LORD DECADENT'S OBSESSION (9 page)

Wycroft Park, the last thing she needed was difficulty with her transportation.

A hot bath and a good night's sleep would go a long way toward steeling her for

the day ahead. The innkeeper assured her that Wycroft Park was only ten miles away,

and he'd informed her that arrangements were being made to have a suitable carriage

waiting for her in the early afternoon of the next day.

She'd gone over and over what she would say to Lord Wycroft. However, none

of her planned explanations sounded as convincing as they had in London. She felt

almost foolish, traipsing over the countryside after a man she positively loathed, just so

he could spank her arse and give her a rogering she'd never forget. But then again, she

wanted what she wanted. She'd never felt so alive as when Lord Wycroft was inside

her, driving himself deeper, the linen of his trousers abrading her duly spanked bottom.

That last night they'd had together had been one of the most satisfying, and yet

disappointing nights of her life. Despite Lord Wycroft's admonitions, she had employed

her wooden phallus and had enjoyed all the pleasure she had been denied. The thought

of how decadent it was to even own such a thing made her quim weep.

There were times, during these past ten years, when she had silently thanked

Prentice Hyde for taking her maidenhead, for he had introduced her to a world of the

flesh she had come to appreciate. However, the result of that one decision had ruined

her life, for society placed great value on a woman's virtue. She'd adopted the stance

that a man should be happy to get someone with experience, lest he have to teach her

all the fine points, but she somehow couldn't envision such freedom for women. Men

wanted to marry a virgin, yet worked diligently to see how many they could deflower

before the parson's noose tightened around their necks.

In her cozy room at the inn, she plotted the next day. She almost wished he'd be

angry with her for her impertinence. She decided the approach she would take should

advance her original purpose in this venture. No man could resist a woman who

flattered his sense of self. She'd not seduce his body but the things she would do to his

mind would leave him wanting more.

* * * * *

Prentice rose with the sun, dressed as though going to his club and broke his fast.

He was prepared to do what he must. It was time.

The day was brisk, and a cool wind blew through his hair as he walked the short

distance to the Wycroft graveyard. He took sure steps, his boots eating up the ground.

The neat, granite stones marked the graves of his father, grandparents, and their

parents. Aunts and uncles were buried there as well, the site holding nearly thirty

family member's remains in all. He walked to the far side of the fenced-in plot to a stone

that looked dissimilar to the rest.

As his last act on Abigail's behalf, he'd had the granite cut to resemble a heart. A

sentimental gesture, to be sure, but beneath the hard slab lay his family—the wife he

had loved so completely, and a child of his flesh, whom he'd never gotten the chance to

know.

He rubbed his gloved fingers over the smooth top of the stone, reminding

himself of his mission. He squatted in front of it, tracing his fingers over Abigail's name.

He remained there for long minutes, the words he'd rehearsed so many times eluding

him. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath, and began to speak.

"You are gone, my darling, and now
I
must let you go." He swallowed hard, his

eyes stinging with as yet unshed tears. "I loved you more than I knew I was capable,

and you gave me all a man could want. I wish for your eternal peace. Take care of our

child, and please know I will always love you. I must go on and seek my way. I must let

you go."

He bent his head and kissed the stone, again brushing his fingers over her name.

A soft, warm breeze washed over him; he chose to accept that as a sign of Abigail's

understanding. Stooping there, he cried, pouring tears of relief and loss over the tiny

plot of ground that now housed what was once most important in this life. How could

it all be reduced to so little? The fact remained that it was. He removed a

monogrammed handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped his eyes and face.

"Thank you, dear Abby, thank you."

He stood and breathed in the fresh Cambridge air. He felt cleansed, free. He'd

unshackled himself from his past, glorious as it had been. He had no idea what the

future held, but he was ready for it. With a lighter heart, he made his way back to the

manor house. He had hours of travel ahead of him and a life to begin living.

Chapter Nine

After his return to his home, Prentice spent much of the morning in his library,

sorting through some books he wished to take back to London with him and finishing

up estate business. He'd enjoyed having contact with his tenants and learning more

about the management of the large estate. He wondered how he could have allowed

himself to become so complacent, leaving it all in the hands of Mr. Upton. But then

again, he knew he would continue to do so.

A light scratching on the door alerted him to Davies' presence.

"Yes, what is it?" He continued to read a letter before signing it.

"My lord, you have a caller."

"A caller? Is it one of the tenants?"

"I don't believe so, my lord, but she won't give her name."

"She?" Now his curiosity was peaked.

"Yes, sir. Shall I send her in?"

"Yes, do, Davies. I will be leaving within the hour. Is everything prepared?"

"Yes, my lord. Mrs. Polton has packed a basket of your favorites."

"Fine, please, send in our mystery lady."

Desiree's knees were shaking as the very proper English butler led her across the

black-and-white-tiled entrance hall, down a passageway, and stopped in front of a large

door. She'd heard the clicking of the pendulum on a large grandfather clock and the

tapping of her own heels on the marble tile, but otherwise, the house was as quiet as a

mausoleum.

The butler scratched at the door, and it was then she heard the familiar voice of

Prentice Hyde.

"Yes, Davies, come in."

Davies opened the door, and with an outstretched arm, ushered Desiree into the

expansive, darkly paneled room. The library was bright. The draperies at the five

bowed windows were open, allowing the early afternoon sun to pour into the room. A

strong smell of leather assailed her, prompting her to gaze upon the great many shelves

that lined the walls. She longed for time to explore the titles, but doubted she would be

afforded such a gift.

