Read The Price of Desire Online
Authors: Leda Swann
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Romance, #Historical
The Price of Desire (16 page)
Her inexperience with men would not keep him interested for long, and would be no great draw card for any other protector now that her virginity was gone. Experience in pleasing men was what she needed now, and where better to learn it from than from the mistress of such a house as this? And from the other guests as well, if they would teach her. Maybe she would approach Mrs. Hughes on the subject later in the week if she got a chance, and ask her to share some of her secrets. She looked over at Dominic as he drew a clean shirt over his naked torso and buttoned it up. She would like him to be her willing slave…
But meanwhile it was high time for her to get dressed herself. Dominic had outfitted her with a number of handsome dinner dresses, and she selected one of her favorites, in a deep creamy yellow. She would have preferred a gray or a mauve, to show proper respect for her father, but she had not liked to ask Dominic to buy her mourning clothes. She was his mistress, after all, and her job was to keep him satisfied. Mourning the death of her parent was her private sphere, only to be indulged in when he was not around to be disturbed at the sight of her tears.
So, for Dominic, she put on the yellow gown, and inwardly begged her father’s pardon for her seeming levity.
The parlor where they gathered before dinner was crowded with couples. There must have been six or seven of them altogether, all laughing and smiling as if they were the best of friends. Caroline looked around them swiftly, her eyes searching for a familiar face.
None of them were people she knew. She breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody knew her here. She could remain anonymous. As long as she kept her situation to herself, she would not have to suffer any sidelong glances or nasty comments about her parentage or her lack of morals.
In the middle of the largest group stood Mrs. Hughes, surrounded by laughing couples. Mrs. Hughes beckoned Dominic and her over and introduced them to the rest of the company without so much as a flicker of embarrassment.
Caroline took heart at her easy manner and the friendly smiles of the other guests. By the time dinner was announced some half hour later, she was feeling enough at ease to stand and listen and observe, if not to take an active part in the conversation.
By the time dinner was over, and she had drunk several glasses of tart white wine with her food, she felt as much at home here as she did in her own parlor.
When Mrs. Bertram rapped on her wineglass with her knife to hush the chatter around the dinner table, Caroline was actually looking forward to the next phase of the evening. Whatever Mrs. Hughes had said, surely it couldn’t be as shocking as all that. Her dinner companions were all perfectly respectable people and would be at home in any house in Bloomsbury or even in Belgrave Square. Indeed, she thought to herself with a small giggle, she was the least respectable of all of them.
When a hush had fallen over the table, Mrs. Bertram spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you all to my house. To Sugar and Spice.”
There was a smattering of applause around the table and one of the gentlemen lifted his glass. “To Sugar and Spice.”
“To Sugar and Spice,” Caroline echoed with the rest of the company, lifting her wineglass to her lips once again.
“Now that dinner is over, we have some entertainment planned for the evening. As we have some newcomers here tonight,” she nodded graciously at Caroline and Dominic, “I thought it best if we were to start off with a simple game of Shadows.”
A game of Shadows? Caroline giggled out loud. She had not played that since she was a small girl, when her mother was still alive. As children, they had rigged up an old white sheet in the schoolroom, then turned out all the gas lamps but one, and taken turns at creeping behind the white sheet to throw a shadow that looked as unlike their natural self as possible. Now she knew that Mrs. Hughes had been exaggerating. There was nothing naughty about a simple, childish game of Shadows.
“The men will be the shadows first,” Mrs. Bertram pronounced, getting to her feet. “Come, ladies. Let us go into the parlor while they prepare themselves.”
While they were at dinner, the parlor had been transformed with a huge white sheet dividing the room in two. Mrs. Bertram pulled it back with one hand and waved them through to the other side, where a row of chairs was laid out. “Sit down. The men will not be long, I’m sure.”
Caroline sat down at the end of the row, next to Mrs. Hughes, grinning at the thought of the forfeit she would demand of Dominic when she guessed him correctly. She was sure she would be able to recognize his gait, however he tried to disguise himself.
