The Devilish Trollop, page 5
Of course, they hadn’t actually tumbled when it came down to it. His face burned hot with embarrassment over how quick he’d been to fire off. He hadn’t been so desperately excited since he was a green youth spying on village girls bathing in the river on his family’s estate. But then, he’d always had a weakness for female flesh. Still, there was nothing to be proud of in the way he’d been so hot over the sight of Felicity pleasuring herself that he’d spent before they could truly enjoy each other.
Next time, he promised himself, just as he’d promised her. A devilish grin spread across his face. Next time he’d find a way to land her in the same position in his bed, all warm and cozy, and he’d put every one of the carnal skills he’d learned in his years of debauchery into making her shiver with desire instead of cold and come because his mouth, and not her own hand, was teasing her. He had a feeling she’d be up for some of the more exotic forms of congress he’d learned through the years. And that mouth of hers. That mouth had yet to—
“Well done, Whitlock.”
Sully nearly jumped out of his skin as Lord Cunningham strode suddenly up behind him and slapped him hard on the back. The shock of being overtaken by the man was so strong that the edges of his vision went black for a moment.
“Well done,” Lord Cunningham continued, keeping his hand planted on Sully’s shoulder and forcing him to pick up his place. “Didn’t I tell you that chit was game?”
Heat flooded Sully’s face and neck, both from embarrassment and anger. “I’ve no idea what you mean, sir,” he said tightly.
Lord Cunningham laughed. “I spotted the two of you tangled up beneath that willow tree back there,” he said. “Quite a bit of pink I saw, which can only mean one thing.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sully said, though the fact that he couldn’t look Lord Cunningham in the eye did nothing to help him.
“I bet she begged for it,” Lord Cunningham went on. “Girls like that always do. Tell me, was her cunny tight or has she worn it out already?”
“Sir, I will thank you not to speak about Miss Murdoch in such a way,” Sully snapped, scowling.
Lord Cunningham ignored him. “I bet she made those glorious female noises women make when they really enjoy being fucked,” he went on. “Did she squirt when she came?”
“Sir,” Sully barked, jerking away from him. “I insist you be silent at once. You are mistaken about Miss Murdoch’s character, and I will not stand for insults such as yours.”
Although there was a fair chance that Lord Cunningham wasn’t mistaken at all. Felicity had been eager to display herself to him. She showed no signs of reticence whatsoever. She’d been on her back in a trice and pleasured herself as though she’d done it many times before. And he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he had thrust into her instead of spilling the way he had, she would have welcomed him. Respectable women did not behave like trollops. Potential viscountesses did not display themselves like whores in heat.
Not that he had any particular desire to marry a virgin. Purity was not on his list of requirements for a bride. Felicity was obviously intelligent and he would be lying if he didn’t admit how fetching he found her outlandish behavior. He still had every intention to get back between her legs as soon as possible. All he had to do was ascertain her dowry and he would have the banns read immediately.
“I know what you’re thinking, boy,” Lord Cunningham said, barging into his thoughts like an unwelcome stench.
Sully prayed he did not.
“It is a bloody shame that the biddable ones aren’t marriageable and that the marriageable ones aren’t biddable,” Lord Cunningham went on, chuckling. “It is every man’s dream to have a wife that behaves as a whore in the bedroom and a saint in the parlor. But alas, the reality is that young and vital men like you need a society bride with an income to match her status.”
He fixed Sully with a look that left no doubt in his mind that Lord Cunningham—and probably every other gentleman at the party, and half the ladies—knew he had to marry for money.
“Miss Murdoch is a lovely woman,” he said, even as his heart sank under the weight of what felt increasingly impossible to him.
“She is, she is,” Lord Cunningham agreed with mock solemnity. “Especially from certain angles.” He laughed and made a rude gesture. When Sully didn’t join his mocking laughter, he sighed. “Take it from me, young man. Marry a girl like my Malvis. Keep the like of Miss Murdoch as your mistress, if you can, but don’t impoverish yourself further by wedding a pauper.”
