Mistress in the Making Page 6

  “Who do you suppose is this Georgina? Have either of you heard of her or her friend, Molly?”

  Bellamy released a sudden sneeze which turned into a cough. With bent shoulders, he buried his face in his hands.

  Alarmed, Charlotte leaned forward to pat his back. “Lucas, your friend is choking. Do something.”

  Lucas propped a booted foot next to Bellamy and rolled his eyes. “He’s laughing at your ignorance.”

  “What? I’m not ignorant,” she protested. She pushed at Lucas’ leg, which crowded her against the edge of the carriage.

  “Not ignorant? Charlotte, Molly is not a person. Molly is a term for a man who likes other men.”

  “What’s wrong with that? You and Bellamy appear to be very fond of each other.”

  Even louder snorts emerged from Bellamy who could barely maintain his seat and the carriage shook from his laughter.

  Lucas maintained a sober smile, though the creases around his eyes increased. “Bellamy and I are great friends, but we are not, nor ever have been, lovers.”

  “Lovers?” She felt as if her gut had taken a punch. “How could you be lovers? You’re both…you both have…male parts.” Her cheeks were on fire.

  “You’ll see tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “If Bell can contain his laughter, my innocent mistress, we’ll go hunting for Georgina and Molly tonight.” He leaned forward to punch Bellamy on the upper arm as she’d seen brothers do. “Contain yourself, Bellamy.”

  Bell sat up and took a restraining breath. “Sorry, Lucas, Charlotte. It’s unexpected to hear such innocent questions from a woman dressed like you.”

  “I like it,” Lucas said, reaching for her hand and stroking her palm through her glove. “I’d have no taste for a jaded woman.”

  “I promise to stay unjaded for you then,” she said, smiling up at him, encouraged by the morning’s progress. Lucas was letting her in. He’d included her in tonight’s investigation and said nothing more of her leaving. When they arrived back home, she’d show her gratitude in the way she was coming to love. Then she’d compose a letter to her sisters and tell them to prepare Elizabeth for her Season.

  *

  “You’re sure this is appropriate?” Charlotte whispered one more time as they left their coats with a dour-looking butler.

  “Yes. Stop tugging.” Lucas gave her hand a little slap and she stopped pulling at the cravat and lowered her arms, trying to walk as Lucas and Bellamy did with ease.

  “As I explained earlier, men bring their lovers here to play games. Women dress as boys and men dress as women.”

  Charlotte scowled, feeling as though her bum was exposed in the tight breeches. “I don’t understand the appeal.”

  Lucas paused and looked over at Charlotte’s rear. “Oh, I don’t know. From my viewpoint, it has its charm.”

  “Mine too,” breathed Bellamy as he stepped into the main room where couples sat at small tables dealing cards. “I’ll look for Georgina.” He strode ahead, leaving Charlotte wondering what was so special about this particular club. It didn’t look all that different from her imaginations of a ton men’s club.

  “Westhunt! Join us,” a man called from the couch, surrounded by two women in colorful gowns that made the one hanging in her closet look modest. If they were allowed to wear feminine attire, why had Lucas pulled her into breeches and wrapped a snowy cravat around her neck?

  Lucas changed directions, guiding Charlotte toward the threesome. “Baron Whiting, dear friend of my brother,” he said under his breath.

  She nodded, not sure to adopt her new flirtatious smile or play the role of a young boy. She opted for the smile, but found it hard to maintain as they came closer to the table. The sharp bite of whiskey and stale cigars surrounded Baron Whiting and his woman in a cloudy haze. Charlotte nodded to them through teary eyes and the burning need to cough.

  Whiting started to stand but fell back into the arms of the laughing women. “Sebastian,” he slurred. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight. Heard you were sulking over last night’s loss.” He guffawed and nuzzled at the bodice of one woman’s gown.

  “You’re not seeing Sebastian,” Lucas said coldly.

  “Huh?” Whiting stopped his love play long enough to look at them blearily. “Morgan? Lucas? The rumors are true then? You’re alive.”