Mrs. Bertram extinguished all the lights, leaving only one burning on the other side of the curtain. Caroline watched as her bulky shadow glided out of the door, and another, rather taller and slimmer one, strode in.
At first she did not realize what she was seeing in the shadows. She blinked once, and then again.
No, she was not mistaken. The shadow was of a man wearing a top hat, and nothing else. To make matters worse, when he turned in side profile to the sheet, it was clear that he was sporting a sizable erection, which stood stiffly out from his body, bouncing a little in time with his footsteps.
She gazed at the shadow, fascinated, as he strode back and forth behind the sheet. So this is what Mrs. Hughes had been meaning to warn her about.
The woman on the other side of her was giggling fit to burst. “I know who you are, John,” she called out between spurts of laughter. “I would recognize that bend in your cock anywhere.”
Caroline looked at the shadow again. He did have a rather peculiar crook in his cock, though it had hardly been noticeable until it was pointed out.
The shadow took off his top hat and bowed low. “You are quite correct, my dear, as always.”
His wife giggled in delight at being proved correct. “You have to pay a forfeit.”
“You may have my hat.” Pulling back the curtain, quite unashamed, he walked into their half of the room and handed his top hat to his wife with a bow. “I will redeem it later.”
He had been so close to her that she could see every curl of hair at the base of his proud shaft, every vein that ran along its hard length. If she had reached out her hand, she could have stroked his naked buttocks as he passed her. In fact, she caught sight of the woman seated on the other side of his wife doing so, and neither he nor his wife had complained.
Caroline swallowed. This week was going to be enlightening in more ways than one.
One by one the men of the company made their appearance behind the shadow curtain, each of them wearing no more than a single item of clothing. The sole exception was the man who, as far as she could tell, was wearing both his socks.
One by one their wives guessed them correctly, until there were quite a number of forfeits to be paid.
Eventually Dominic made an appearance as a shadow. Though he wore his shirt and tried to disguise himself by hunching over and walking with a limp, she knew at once that it was him. Besides, he was the last of the company.
At the sight of him, so nearly naked behind the curtain, her heart skipped a beat, as it had failed to do for any of the other men. Back and forth she watched him limp, amused at his attempts to disguise himself. Finally she called out in a loud voice, “I am sure that must be Dominic. See how he creaks and groans with old age. Ah, deary me, what a curse it is to have an ancient husband with no courage in him.”
The other women all shrieked with laughter at her words.
Behind the curtain, Dominic straightened up and stomped over to the curtain. “I see you have no respect for my modesty, wench,” he said, peering out at her with a mock scowl. “And not much respect for my person, either.”
Letting the curtain fall, he pulled off his linen in the shadows. He drew the curtain back just enough to toss the shirt at Caroline’s feet. “You may claim a forfeit from me this time, but I shall be sure to claim one back from you later in the evening.”
The forfeited clothing was gathered together in a pile by the door, as the men trickled in again. Dominic was the last, entering rather shamefacedly in trousers and jacket but no shirt. A couple of the women made noises of appreciation at the sight of his bare chest. It was a particularly nice chest, she had to concede, smooth and muscled, without a hint of flab. Still, she wished he had his shirt on so none but she could see his naked chest.
Mrs. Hughes’s voice came soft and amused in her ear. “You’re looking at him as if you want to eat him up. And as if you wanted to claw the eyes out of the other women who are thinking the same.”
She shook her head. Yes, she desired him, as she had from the first moment, but her feelings had grown to be more than that. Far more. He was hers, and she wanted to keep him to herself. The sight of other women looking at him with desire made her feel positively sick to her stomach.
She could not put her finger on the moment when her feelings toward Dominic changed, when she had become so possessive of his affection. She had not always felt that way about him. Before today he had been her meal ticket. A perfectly pleasant and agreeable meal ticket, and a generous one, and one to be prized, but a meal ticket all the same.
When had he become not just her savior, but her very heart and soul?
As soon as the men were all assembled in the sitting room, Mrs. Bertram led the women back through the curtain and into the neighboring room, which they were using as a dressing room.
