her hair and thrust himself into her mouth. Nell felt her gorge rise and instinctively pushed him away. She turned from him, gagging and coughing. Fear rose in her. She was a failure at this, too, and would be turned out.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her eyes fixed on his boots. “Only I haven’t—”
“You haven’t had a prick in your mouth before?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, first time for everything, isn’t there? Come, try again. I won’t hurt you.”
Nell once again took him into her mouth, and he did not push so deep into her throat this time. She did nothing except let him move inside her, but that seemed to be all that was required.
After a few moments, he withdrew and pulled her onto the bed. His breeches around his knees and still wearing his boots, he nudged her thighs apart. Nell remembered the salve that Rose had left with her, but it was too late now.
Her nether parts were bruised, and Cade’s entry hurt. She thought that if last night had been anything to go by, at least this would not last long. She was relieved to find that she was right. After only a few minutes, his thrusts sped up and Nell felt the spasm as he shoved hard and spent within her.
She felt his heartbeat slow along with his breathing before he rolled off her. She was unsure what she should do, but he seemed not to expect anything more. He gave her a brief smile and tousled her hair.
“That’s a good girl.”
Evidently Nell had given satisfaction, for Cade gave her tuppence on his way out, and as she was washing herself, Madam Ross came to tell her not to bother dressing, as two of Cade’s brother officers had paid for her services.
“Here’s Lieutenant Dawkins,” she said. Dawkins, big and blond, was out of his coat before Madam Ross had shut the door behind her, and without a word he pushed Nell onto the bed and settled himself between her legs.
“Oh, God, but you’re tight,” he moaned in her ear. He moved slowly, lying heavy on top of her. Nell felt that she would smother under his weight and wrenched her head to the side, gasping for breath. Dawkins felt even bigger than Cade inside her, and she wondered how big a man’s pego could be. She thought with alarm of the enormous member of a stallion. Surely no man could be as huge as that?
A fist thundered on the door.
“Hurry up, you poxy bastard. Are you going to take all night about it?”
“Piss off,” Hawkins answered, not interrupting his purposeful stroke.
The owner of the voice, Lieutenant Harper, was waiting outside the door and gave Dawkins a leering grin as they met in the doorway. He was a ruddy-faced young man with sandy red hair who reminded Nell of a fox.
“Give her a good one?” he asked, with a glance at Nell.
“Better than you could manage, mate,” Dawkins returned, and was gone.
Harper came to the edge of the bed where Nell sat naked and squeezed her small breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples until they stood erect and hard.
“Go on, open my breeches,” he said. She obeyed. “Look what a stargazer I’ve got. And it’s going right down your gullet.”
He pulled Nell to her knees and shoved himself into her mouth, and she fought the urge to gag.
“Suck, wench.”
Nell did as he told her. Her lips hurt, stretched wide, and she wished he would stop. She felt his thrusts grow quicker but was not prepared for the sudden explosion of hot liquid into her mouth, and she choked and struggled as he held her head in place. When he withdrew, his mettle ran down Nell’s chin and onto her bare chest. She scrambled for the pot under the bed and retched into it.
“What, wench, do you not like the taste of my buttermilk?” Harper laughed as he wiped himself with his shirt and buttoned his breeches. “Well, you’ll come to it with use. Still, here’s tuppence for you. You’ll do better next time.”
After Harper had left, Nell wanted nothing more than to sleep. But, afraid of being cast out if she failed to live up to Madam Ross’s expectations, she washed herself, wincing as she did so, dressed, and went back downstairs. Rose beckoned and looked searchingly at her.
“How are you faring?” she asked. “Not too bad?”
“Not too bad,” Nell responded, though she tottered on her feet with exhaustion. “Will it always hurt so much?”
“No,” said Rose. “You’ll grow used to it by and by. Remember the salve.”
Madam Ross was approaching, an approving smile on her powdered face.
“You’ve done well. All the gentlemen were most pleased.” She looked at Nell’s disheveled hair and bleary eyes.
“That’s enough for your first night. Go to bed now. Those lads and more will be back tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THREE
A
S MADAM ROSS HAD PREDICTED, THE DAYS FOLLOWING THE king’s arrival were busy. The town was crowded with Royalists returning from the years of exile at country homes, with village lads who had come to see the king’s arrival and stayed to look for work, with sailors eager to ship once more under the proud flag of a monarch, and with huge numbers of soldiers glad to be done with fighting and hardship. London was mad with joy. Anything seemed possible now that King Charles was back, and Nell listened enthralled to the gossip and stories about the growing court at Whitehall. “That Barbara Palmer doesn’t trouble to hide from anyone, not even her husband, that she’s the king’s mistress!” Rose exclaimed. “I’ve heard that he spent his first night at the palace in her arms.”
S MADAM ROSS HAD PREDICTED, THE DAYS FOLLOWING THE king’s arrival were busy. The town was crowded with Royalists returning from the years of exile at country homes, with village lads who had come to see the king’s arrival and stayed to look for work, with sailors eager to ship once more under the proud flag of a monarch, and with huge numbers of soldiers glad to be done with fighting and hardship. London was mad with joy. Anything seemed possible now that King Charles was back, and Nell listened enthralled to the gossip and stories about the growing court at Whitehall. “That Barbara Palmer doesn’t trouble to hide from anyone, not even her husband, that she’s the king’s mistress!” Rose exclaimed. “I’ve heard that he spent his first night at the palace in her arms.”
“Of course, he has no wife,” chimed in plump Jane, one of the girls who had taken a special liking to Nell. “But still, he makes mighty bold with his dalliance.”
“And who’s to stop him?” asked Rose. “Harry Killigrew told me that the king has half a dozen bastards. He’s got a boy that was born to him on Jersey afore he and his court moved to France, and he’s brought the lad to live at the palace. Thirteen years old, and the spitting image of his father. Harry says the king so dotes on and dandles him the whisper goes he might be acknowledged a lawful son.”
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