12

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your kind words and support for my story. You all have been the encouragement for me to keep moving forward, even when I have gotten frustrated and discouraged. I read every comment (good and bad, haha!) and every email you send.

I do apologize for making you wait so long.

I wish to offer a special thank you to MasterfulJim for answering my pestering questions in the name of research. :)

All my love,

Emmeline

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Chapter 11

George sprawled on the dirt floor of the stable's store room. He shifted against the rough wooden wall he leaned against and grimaced in pain. His body felt as though that ham-fisted son of a bitch had cracked every bone he had.

The rasp of the door lock turning seemed loud in the silence of the dark, small room. The pale face of his aunt filled the door opening.

"George," she called softly. "Are you hurt badly?"

Shame and bitterness at the unfairness of his wretched situation roiled in his gut. "What do you care?" he said with a sullen edge. "You sure didn't do a damned thing to help me."

"And what could I do, pray tell?" she returned, pushing the door open wider with a protesting squawk of hinges. "I've brought you a blanket and some bread, you ungrateful lout." She stepped inside and eased the door closed once more before setting her items down at his feet.

George turned his face to the wall to avoid the beam of lantern light she turned in his direction. "It's your fault I'm in this mess," he accused.

"It is not!" Mrs. Biddleton snapped. "I was watching for you to bring the little trollop inside. You weren't supposed to try to get under her skirts out in the gardens then lose hold of her. You've no one to blame but yourself."

George glared back. He couldn't believe the governess had spilled her guts to the earl after he'd warned her not to, the stupid cow. And it galled him to no end that Lord Rockdale had arranged to have him beaten and locked up, merely by her word.

"The earl's too high and mighty to even come speak to me man to man," George muttered. "He might think he's got me beaten down, but I'm not going to stand for it," His hands balled into fists. "And as for the girl...just wait until I get my hands on her again."

Mrs. Biddleton cast her eyes upward. "Don't be any more of an idiot than you already are, boy. And don't mention my name to Lord Rockdale. There's no need for both of us to lose our positions."

George's narrowed gaze turned crafty. "You'd better be getting me out of here in a hurry then, shouldn't you? Who knows what I might tell his lordship."

His aunt shook her head dismissively and dusted her hands off. "Robbie and Ned are taking turns watching the stable doors. I don't think they're just going to let you just walk out, lad," She turned to leave.

"Wait," he said.

She sighed and turned back reluctantly.

"Find a way to get me out of this god-forsaken hole, or I will tell his lordship that it was your plan for me to bed his tart where he would see it."

"You wouldn't dare!"

George slumped back against the wall once more. "Just get me out," he snarled. "Or you'll be sorry you didn't."

***

Eliza shook off Rockdale's restraining hand on her shoulder. "Is there somewhere more private we can go?" she asked Sir Harold huskily.

"Eliza..." Rockdale's soft growl held more than a hint of warning.

Sir Harold licked his lips and reached for Eliza's elbow. "Alcove at the back."

Dimly aware of Rockdale stalking behind, Eliza allowed the older man to propel her across the ballroom. Her focus had narrowed down to a sole view of the man she had considered most of her life to be a dear friend of her father's. An icy calm settled over her but underneath the thin veneer of ice burned a vengeful fury sparked by the flames of hurt and betrayal.

"Eliza!" Rockdale's emphatic voice cracked like a whip. "I forbid you to—"

She cast a quick look back at the earl and raised her brows. "Forbid me to what, my lord? Act like a strumpet? Isn't that what this evening was all about?"

"Damn it, woman," he cursed. "No."

Reaching a back corner of the ballroom partially concealed by a tied-back curtain, Sir Harold lowered himself into one of a small grouping of chairs.

"Perhaps we can have her both at once, Rockdale," the older man proposed, tugging Eliza down into his lap. "I saw two men use a whore together once at a bawdyhouse, you know. Never taken a gel up the arse myself, but I wouldn't mind at all which hole I got to stick my cock into."

A wave of nausea at the eager, hungry glint in the man's eyes threatened to overwhelm her, but Eliza forced herself to remain still and fight her revulsion. Rockdale stood nearby, glaring at the two of them as though steam might roll from his ears at any moment. His hands clenched and opened repeatedly. She half-expected him to haul her bodily away from Sir Harold—whether for the older man's safety or Eliza's own, she wasn't sure.

"I used to dandle you upon my knee when you were younger," Sir Harold murmured while sliding his hand familiarly over her hip. "Do you remember?

