WANTON (2 page)

“He always liked me best.”

“He did not.”

The second woman stepped in behind him, her face not visible, and Amelia could only presume she was observing another housemaid. She’d stripped down to just her petticoat, so her breasts were bared. They were smaller than the first woman’s, but still rounded and full, the tips pink and sticking out as if proud to be on display. Amelia was transfixed by the sight.

At Miss Peabody’s school, where there had been limited privacy and modesty expected at all times, Amelia had rarely seen her own bosom, let alone anyone else’s, and the scene excited and disturbed her. She felt overheated, her pulse racing, her own nipples growing hard.

“You have too many clothes on,” the newcomer told the man. “We must discard some of them.”

“Gladly.” He held out his arms as if he was at his tailor being measured for a suit.

Amelia switched her attention to him and was irked to admit that he was incredibly handsome. He had blond hair, the color of golden wheat, and he wore it too long so it brushed his shoulders as if he were a pirate or brigand.

His eyes were very blue, his face aristocratically formed with high forehead, strong nose and chin. His skin was bronzed from the sun as if he toiled out-of-doors to earn his living. Was he a deliveryman? Was he a tradesman from the village? Was Lord Sidwell aware that a man sneaked into the manor to cavort with the maids? Was he aware that his maids were slatterns?

Amelia’s spirits flagged. What type of domicile had she entered? What type of family was she marrying into? If the maids could vanish in the middle of the afternoon without being missed, if they could disrobe and disport in an abandoned bedchamber, who was in charge?

It was shocking misbehavior, and now that Amelia had learned of it, what was her duty to her father-in-law? Should she tattle? Should she keep her mouth shut? If she spoke up, what can of worms would she be opening? She’d certainly make enemies of the staff, which could never be a benefit.

Lord Sidwell was a widower, so there was no Lady Sidwell to rule the large residence. Perhaps that was the problem. There was no mistress, so the servants were free to frolic and debauch.

When Amelia wed Lucas Drake, would she be placed in a role of authority over the servants? The notion didn’t bear contemplating. With what she was currently witnessing, she had no desire to supervise such loose doxies. She’d have no idea how.

Inside the room, the man’s shirt had been removed, and Amelia’s consternation increased. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a man’s naked chest before, and she grew even more unsettled.

There was a matting of hair across the top, a shade darker than the golden hair on his head. It thinned to a straight line that ran down his flat, muscled belly and into his trousers.

As with his face, his torso was bronzed from the sun—as if he constantly strutted about unclad. The prospect was too thrilling to be believed.

She was inundated by an exhilaration she didn’t understand. For a wild, crazed instant she yearned to burst into the room, to demand the chance to rub her hands over all that exposed male flesh.

The two women had him wedged between them. Their upper bodies were bared now, so he had breasts pressed to front and back. He was grinning, preening, delighted by the sordid escapade.

The woman in front reached down and stroked him between his legs.

“My, my,” she murmured, “you’ve missed us, haven’t you?”

“Only every minute.”

“How long has it been since you had any?”

“Three hours at least.”

This statement appeared to be a private joke with them, and they all laughed.

“You always were a randy dog.”

“And proud of it,” he responded.

“Tell us we’re more fun than any of your regular trollops.”

“You’re much more fun. It’s no contest.” He smirked. “Why do you think I always come back for more?”

Amelia continued to observe, mesmerized as their fervid kissing kicked up once more. At the same time, he was massaging the maid’s breasts, pinching her nipples in a way that had the woman moaning again.

“Hey, love,” the other woman scolded, “give me a turn, will you? She can’t have you all to herself.”

“I apologize if I’ve been remiss,” he said.

He spun and dipped down and—shocking Amelia to her very core—sucked a nipple into his mouth. He licked and bit at it, sending the woman into paroxysms of ecstasy, and she put a hand behind his head and pulled him closer, urging him to feast.

Amelia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

Did adults truly behave so brazenly? Was it common? She had no idea.

From the strict religious and moral teachings she’d had over the years, she knew they were sinning hideously, yet she was as elated as they seemed to be. She couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t force herself away.