“You will have worked out the rules of the game by now, I imagine,” she said, a smile on her face. “All of you get to choose one item of clothing to wear. All the rest must be discarded. If your husband—or anyone else’s husband, for that matter—chooses correctly, then you must pay a forfeit of the item you are wearing. If they do not guess who you are, then there is no forfeit to be paid. Are you ready?”
Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and tried to suppress her shivers. The thought of parading naked, or very nearly so, in front of all the men in the next-door room made her squirm with embarrassment. Would Dominic really want to see her like that, undressed for everyone to gaze on? Would he not think she was a loose woman?
Of course, she
was
a loose woman. That was the irony of it. She simply didn’t want to appear like one in front of him.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” Mrs. Bertram asked the roomful of women. She moved over to a chest and flipped the lid open, revealing a profusion of wigs and clothing and other things whose purpose Caroline didn’t even like to guess at. “I have some items here that may help you to confuse the gentlemen. Choose yourself a partner, one who looks most like you, and dress them as you would dress yourself. Show them how to walk like you do and how to stand like you do. None of your husbands will be able to guess you then, I’ll warrant.”
Mrs. Hughes grabbed Caroline by one of her wrists. “You look the most like me out of all the others here. Come be my partner.”
Caroline shook her head. She looked nothing at all like the glamorous Mrs. Hughes. “Surely Mrs. Warren is more like you than I am,” she said, naming the second most elegant woman in the room, whose long brown hair matched the length of Mrs. Hughes auburn locks.
Mrs. Hughes shook her head. “Mrs. Warren is too skinny and her breasts are virtually nonexistent. Gareth will never believe that she is me. But you are just a fraction taller than I am, and about the same size and shape. We could pull this off.”
“But my hair…”
“You shall wear a wig to disguise your hair. As shall I. None of them shall know us and we shan’t have to pay a forfeit at the end. What a great joke that will be on the men. Come, dress me just as you would attire yourself to go behind the shadow curtain.”
Hesitantly, Caroline allowed herself to be pulled into the other woman’s enthusiasm. “I could never parade naked, as the men did.”
“You are allowed to keep one article of clothing,” Mrs. Hughes reminded her. “Just remember that if you are guessed, you must pay the forfeit and give it to your man in the presence of all the rest.” She unhooked the buttons of her dress and let it fall to the floor. “I would not mind for myself, but I do not think you would like them leering at you.”
Mrs. Hughes had a point. If disguising herself like her new friend would prevent her from having to waltz out naked in front of all the gentlemen, it was worth a try.
Of course, she could always walk away from the evening and refuse to play the game, but that would displease Dominic, and she did not want to do that. He had brought her here knowing what took place in this house, and had played the game himself with a good spirit. She could do no less in her turn. “I would wear my chemise. It would hide my shape more than any other article of clothing. And if I were to be guessed, why then, no one would be able to see later on that I had no chemise on under my dress.”
“Your chemise?” Mrs. Hughes pouted. “I am proud of my body and do not care who looks on it. I had thought merely to wear one of my garters.”
“My chemise,” Caroline replied firmly. “If we are to swap characters, we must do it properly. Dominic would never believe that I would appear behind the shadow curtain wearing nothing but a garter.”
Reluctantly Mrs. Hughes stripped down to her chemise, a frothy creation of finest lawn that floated around her as she walked.
Caroline nodded her approval. “It’s near enough like mine to pass. Now let me see what I can do with your hair.” Mrs. Hughes’s auburn hair was darker and straighter than her own wavy red-blond locks, but that could soon be fixed. Rummaging around in the chest, she found a wig that closely approximated her own hair. She placed it on Mrs. Hughes’s head. “Now, be still while I pin your own hair underneath.”
When she was finished, Mrs. Hughes stood in front of her, looking as like her as if they were sisters.
Caroline looked at her critically, still not entirely satisfied. “I know what the matter is. You are too confident in the way you stand. Too sure of yourself. I do not have your confidence or poise.”