"Oh, yes," Eliza answered. "I remember...my sister, also."

His breathing increased to a noisy rasp. "Sweet, lovely Abigail. A darling bud right on the cusp of blooming into full womanhood."

Eliza flinched at the twitch of his cock underneath her bottom. Oh, dear God, how she longed for a blade to stab into his black, perverted heart. Never more in her life had she wished for a sharp implement by which to inflict bodily harm.

Ah, well, she thought darkly. One must use what means one had at hand.

Eliza slithered off Sir Harold's lap and knelt on the floor before him. She fixed him with a wide-eyed gaze and slowly trailed her finger over her bottom lip. "Shall I show you what a good student I've been?"

"Don't," Rockdale bit out. He stepped forward but halted when she flicked him a narrow gaze. The earl plowed a hand through his hair and glowered at her.

Sir Harold fumbled in his haste to open the buttons of his trousers. "I can't tell you how long I've desired to see you properly educated in the art of—"

He broke off, gasping in alarm when Eliza roughly grabbed hold of his stubby length.

"Gently, my dear!" he panted.

Teeth bared, she used her free hand to jerk with all her might at the opening in his smallclothes.

Sir Harold squeaked when the thin linen noisily ripped wide. "Good heavens! What the devil have you taught her?"

Rockdale sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "I'm not quite sure, but I have to tell you, it's far more pleasant to watch from over here."

Abandoning Sir Harold's quickly deflating cock, Eliza seized his hairy bollocks with both hands. She was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal of dismay from the man to whom they were attached.

"Release me, you she-wolf!" Sir Harold gasped. "Rockdale, control your wench!"

"Sorry, Harry, but I rather prefer my cods where they are. I think you're on your own for this."

"Tell me, Sir Harold," Eliza asked, tightening her grip, "have you touched my sister in an unchaste manner?"

"No—no!" he cried, squirming in his chair. "Not that I wouldn't like to—ieeeee! No! Never! I wouldn't lay a finger on the girl!"

"See that you don't." Eliza leaned forward and let all the menace she felt bubbling up inside coat her words. "I

will

find a way to hurt you if you so much as go near my mother or my sister. Do you understand?"

"Quite so!" he grunted, his face pale and gleaming with perspiration.

"Excellent," she said. "Now, I wish for you to explain to me how you could possibly send the daughter of your supposed dear friend into a position that you

knew

was not merely to be a governess."

"Please," Sir Harold whimpered. "You're going to permanently damage my—ieee!"

"I am going to squeeze until they COME OFF if you do not tell me to my satisfaction!" Eliza hissed.

"Saints preserve me," Cavendish wheezed, casting his eyes wildly about. "It's

his

fault!" he glared to the side at Rockdale. "I owed the earl a favor...I knew he was drunk when he was babbling about acquiring a virgin to educate, but I thought it would be a grand lark—ieee! Damn it, you

bitch!

"

"I considered you like an uncle," she said in a low tone. "Did you ever have a second thought about sending me into the den of the devil?" Eliza firmed her lips to keep them from trembling. "I trusted you!"

She saw Rockdale twitch out of the corner of her eye, but Eliza kept her gaze centered on Cavendish.

Sir Harold flushed, though whether from chagrin or pain, Eliza couldn't have said.

"I thought it would be good for you!" he cried. "Everyone could see what a cold little fish you were. It ain't natural for a gel that looks like you to be hidden away at home!"

"Oh," Eliza said thoughtfully. "I see...you thought it would be good to ruin my life and turn me into an earl's whore?"

"Eliza, for God's sake!" Rockdale interjected, reaching out for her arm.

Her head whipped to the side. "Stay out of this!"

"I supplied you with the means to support your mother and sister!" Sir Harold returned indignantly.

Eliza's laugh had an ugly undertone. "I suppose you think I should be grateful!" She dug her fingers deeper into his saggy flesh and twisted.

Sir Harold's eyes rolled back in his head. "By all that's holy, she has unmanned me."

"You'll live," Rockdale said, shaking his head. Under his breath he murmured, "Might smart a bit tomorrow though."

"You're a disgusting excuse for a man, Sir Harold," Eliza spat, releasing the man's abused bollocks and rising shakily to her feet. Rockdale stepped immediately to her side, but she shook him off.

"Don't touch me," she said unsteadily.

"Don't do this." Rockdale's voice was soft but tense.