  “I am indeed.” Lucas took Charlotte’s hand and strolled to the wide chair facing Whiting. He sat first and pulled her down to sprawl on his lap.

  Whiting shook off his drunken stupor like a dog shaking off water from a swim in the lake and sat forward, leaning his forearms on his thighs. “I’m glad to see you among the living. I never did like the way Sebastian believed the rumors of your ship sinking so easily.”

  Lucas played with Charlotte’s hand, seeming to not hear Whiting’s comment. Despite the highness of her cravat, goose bumps dotted the back of her neck. She wiggled her rear a little, leaning back against his wide chest.

  “From what I’ve heard since my return, my twin seems to give up rather easily on all his brothers.” His tone was light, but from her position, she could feel the tension radiating from him.

  Whiting reached for his low, crystal glass and handed it to the woman on his left. When she stood to find a refill, Charlotte’s eyes widened. She was as tall as Lucas and nearly as broad.

  Whiting’s gaze followed Charlotte’s and he chuckled. “You’re admiring my companion?”

  She nodded, not knowing how else to react.

  “Look out, Lucas. Your lover has an eye for the devil. But seeing how you were trained at the hand of Madame Bella, I’m not surprised.” Whiting narrowed his eyes at her. “You are the chit Lucas won for an outstanding amount last evening, are you not?”

  She nodded again, wishing Lucas would take the reins of conversation, but he seemed suddenly fixated on stroking her thighs, mostly vulnerable beneath the tight breeches. His warm lips teased the skin between her ear and chin. The cinnamon flavoring of their dessert tickled her nose.

  She couldn’t relax under Whiting’s scrutiny, but he suddenly laughed and sat back against his remaining companion. “I didn’t think you’d be like this, Lucas. Sebastian often spoke of you as a wet blanket and a moral prude. He didn’t think you’d know the address of this particular club, let alone the rules.”

  Dampness pooled between her legs as Lucas’ questing fingers drew ever closer.

  “We are twins,” he said. “Perhaps we are more alike than anyone guessed. Plus, I’ve changed in my absence from London. Seeing the world broadened my horizons…expanded my…tastes, if you will.”

  His finger ran from her collarbone, down her chest to circle a nipple. She closed her eyes against the rest of the room and concentrated on the insistent pressure of Lucas’ cock at the crack of her buttocks.

  His words seemed to convince Whiting of something, because he suddenly stood, pulling his mistress with him. “This room grows too crowded for my taste. Would you care to find some privacy in one of the back rooms?”

  Lucas’ harsh whisper echoed in her ear. “Stay close and trust me. I won’t let you get hurt.” His hands pushed her off him, forcing her to rise. Whiting’s other mistress returned with his drink and hooked her arm through his.

  The three strolled arm in arm through the room and Lucas and Charlotte followed. There was no sight of Bellamy anywhere. As they moved through the large room to a long, narrow corridor, Charlotte tried to peek into the various rooms that opened onto the corridor, but was unable to catch more than a glimpse of anything.

  “I don’t know why you dressed me like this. There are plenty of women,” she said to Lucas in a whisper. Whiting and his women were far enough ahead, she judged they couldn’t hear.

  Lucas grinned. “Oh, are there?”

  “Of course.” She gestured to Whiting. “Were you not sitting at the same table I was?”

  Lucas shook his head slowly. “Christ. Madame Bella left a few pertinent facts out
, didn’t she?”

  She pushed her chin up and quickened her pace. “I knew enough to have you begging this morning.” She halted abruptly when Lucas’ hand shot out to grab her elbow and pull her back against his hard body.

  The chair rail pressed against her back as Lucas loomed above her, palms flat on the wall at her shoulders, hips holding her hostage. He pushed his erection into her. Her breeches disguised nothing and she felt every inch of his length.

  “Aye, you have me begging,” he said, lowering his head for a bruising kiss. She met him with equal passion, sliding her tongue against his in a rhythm that matched their hips.

  When Lucas slid an arm under her thigh and raised it to wrap around his waist, she reveled in the freedom breeches allowed. She circled her arms around his torso pulling him closer. Her excitement and wetness grew with each of his measured thrusts. If he lowered her breeches, she’d allow him to take her against the wall in this very public spot.