Ms. Hughes struck an exaggeratedly shy and awkward pose, all knees and elbows. “Is this better?”
Caroline screwed up her nose. “You look much more like me when you do that.” It was a depressing thought. “You’ll do.”
Mrs. Hughes clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Now it is my turn to dress you as I would dress myself. Off with all your clothes.”
“I am allowed to keep on one article of clothing,” Caroline reminded her as she unfastened her dress.
“Precisely. But I get to say what that article is.”
“My chemise?” Caroline suggested hopefully.
Mrs. Hughes merely laughed. “That would give the game away at once. Gareth would never believe I would wear my chemise when I had a chance to go naked.”
Caroline gulped as she removed her chemise. “My pantalettes, then?” Surely Mrs. Hughes would let her keep them.
“Certainly not. Take them off, too.”
“But I am wearing nothing else.”
“Nonsense. You still have two stockings, two slippers, two garters, two gloves, and a pretty hat. Maybe I will let you keep the hat.”
“I will look utterly ridiculous,” Caroline grumbled, conveniently forgetting how taken she had been by the sight of the naked man wearing only his hat. “Stark naked with a hat perched on top of my head.”
“If we are to swap characters, we must do it properly,” Mrs. Hughes said, parroting her earlier words back at her. “On second thought, take off the hat. It will be easier to fix a wig on you if your head is bare. I will let you keep a garter instead.”
“You want me to go behind the curtain and show myself to the company wearing nothing but a garter?” Caroline shook her head. This game was going too far. She no longer wanted to play, not even to make Dominic happy with her. “I shall be too ashamed.”
Mrs. Hughes laughed at her modesty. “You forget, everyone will think you are me. Come, pull off your stockings and let me arrange your hair.”
Caroline backed away, on the verge of turning tail and running from the room, from the house itself. “I cannot do this.” Maybe it was not too late to become a governess after all. In Ireland, or somewhere equally far away where her fall from grace could be concealed.
“You want to capture Dominic’s attention, don’t you?” Mrs. Hughes asked.
Caroline nodded. “He is my security, the only way I have of holding my family together.”
“And you want to make him think you are the most desirable woman in the world?”
She would hate it if he were to find her lacking in any way. “I do.”
“Then what better way to do it than have every man in the room looking at you, wanting you, wishing they were in his place? If he sees you have other options, that you stay with him from choice rather than from necessity, he will prize you all the more, and work hard to keep you happy. You want him to keep you, don’t you?”
Caroline nodded slowly, giving in to the inevitable. She liked Dominic and desired him, and he was kind to her. She did not want to have to find another protector—she wanted Dominic to keep her.
In the chest, they found a wig of long dark hair, close enough to Mrs. Hughes’s length to pass muster. It made the top of Caroline’s head itch dreadfully, but she gritted her teeth and bore it as best she could. Though she would go through with this game, she was still less than happy about it. But then, she would have suffered a good deal more than a scratchy wig to have her true identity disguised.
“Now strike a pose for me,” Mrs. Hughes declared.
Caroline struck a pose, hiding as much as she could of her naked body behind the thick hair of the wig.
Mrs. Hughes pushed the hair away from Caroline’s breasts, her fingers lingering on the soft curves. “Be proud of your body as I am of mine. Do not try to hide it. You have such a beautiful shape, it should not be hidden under all that hair.”
Even in the company of her sisters, Caroline had never been comfortable with her nakedness. She blushed under Mrs. Hughes’s open scrutiny. “I shall try to act as confidently as you would.”
“That would be wisely done of you,” the other woman replied wryly. “For if you are anything less than confident, you will be found out right away.”
They had taken some time in getting ready, and the men were clearly getting impatient. Cries of encouragement and shouts for them to hurry along and show themselves were getting louder by the minute.
As Caroline practiced walking with confidence, and Mrs. Hughes covered herself with her hair and attempted a modest look, Mrs. Bertram sent the first woman off to pose behind the curtain.
Howls of delight and appreciative catcalls greeted her entrance. “That’s my wife,” one of the men called out, loud enough for all of them in the next room to hear. “I’d know her shape anywhere.”