"I am heartily tired of being told what to do," Eliza told him, feeling suddenly as though she might cast up her accounts at any moment.

She turned her back on Rockdale's dark scowl and ignored Sir Harold, who was slumped over cradling his still-exposed genitals and moaning pitifully. Blinking in surprise, she realized a small crowd of guests had gathered near the pair of marble columns flanking the entrance to the alcove and were peering inside with interest.

Eyes narrowed, she strode in their direction, noting their wide eyes. "Anyone wishing to go next?" she asked, glaring around.

The partygoers scattered. All except Lord Sinclair's companion, Violet, who slowly drew near.

"Are you well, Rose?"

Eliza sucked in a shuddering breath, then another. "No, actually, I am not. Is there a ladies' retiring room nearby?

"Of course," Violet said. "I'll show you, come with me."

Rockdale stepped forward. "El—Rose, wait."

Violet drew her arm through Eliza's and smiled prettily at Rockdale. "Can you not spare your lady a few moments to freshen up? I'll take good care of her."

"Bring her straight back here, Violet," he said, displeasure etched on his face.

Eliza refused to even look in Rockdale's direction as Violet guided her out of the ballroom. Her thoughts were chaotic and confused. She wanted to both slap Rockdale across his handsome face and fall into his arms weeping.

Reaching the quiet of a small parlor designated as a retiring room, Eliza gladly sank into one of a pair of gilt chairs positioned before a large hanging mirror. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her frazzled nerves, and glanced over at Violet, who stood nearby watching.

"You needn't stay with me. I only require a few moments to collect myself." Unwelcome, angry tears welled into Eliza's eyes, and she sniffed and looked away in embarrassment.

"Hmm," Violet said. "Let's get you set to rights, shall we?"

Though puzzled as to why Violet would treat her with compassion, Eliza nonetheless sat quietly as Violet straightened and repinned her listing curls.

"Would you like to rinse your hands?" Violet asked with an arch of one delicate brow.

Eliza stared down at her hands, disgusted to think where they had so recently been. "God, yes," she answered fervently.

Expression impassive, Violet nodded and retrieved a nearby basin and pitcher.

Eliza thankfully poured the tepid water over her hands, wishing she could scrub her face as well.

"Thank you," Eliza murmured.

Violet perched on the next chair, crossing her long legs. Eliza couldn't help but feel relieved that the other woman had donned a white silk robe over her revealing corset.

"So tell me, Rose, why were you doing your best to rip off Sir Harold's saggy bits?"

Hands trembling slightly, Eliza crossed her arms over her chest. Goodness, she had made quite the scene, hadn't she?

"He betrayed my trust," Eliza said at last and pressed her lips together in a thin line.

"Rockdale didn't seem at all pleased," Violet mused. "Are you his mistress?"

"No!" Eliza answered quickly. "Well, not exactly." She sighed. "It's rather complicated."

Violet absently rubbed her fingers over her robe's lapel. "You almost seem as though you don't wish to be with him."

Ignoring the curious pinch in her chest, Eliza shook her head. "I just want to return to my family. But...everything is such a mess." Bowing her head under Violet's close scrutiny, she bit her lip and resolved to reveal no more of her strange situation.

"I hope you will forgive my candor, but I find this rather intriguing. I'd wager most females here would give their eyeteeth to be with the Earl of Rockdale," Violet said with a tinkling laugh.

"Well, I wouldn't." Eliza said with some asperity. "I had thought, despite his faults, that he had grown to truly have some genuine feeling for me, but after tonight, I realize how foolish I am. He desires my body but cares naught for my thoughts or wishes. I am but a toy for him to use and discard." A bitter note crept into her voice.

"Men rarely look beyond a fair face and form." Violet shrugged. "But I think you have it a bit wrong, dear Rose. Lord Rockdale certainly seems infatuated with you to me." She dimpled and glanced sideways at Eliza. "I'd lock you up in the linen closet if I thought he'd ever look with such longing at me."

"Infatuated with my body, perhaps." Eliza scowled. "What of respect, affection...and love?"

A shadow crossed Violet's face. "Love will not keep food in your belly or clothes on your back," she shot back, her tone vehement.

Eliza raised her brows in surprise, taken aback by the other woman's strong reaction.

Violet heaved a small sigh. "But...perhaps you are right. I've thrown away my opportunity for love because I was afraid of losing all my beautiful possessions." Her smile sad, she held up her hands to the light, and the jeweled rings on her fingers sparkled and gleamed.