The last of Sully’s hopes crashed. It was true, then. Felicity had no fortune to speak of.
But why should you believe the likes of Lord Cunningham? The voice in the back of his head was persistent, if nothing else. He didn’t know Lord Cunningham from the local butcher. For all he knew, the man could be feeding him tripe for his own ends.
Even if he was, the facts didn’t seem to add up in Felicity’s favor. She was loose. The wealthiest and most fashionable ladies at the party seemed to shun her. She’d attended a school with a wicked reputation. Sense battled against lust within him, gradually gaining ground.
“Approach it thusly,” Lord Cunningham continued. “This house party has barely begun. You have almost six full weeks to make your choice. Why purchase the pot when you can spend the next six weeks tasting the honey while shopping for a finer hive?”
Sully frowned. “Indeed.”
It was all the answer he was willing to give. He needed more information before he could come to any conclusion about whether Lord Cunningham truly did have his best interests at heart or whether he was playing him for a fool. Either way, he didn’t suppose it could hurt to become acquainted with at least a few of the other ladies.
“It was simply the most invigorating experience of my life,” Felicity sighed to her friends as they entered the grand parlor later that evening.
The furniture in the parlor had been pushed aside and dozens of couples were dancing in the center of the room as a modest string quartet played popular music to one side. Caro had insisted it wasn’t a ball, but seeing as dancing was the most socially accepted way for men and women to mingle and speak to each other without causing a fuss, she planned to offer as much of it as possible. Better still, she’d arranged to have the chaperones attend a sampling of French wine in a parlor at the other side of the house. Mrs. Wallace was no doubt there and in heaven.
“I still cannot believe you would do something so scandalous,” Ophelia whispered, her eyes as round as they usually were when anything remotely interesting was being discussed. Though in all fairness, it might not have been the conversation so much as the squirming reticule Eliza carried that left her in a state.
“I can believe it,” Eliza laughed. “You have no idea how deviant our darling friend can be when she puts her mind to it.” She closed her hands around the reticule to coax the frog it contained to stay still.
When Felicity had returned from the pond with only one frog to show for her efforts, the plan to teach Lady Malvis a lesson had shifted from loading her wardrobe with frogs to presenting her with just the one, concealed within the reticule. They’d decided that their prank would have the greatest impact if Lady Malvis were to lose her composure in public. As delightful as the prospect was, Felicity’s mind was entirely elsewhere.
“There’s nothing deviant about enjoying natural entertainments with a gentleman,” Felicity said with an offhanded shrug, though she was careful to lower her voice as they took up a spot near several other groups who were carrying on conversations instead of dancing.
“Oh, I like that,” Eliza said, brightening. “‘Natural entertainments’. I shall use that one when describing my activities at some point.”
“And do you know who you will be naturally entertained with yet?” Felicity asked, surveying the room as it slowly filled with guests transitioning out of the dining room. In truth, she was searching for Sully. She’d barely seen him all afternoon, and at supper he’d been seated at the other end of the impossibly long table from her.
“I have one or two gentlemen in mind,” Eliza said with a mysterious smile, staring out across the room.
Felicity couldn’t determine if she was looking at any number of the refined lords she had yet to be introduced to or Rufus’s younger brother, Thaddeus—no, Lord Thaddeus was far too young—or the stodgy and stiff-backed Mr. Gibbon, the Bow Street Runner. She ceased caring as well the moment Sully stepped into the room.
He was dressed impeccably, though once again, Felicity could see that his suit wasn’t as new as those that many of the other men wore. It was doubly attractive, however, now that she had seen what lay beneath it. His breeches seemed particularly well-tailored as she imagined the sight of his fully erect cock as it had erupted that morning. The whole thing made her cheeks pink and her sex ache.
“Careful,” Eliza warned her with a nudge. “If you look like that when he walks over here to join us, everyone within a mile radius will know there is something inappropriate between you.”