With each tug of his lips on that nipple, Amelia’s own nipples ached and throbbed, her womb clenching, the secretive woman’s spot between her legs growing warm and wet until she was shamefully aroused.

The man was becoming more amorous. He tipped his partner backward so she was draped over his arm. At the change of position, her features were finally visible.

It was the housemaid who’d initially escorted Amelia to her room! It was the housemaid who’d offered to unpack her bag! It was the housemaid who’d been assigned to attend Amelia during her stay! But considering what Amelia was witnessing, she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever look the woman in the eye again. She’d be too embarrassed to acknowledge her or converse.

She gasped aloud—she couldn’t help it—the fireplace poker sliding to the rug with a muted thud.

The ardent trio heard her, and they froze, scowling. Their momentary confusion gave Amelia the split second required to turn and run.

As she sprinted through the door, the man asked, “Was there someone out there?”

“If there was,” a maid replied, “they definitely got an eyeful.”

Hilarious laughter rang out, but Amelia ignored it and kept on, dashing down the hall as if she was a madwoman.

Distractedly, she’d realized that she’d loitered too long and was late for her appointment with the earl, which was alarming.

In light of her disoriented state, how would she sit and chat? How would she pretend she was fine, that she was glad to have arrived? How would she answer questions, drink tea, and smile prettily?

The squalid scene was burned in her mind, and it seemed an ill omen. If this was her beginning, how would the rest of it go?

CHAPTER TWO

“Miss Hubbard, we meet at last.”

“Lord Sidwell.”

Amelia curtsied deeply, anxious to show sufficient deference. She’d never been in the presence of such a distinguished person and didn’t want to make any mistakes.

“Sit, sit.” He waved to a nearby chair.

“I will, thank you,” she replied as she slid onto it.

They were in his library, and he was seated behind his desk. It was an imposing swath of mahogany that underscored his position in the world.

An older man, he was probably sixty, balding with muttonchops that covered much of his face. He was short and exceedingly plump from the rich diet his fortune provided, and while his gray eyes seemed alert and keen, he didn’t project an aura of authority or power. She wondered if—beneath the wealth and pomposity—he wasn’t a bit of a bungler.

“I haven’t ordered tea,” he said. “I thought we’d confer, then have our refreshments served in the main parlor.”

“Whatever you wish is fine with me.”

She forced a smile, but could feel it quavering. She was still undone by the raucous spectacle she’d viewed upstairs, and it was difficult to pretend she was calm and composed.

“I was nervous about this betrothal,” he surprised her by admitting, “but now that I’ve seen you, I’m absolutely bowled over.”

“Bowled over?” She chuckled. “Why would you be?”

“You’re quite stunning, Miss Hubbard.”

“Stunning? My goodness. I’m flattered that you would think so.”

“Miss Peabody insisted you were fetching, but people have hedged the truth when arranging a match such as this one.”

“Why would they?”

“Well, a father might have a daughter who’s not exactly winsome, so he’d exaggerate her assets to obtain the union he sought. I’m delighted to note that Miss Peabody was straightforward in her description of you.”

“What else did she say about me?” Amelia wasn’t sure she had the right to inquire, but she was dying to know how the engagement had come about.

“She said you were striking and educated and pleasant.”

“She said all that? I’m flattered again. I always hoped she had a high opinion of me.”

“She had a very high opinion.”

“I have a question that’s been bothering me.”

“I would imagine you have many. Which one is vexing you at the moment?”

“Why did you pick me?” She gestured around the ostentatious room. “Before I arrived, I had no idea your family was so exalted. I’m just an orphan and schoolteacher. I don’t have the antecedents necessary for one of your sons.”

“Don’t be modest, Miss Hubbard,” he haughtily intoned. “Miss Peabody told me all about your parents. Your father was a French count.”

“Yes, he was.”

“And his secret marriage to your mother! I don’t condone that sort of thing, but I understand true love was involved. I’m a romantic myself, so I found the story of such devotion to be charming.”

“Oh.”

So...Miss Peabody had lied. Amelia’s parents hadn’t been wed. Her mother had been a scandalous figure who’d lured her father away from his wife. It might have been the
love
match Miss Peabody claimed, but it was a sordid and unsavory kind.