The look she directed at Eliza held a hint of challenge. "Mayhap you will be lucky enough to win both Rockdale's heart and his wealth."

Eliza frowned. Contrary to what Violet suggested, she had no intention of trying to win Rockdale's affection or riches. Her only goal was to secure her family's future so that she could return home. Nothing else mattered.

Violet cocked her head and eyed Eliza intently. "Do you love him?"

Flustered, Eliza stood and smoothed her skirt. "I'd be a fool to love him."

She may have been forced to sacrifice her virtue and dignity, but she would indeed be addled in the brain to make the mistake of falling in love with a man like Rockdale.

"A finely figured man can make a fool out of the smartest of women," Violet said with a slight smirk.

"A smart woman looks beyond a handsome face and into the character of a man," Eliza countered.

Violet's smile turned decidedly naughty. "Ahh...but Rose, surely you've been...

acquainted

with Rockdale long enough to realize that a gentleman's character, no matter how esteemed, isn't what satisfies our most secret yearnings." Her voice dropped to a husky, almost seductive whisper.

Eliza felt her face erupt into flaming color. Immediately, images from her earlier carnal encounter with Rockdale leapt into her mind. She swallowed hard at the answering twinge of remembrance between her legs.

"I see you understand...it's written all over your face." Violet nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Desires of the flesh can be powerful. And sometimes... it is the men with darkened hearts whose touch a woman craves the most." She shivered slightly, her gaze drifting away before snapping back to Eliza. "I'm sure Rockdale has reveled in corrupting your innocence."

Eliza shifted uncomfortably. The other woman's words were unsettling, and she was unsure how to reply. She stiffened as Violet stood and stepped close.

She trailed a finger down Eliza's cheek. "The face of an angel and the body of a temptress. No wonder Rockdale has been ensnared." She lowered her hand and gestured toward the door. "But I'm afraid you've forever ruined your angelic appearance, at least for me, after attempting to reshape Sir Harold's codsack with your bare hands."

"He's lucky I didn't shove the hairy lumps down his throat."

The brunette burst into giggles. "I like you, Rose. You have spirit." She sobered, her gaze turning speculative. "It's almost time for my performance in the ballroom. Why don't you come along and assist me?"

"Oh, no, I don't think I could do that." Eliza shook her head automatically, though a bit intrigued by the suggestion.

"It will be fun!" Violet insisted, walking over to a nearby wooden cabinet holding a decanter and glasses. "And Rockdale will be livid," she added with a sly glance while pouring a goodly amount of blood-red wine into each glass.

Eliza accepted the proffered glass of wine from Violet. Suddenly, striking back at Rockdale seemed like a marvelous idea. She downed the wine in one long drink and stared at Violet evenly. "What would I have to do?"

***

Rockdale paced impatiently. What the devil could be keeping them so long? He glanced to the side and saw Sinclair approaching.

"Have you seen Violet and Rose recently?" Rockdale asked tersely.

"No, I have not. Say, Rockdale, I thought your lady was the shy, timid type, but what I've seen of her tonight has revised my earlier impression." Sinclair chuckled.

Rockdale scrubbed a hand across his mouth. This evening was not at all turning out how he had envisioned. All he wanted now was to find Eliza and take her back to the townhouse. He had thought to get a lurid thrill from showing Eliza's shapely body off at the masque and shocking her with the debauchery of the wild gathering, but now, everything had been ruined.

Seeing Eliza confront Sir Harold had been unexpectedly gut-wrenching for him. The depths of her anger and betrayal went deeper than he had realized. Rockdale stared blindly across the ballroom. She had shocked him a bit with the furious words she had spoken to Sir Harold. Did Eliza truly believe Verity Hall to be the "den of the devil?"

He felt almost...piqued that she would still harbor such ill feelings toward him. What they had shared earlier tonight had been something unique, something special. He had been so certain she was developing some tender feelings toward him. There was no way she could have given her body to him so freely tonight if she did not, he vowed.

And however maddening she could be at times, Rockdale craved more of what he had experienced with Eliza tonight. Their connection had been so much more than any lover he had bedded before. He wanted more of it. Much more.

It was time to be done with the pretense of her being the governess, he decided. As his mistress he could take her around town freely, show her all the things she would have never experienced in the country. He could give her the luxuries she deserved while having her in his bed every night if he so wished. And if she were under his protection, he could ensure she would be his permanently safe from scoundrels like Sir Harold and George, his footman.