One of the women clapped her hands quietly together with barely suppressed glee. “That’s William speaking,” she said in a whisper. “With such confidence, too. He thinks Mrs. Kingsley is me, just as Mrs. Bertram said he would. I shall never let him forget this. Never. It will be worth at least that lovely ruby bracelet I saw the other week in Harrods.”
There were cries of disbelief when Mrs. Bertram pronounced the men wrong in their guess and sent another woman behind the curtain to test their mettle.
One by one the women posed behind the curtain as someone else, and one by one the men guessed their identity wrongly, until only Caroline and Mrs. Hughes were left.
Caroline looked beseechingly at Mrs. Hughes. Now that the time was very near, the butterflies in her stomach were turning cartwheels and she thought she might be sick. “You go out first,” she whispered. “Please. I’m not ready yet.”
Mrs. Hughes shot her a grin as she minced to the door. “I will be as modest as a dewdrop and convince them all that I am you.”
By now the men had gotten wind that something fishy was up and were no longer calling out the names of their wives with such confidence. When Mrs. Hughes walked through to stand behind the shadow curtain, only a few appreciative whistles disturbed the mutterings.
Caroline, a shawl thrown over her shoulders to keep the chill off her naked body, listened to them with growing unease. They didn’t like being made to look like fools. The guessing game had gotten serious. She should have conquered her fears and gone first.
Joining the group of women by the door, she strained her ears to listen.
“I would have sworn it was Caroline,” she heard Dominic say, “if it hadn’t been that every other guess we’ve made this evening has been wrong, and every man was sure of himself. Besides, now that I think about it, there is something not quite right about her. Nothing that I can put my finger on, but I do not think it is her.”
“One thing I’m sure about is that it is not Cora,” Mr. Hughes said. “I cannot imagine my dear wife wearing a shift if she had the chance to go naked. She is proud of her body, and rightly so. And her hair is longer than that woman’s.”
“Maybe that is where we have been going wrong,” Dominic suggested. “Maybe we should guess the person we think is the least likely, instead of the most.”
“We haven’t been doing very well so far,” grumbled one of the other men. “May as well take a chance and say this is Mrs. Hughes and be done with it.”
“What the devil.” Mr. Hughes gave a loud laugh. “If we’re going to be wrong, we may as well be properly wrong and be done with it. Cora, I guess that it is you behind the curtain.”
There was the scraping noise of the curtain being drawn back and then a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted in a roar of triumph. “We got her. By Jove, we got her.”
“Congratulations, husband. You guessed me correctly. Now come and claim your forfeit.” There was a rustle of clothing. In her mind’s eye Caroline could picture Mrs. Hughes raising her arms and pulling off her chemise to reveal her nakedness to the company. All the men would be staring at her, admiring her body, gazing at her firm, white breasts and rounded buttocks, and at the thatch of red hair that lay between her legs.
All the men. Even Dominic.
At that thought, she threw off the shawl, ready to take her turn. She would show Dominic that she was as brave as Mrs. Hughes could ever be, and that her body was just as well-rounded and desirable. If she had to prove it with an audience, then so be it. Prove it she would.
Dominic’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the last woman in the company behind the shadow curtain. Braver than the others, she came out seemingly wearing nothing at all. That is, until he caught the glimpse of a garter worn high up on one of her legs. Apart from that one thin scrap of satin and lace, she was utterly naked.
Utterly beautiful, too. Her breasts were made for a man’s hand, and her buttocks shapely and full, begging to be stroked. Or smacked.
The thought of laying his hands on those buttocks made his cock fully hard in his trousers.
As if the sight of Mrs. Hughes’s red-haired beauty hadn’t been enough to make him ache for release, now it was this little witch’s turn. Not that he didn’t like Caroline by far the best of the bunch, but he was no monk wedded to chastity. And looking at another man’s woman never hurt—so long as he didn’t go any further than looking.
He looked around the room, wondering which man had the joy of being married to her.