  “Oi, you two. Hurry along,” Whiting called. He and his companions had paused to turn back and were grinning at the spectacle she and Lucas formed. “Save it for the room.”

  Lucas moved back an inch, lowering her leg. She brought her hands back to her sides and looked up into his eyes.

  “I didn’t think your costume would affect me this much.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t, but god help me, you’ll have me begging again.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips and whispered, “By the way, Whiting’s women are both men.” He grinned, pinched her bottom and took a step away.

  Her lips parted and she used the wall as a crutch for a long moment before she felt the strength to follow Lucas. She quickened her steps to catch up to the group and clung to his arm, needing an anchor in this strange new world. She studied the backs of Whiting’s companions. One was tall, but she could’ve fit in the other’s gown with very few necessary adjustments. Curls cascaded down both their backs. Were they wigs?

  Whiting paused at a closed wooden door marked with simple panels and turned the knob with a flourish. He gestured for everyone to enter, with Charlotte entering on Lucas’ heels and Whiting last, closing the door with a snick.

  A low bed dominated most of the space and there was no other furniture apart from a sofa. Charlotte clung to Lucas’ side, hesitant over their next step. He slung an arm over her shoulder and walked them over to the sofa. After they were seated, Lucas leaned against the back cushion.

  “What is this, Whiting?” he asked as if he were merely watching a play.

  “Judging from your behavior in the hall, I thought you’d like to join us. I confess to rabid curiosity to the many talents your acquisition learned at the hands of Madame Bella,” Whiting said.

  Ice filled Charlotte’s stomach and she prayed she’d judged Lucas’ character correctly. He wouldn’t make her touch Whiting, would he? Trust me, he’d ordered, so she would. For now. But she eyed the number of steps to the door just in case.

  “I find I’m too selfish to share her just yet. Come see me in six months or a year,” Lucas drawled, as he hoisted her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed into the protective armor of his body and tried to school her expression into passivity. Whiting would expect her to not hesitate at joining him in bed. After all, she was trained to be a lady of pleasure. She eyed him for any sign of anger at Lucas’ rebuff, but he didn’t seem offended.

  “Very well. It was worth a try. It would’ve been marvelous to taunt your brother over having her for free when he can’t.”

  Lucas’ lips curled upward, but he said nothing.

  “I’ll stick with my girls then. Stay to watch or join us,” Whiting said generously as his hands began to unwind his cream lacy cravat from his neck.

  “Are you okay to stay and watch?” Lucas whispered in her ear, taking advantage of the position to nibble her lobe causing shivers.

  She nodded, unable to find the correct words to give permission for her to watch three men engage in lewd acts she’d never even imagined. Did it make her a horrible person, because nothing could tear her away from the spectacle?

  *

  “Who are you?”

  Bellamy followed the tall blonde down the hall into a private dressing room after watching a scintillating dance designed to arouse every audience member. It had worked. He adjusted himself in his trousers and shut the door behind him so as not to lose the infamous Georgina to the hordes of fans.

  “My name is William Bellamy. Bell to my friends.” He stepped forward with an outstretched hand after hesitating a scant second. Perhaps he should’ve gone with his instincts and bowed over Georgina’s hand as he would a lady.

  Georgina ignored his proffered hand, eyeing it as though it held a dead rat. “And are we going to be friends?”

  He straightened grinning up at the other male. “I hope so.” If he hadn’t seen certain body parts revealed in the recent dance, he’d never have guessed the creature in front of him was, in fact, a man, not a woman. Long, golden hair spilled down his back, and it was no wig. Georgina’s face was one every debutante would pray to her maker for. Big blue eyes, pouty pink lips, and thin arched brows created a feminine beauty. “I’m told I make a good friend.”

  Georgina turned to the mirror and sat on a stool in front. He leaned forward to examine his reflection. “Why did you follow me? You don’t seem the type to want me in your bed.”