Amelia knew she should speak up and correct the misconception, but she was flummoxed. Apparently, Miss Peabody had betrothed her, citing falsities, and Amelia had travelled all the way to Sidwell to carry out her part of the bargain.

If she confessed, would he break the betrothal and toss her out? Then what?

Her head was spinning as she reviewed her options. She had to disclose the error, but was terrified over the ramifications of a confession.

“Have you perused the packet I sent you?” he asked, cutting off her chance to come clean.

“Yes.”

“You’re marrying my second son, Lucas.”

“Yes, I was wondering when I’ll meet him.”

“He’s due to arrive shortly.”

“Marvelous.”

Her pulse raced. Up until this very instant, the entire affair had seemed like a dream. The notion of her having a fiancé might have been a philosophical matter to dither and debate. But he was about to arrive! There was no longer anything imaginary about any of it.

“He’s your same age of twenty-five.”

“I read that in the file you provided.”

“He’s been in the army for the past decade and enjoyed a...ah... distinguished career.”

For the first time, his gaze slid away, and his cheeks flushed, giving her the distinct impression that Lucas Drake’s army career probably hadn’t been distinguished at all.

She swallowed down a sigh. What had Lucas Drake done? Had he been booted out of the army? Had he resigned rather than be punished for an infraction?

It occurred to her that—in dealing with Lord Sidwell—she was far out of her league. She had no idea how to probe for information about Lucas Drake. She couldn’t even decide what questions she should be asking. In fact, she didn’t know if she was allowed to ask questions.

At that moment, if Miss Peabody had been sitting with them, Amelia would have vented her outrage. How dare Miss Peabody put Amelia in such an untenable position! How dare Miss Peabody immerse Amelia in chaos!

Lord Sidwell tried to muster his aplomb as he said, “There are some details I need to explain.”

“What are they?” Amelia braced, convinced she was about to hear very bad tidings.

But the butler hurried in to interrupt. He bent down and murmured in the earl’s ear. They exchanged several remarks that had the earl raising his brows in shock, then he nodded and the butler slipped out.

“Good news, Miss Hubbard,” he mumbled.

“What is it?”

“Lucas is here. He’s in the parlor, helping himself to our tea and cakes. Shall we join him before he gobbles up all our victuals?”

“Certainly.” If her pulse had been racing previously, it was utterly galloping now.

Suddenly, she was overcome by a thousand panicked thoughts. She wanted to rush up to her bedchamber, to check her hair and clothes. She wished she had a different dress, a pretty gown in a flattering shade that would complement her coloring and figure.

Instead, she would be introduced to Mr. Drake looking to be exactly what she was: a poverty-stricken, spinster schoolteacher. How could he have agreed to such a match? Why would he have had to stoop so low to find a bride?

Lord Sidwell stood and walked out, gesturing for her to accompany him. The butler was loitering, and he hustled on ahead, winding them through the deserted halls to the front of the mansion. He stepped into the parlor and announced them as if they were entering a London ballroom.

“Master Lucas,” he said, “may I present your father, Lord Sidwell?”

“By all means, Mr. Greaves,” Lucas Drake grumbled. “Bring his exalted self inside. I can’t wait.”

“And may I also present his houseguest, Miss Amelia Hubbard?”

“Let me guess, Mr. Greaves, am I meeting another possible bride?”

“I wouldn’t know, Master Lucas,” the butler judiciously replied.

“Show them in for bloody sake,” Mr. Drake griped. “I’m on pins and needles.”

Amelia was hideously embarrassed. In her lengthy journey to Sidwell, she’d had plenty of time to ponder what Mr. Drake would be like. Now, with his first words being spoken, he sounded grouchy and unhappy and even a tad cruel.

What sort of man would blithely insult a woman when she was standing a few feet away? What sort of man would insult his
fiancée
when she was standing a few feet away?

How many other bridal candidates had there been? Had he refused them all? Would he refuse Amelia? She’d traveled on the promise of a marriage. What if there would be no marriage?