“Then I shall endeavor to conceal my natural admiration,” Felicity said, unable to stop herself from giggling.
Except that Sully did not stride across the room to join them. Far from it. He seemed to head deliberately in the other direction, toward the Marlowe sisters. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t spotted her either. In fact, he looked directly at her with a look of supreme regret before giving his full attention to the timid sisters.
“Oh, dear,” Ophelia said, voicing a pale copy of Felicity’s thoughts. “Whatever could be the matter?”
“You left things on good terms with him this morning, did you not?” Eliza asked.
“I thought I did,” Felicity said, chewing her lip. “He spoke very clearly of the next time we would meet.”
And yet, it seemed that next time was not to be that evening. The Marlowe sisters seemed quite interested in what he had to say, though their father didn’t seem to have the patience for the conversation. He waved to one of the chaperones standing nearby. That lady tugged her charge—a tall, willowy young woman wearing a garish pearl necklace—away from the conversation she’d been having, then all but shoved her at Sully.
Felicity swallowed hard. Had she made a horrible mistake by giving herself to Sully so easily? He hadn’t seemed at all like the sort who attended a house party simply to carve as many notches on his bedpost as possible. She’d believed there had been a genuine connection between them. It left her cold to think she might have been wrong.
“Look, there she is,” Eliza whispered sharply, dragging Felicity out of her thoughts.
Sure enough, Lady Malvis had just walked into the room with one of the young ladies she’d made a fast acquaintance with. Her odious father was a few steps behind her. He caught Felicity’s eye and winked at her with lascivious audacity. Felicity would have turned up her chin and made a show of ignoring him if Eliza weren’t bubbling over beside her.
“Who should do it?” Eliza asked. “Me? Felicity? She’d suspect Ophelia the least of all of us.”
“I couldn’t,” Ophelia said, blanching.
“You then, Fliss,” Eliza said.
“No, I think it should be you,” Felicity insisted. The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere near Lord Cunningham, and he seemed determined to stay close to his daughter’s side.
“The footman,” Eliza squeaked, then dashed away from them to where a footman had just entered the room with a tray of glasses.
Felicity and Ophelia watched as she had a quick word with the lad, handed him the reticule, then pointed to Lady Malvis. A moment later, Eliza skipped her way back to them, and the three of them huddled together as the footman carried the reticule across the room to Lady Malvis.
“Ready?” Eliza said, sucking in a breath as the footman caught Lady Malvis’s attention. “Aim,” she went on as Lady Malvis took the reticule. “And fire,” she squealed as Lady Malvis opened the reticule.
It happened exactly as they imagined it would. With a frown, Lady Malvis untied the strings of the reticule and opened its mouth. The restless frog made a desperate bid for freedom, leaping out of the pouch and straight at Lady Malvis’s face. Lady Malvis screamed at such a high pitch that every conversation in the room paused, the quartet stopped playing, and a glass shattered somewhere. She continued screaming as the frog landed on her shoulder, then, seeing brighter prospects, leapt onto her head.
“Get it off, get it off,” Lady Malvis screamed, flailing her arms and dancing around as though she could shake the frog away.
The frog remained firmly where it was, though, and not even her father’s efforts could dislodge it from the feathers adorning her hair. Her friend shrieked and dashed as far away as she could, as did several other young ladies standing nearby. Several of the gentlemen laughed heartily as Lady Malvis burst into tears, continuing to flail. The footman who had delivered the reticule rushed in to help even as Lord Cunningham began to curse him in language that was far too colorful for mixed company.
Eliza roared with laughter, and even Ophelia couldn’t keep her mirth inside. They both shook and rolled with delight. Felicity laughed as much as she could, but all of the fun had been sucked out of the prank for her. Especially when she caught Sully’s eye across the room. He was laughing as well, but there was a certain wistfulness in his expression. It grew deeper when he glanced across the room to Felicity. He nodded to her as though she’d done well, then turned back to Lettuce Marlowe to say something closer to her ear.