  “You’re beautiful,” Bell said honestly. When Georgina didn’t respond, he continued. “You’re correct, I’m here for you, but not in the way the other men are.”

  “Why are you here, then? I’m a busy girl, my adoring public expects another performance in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be quick then.”

  “Oh no, darling. Never brag about being quick. You’ll lose all interest.”

  Bell laughed at the double meaning. “I’m here on behalf of a friend. Lucas Morgan.”

  Georgina showed no reaction.

  “Twin brother to the Earl of Westhunt.”

  Georgina put a hairbrush down with a snap and straightened his spine. “I haven’t seen the earl in almost a year. Not since the week after he became earl.”

  Bell angled himself to be seen in the mirror. “Can you tell me about your relationship with him? Or more specifically, when he became earl?”

  Georgina swiveled to face Bellamy and there was a distinct wariness in his face. “I’d prefer not to talk about Sebastian Morgan.”

  “Please, Georgina. Man to man. Lucas fears his twin has committed a great crime.” He stopped and held his breath as the beautiful man watched him.

  Georgina turned back to the mirror and slowly ran the brush through his long hair before finally speaking. “We were lovers for a few months. He was very careful to keep me hidden. He came to me late at night and always in a hack for hire. He never spent the night.”

  “What about when he became earl?” Bell asked.

  Georgina frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. He went to some nabob house party. Of course I wasn’t invited. All I know is he went away for a week and came back as the earl. He dropped me upon his return. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Bellamy nodded afraid he’d reached a dead end, but there was something else Georgina wasn’t telling him. He squatted down to place a gentle hand on Georgina’s bare shoulder. It was as soft as any woman’s.

  Georgina angled his head to meet his gaze. “Bellamy, you said you would be my friend.”

  He tilted his head. “Are you in need of a friend?” He smoothed his hand down Georgina’s upper arm when he nodded.

  “The Earl threatened me when he abandoned me. He said if I ever told anyone about our time together, he’d have me thrown on a prison ship.” He released a delicate sob. “Look at me, Bellamy. How long do you think I’d survive?”

  “Not past the harbor,” Bellamy said bitterly. Georgina hadn’t been asked to be born with that face or body. He was simply making the best with god’s gifts granted him. “I will never speak of you
and Westhunt in the same sentence.”

  “Thank you.” Georgina smiled bitterly at him then seemed to shake off his maudlin thoughts and became the sensuous dancer once again. “I’m off. The show must go on.”

  Chapter Six

  Ten days later

  Charlotte scratched at the cravat anchored around her wrist and tried to feel seductive, not silly, tied to the headboard. She’d been playing games each evening for Lucas to discover when he returned home from society events, but this was her most daring yet. It had all started that first night at the molly house where they’d hunted for Georgina.

  Lucas had taken on the role of her lover and tutor, teaching her more in a week than in three months with Madame Bella. He seemed to thrill at each new lesson and every boundary he pulled her across. Last night he’d hinted at his fantasy of having her bound and naked for his pleasure. So she was trying it. Of course she couldn’t fully tie herself up and the thought of asking for Bellamy’s assistance sent a blush racing across her bare skin. One bound arm would have to be good enough. Lucas could finish the tying when he arrived home.

  She tried to calm her thoughts and daydreamed of Lucas so he didn’t enter the bedroom to discover a beet-red mistress. It didn’t work. Memories of him and their last ten or so days together heated her skin and left her praying he’d be bursting through the doorway any second to help relieve the sharp ache of desire centered at her core. The darkness in the room didn’t allow her to view the time on the mantle clock, but she guessed it was past midnight. He was late.

  He usually arrived home at midnight, crawling into bed and on top of her with rough sentiments of desire. He’d claimed he missed her and wished she could attend the balls with him, but she knew that to be a hopeless desire. A respectable life and entry to ton ballrooms was lost to her forever, but here in Lucas’ bed it didn’t seem of much importance.

  She stifled a yawn only to have another one sneak up on her and nearly swallow her face. Staying up to nearly dawn each night making furious love was taking a toll. Perhaps she’d close her eyes for a few moments. She’d wake up the moment Lucas entered the house.