In the end, the frog leapt off of Lady Malvis’s head and began to terrorize the other party guests. The footman chased it and several ladies scrambled out of the way. It was young Imogen Marlowe who ended up catching it, with the assistance of Lord Thaddeus. Felicity could have sworn she saw sparks fly as their hands met over the hapless amphibian. That only served to sink her spirits further.
“I simply do not understand,” she said later, after the excitement had died down, Lady Malvis and her father had left the room, and the dancing had resumed. “Everything was so perfect this morning, and now this.”
Eliza’s high spirits sobered somewhat, and she looped her arm through Felicity’s with a sigh. “The hour is early yet. We’re all here for the summer. I’m certain you’ll be able to win Lord Whitlock’s heart in no time.”
“I hope you’re right,” Felicity said.
Eliza turned the conversation to the other men at the party, but Felicity’s heart wasn’t in it. Neither did she feel like dancing or taking a turn about the room, or doing anything that she should have done. All she wanted to do was slink back up to her room in defeat and sleep until she could determine a more useful course of action.
“Forgive me, but I want to retire early,” she told her friends once her mind was made up. “You stay here and continue to enjoy the company, though,” she said, particularly as the exotic Mr. Saif Khan was coming their way, his eyes trained on Ophelia.
“Are you certain?” Eliza asked, but she too looked ready to bolt in order to give Ophelia a moment alone with Mr. Khan.
Felicity slipped away before the conversation could go any further. She dodged her way around a group of young ladies discussing fashion and a cluster of men discussing the latest developments in France.
She had nearly reached the door when she caught the sound of Mrs. Wallace’s groggy voice out of the corner of her awareness. Apparently, the inconvenient woman had wandered away from the wine tasting.
“Of course, the real way to nab yourself a wealthy bride is to get her in a compromising position,” Mrs. Wallace said in a slurred voice, and to none other than Count Camoni at that.
“I didn’t realize that was an acceptable tactic,” Count Camoni said.
Felicity was surprised to find that he sounded more like an Englishman than an Aegirian. Then again, his mother was English and, if she remembered correctly, had just remarried a duke.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Wallace went on. “It’s like I’ve been telling all the titled gentlemen here since we arrived. Just get Miss Murdoch alone and lift her skirts and her fortune will be yours. I’ll even arrange to have you found out to make the deal final.” She paused and tapped a finger on her chin, which caused her to sway dangerously. “I wonder how much the old man would pay for a count.”
“Please excuse me, madam,” Count Camoni said, his face red, marching swiftly away from Mrs. Wallace.
Felicity rushed on into the hall before her horrible chaperone could spot her. Rage boiled through her. Was that what the woman had told everyone at the party? Had she said as much to Sully? Did Sully think she would throw her leg over whichever gentleman asked?
Hard on the heel of those thoughts, she burst into laughter. What a farce. She couldn’t help but find it funny, even as it enraged her. There was no telling what everyone at the party thought of her, particularly if the rumor of her lax morals had made its way through the guests.
Immediately after that thought came an odd sense of resolve. She marched down the hall toward the stairs then up, intending to go to her room. But she had no plans of sleeping, not at all. Her tactics where Sully was concerned needed to change. If she had gained a reputation as a jade, then she might as well enjoy it. At the very least, she needed a chance to explain the truth to Sully, to explain her motivations for behaving so wickedly that morning.
And if that failed, perhaps Mrs. Wallace had a valid plan after all. If she was caught in a compromised position with Sully, then they would be forced to marry and all her problems would be solved.
Chapter 5
The evening was a disappointment of colossal proportions.
“Tell me, is it my imagination, or does every eligible young lady at this party seem practically identical to the others?” Sully asked Adolphus Gibbon as the two of them stood to the side of the room, watching the remaining dancing couples as the night wore on.