The butler had closed the door, leaving Desiree standing a goodly distance from

the desk where she saw Lord Wycroft, head down, writing furiously. The delay in her

discovery was welcome, but short-lived. She watched as he replaced his quill in the

gold holder on his desk, sanded the paper upon which he'd been writing, and then

raised his head.

With his golden brown eyes fixed on hers, he sprang from the chair and was

around the desk before she had the opportunity to blink.

"What are you doing here? Who told you where I was?"

He spat out the questions at lightning speed, making it difficult for her ascertain

whether he was angry or just surprised.

"I came to see you, and no one told me you were here." She tried to keep her

voice level, though she was trembling unbearably.

"No one but Lu . . . son of a bitch!"

"He did not tell me, my lord. I overheard him talking to someone at the Sapphire

Club. Serenity was mortified and begged me not to pursue you, but I had to see you. If

you will grant me a few minutes, I will be on my way."

"Overheard, huh? I suppose you were at the club to wheedle information out of

Serenity. I threatened everyone under pain of death."

"I know. Your butler, Byrd, lied rather unconvincingly when I inquired as to

your whereabouts."

"I'll have to give the man a raise. He does try ever so hard."

Desiree smiled but knew the conviviality had ended. The slight smile he'd shown

was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

"What is it that was so important you had to come all the way to Cambridge?"

Without being asked, Desiree sat on a leather chair near the fireplace. She saw

Prentice's eyes widen in surprise, but soon took the chair's twin opposite hers.

"Sir, I wish to apologize for whatever it was I did to cause your anger with me

that last night in London. I wasn't aware I had behaved in any manner other than as

you instructed. Given your precipitous demand that I leave, I fear I have done

something offensive, and for that, I apologize."

Prentice had crossed his legs, one over the other, his fingers laced over his flat

stomach. He looked so beautiful in this town clothes. She immediately hated herself for

that thought. He looked every bit the lord of the manor, and her body was even now

reacting to him in a way that could prove unwise, especially if he chucked her out for

yet another demonstration of how forward she could be.

"You did nothing, Mrs. Huntington, to cause my behavior. It is I who owe you an

apology, and it would have been delivered personally upon my return to London, had

you not been . . . well, no matter. You are here, and what am I to do with you? My

intent was to leave within the hour."

"You are leaving? Oh, I
have
made a muddle of this." She rose, nervous anew.

"Please, sit," he said, graciously extending his hand in invitation. "You have had a

long journey and must be exhausted. Might I arrange for a meal for you?"

She had eaten precious little for her morning meal, afraid to put too much in her

already jittery stomach. "Yes, a bit of food would not be unwelcome. Thank you."

"Davies!"

The butler appeared instantly. "Yes, my lord?" "Have Mrs. Polton prepare a light

repast. We will dine in here."

"Very good, my lord."

After the butler once again closed the door, Prentice turned to her, his eyes

partially shielded by his long eyelashes. "Am I to infer by your presence that you wish

to continue our arrangement?"

She was relieved that he had initiated the conversation. "Yes, my lord, I do. I had

feared I had inadvertently committed some offense."

"Nothing like that, I assure you. I swear I had every intention of calling on you

upon my return to apologize for my aberrant behavior. I can't explain how appalled I

have been at my own lack of consideration for your feelings."

The door opened, and Davies and a footman entered, carrying several trays.

Davies went about seeing to it that a table was set for the diners as the footman set out

plates of cold meats, bread, and cheese, as well as a bowl of fruit, cut into small pieces,

and sparkling glasses of fresh lemonade.

"Very good, Davies, my compliments to Mrs. Polton."

The butler nodded and led the way out of the room. After the servants had

closed the library door, Desiree picked up their earlier conversation.

"My lord, I do hope my appearance here has not upset you."

"I hope it is not presumptuous of me to assume you know what you might

expect after we dine."

Desiree smiled. "Not in the least, my lord. I could hope for nothing better."

* * * * *

"My plans have changed. Please have a room prepared for Mrs. Huntington,

Davies, and send Pagett in, will you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I will have one of the servants get you settled, and then I will come to you. Are

you sure you wish to resume our arrangement?"

"More than I can tell you, my lord."

A pretty little woman hurried into the room, straightening her plain gray dress.

She served in the kitchen, but since servants were at a premium, she would be now

serving in another capacity.

"Yes, my lord," she said in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Pagett, you will be Mrs. Huntington's maid during her stay. While her room is

being prepared, you may use my chamber. I believe you remember what my

requirements are, do you not, Mrs. Huntington?"

Desiree nodded and smiled.

"Good. Go along now, and I will see you in half an hour's time."

When the women left the room, Prentice expelled a loud breath of air. This was

exactly what he needed to complete the excision. At one time, this house rang with

Abigail's moans of pain and ecstasy. The servants must have grown accustomed to the

sounds they heard, for it was often that Abigail was draped over the bed or the

wonderful Biedermeier chaise in the master's chamber, as he spanked her and then

made love to her for hours on end.

He swallowed hard as he remembered his resolve. Today was the day he had

said goodbye to his past. An afternoon sequestered with Mrs. Huntington was just what

he needed to focus on the future.

* * * * *

Pagett had helped Desiree out of her morning gown and stays, leaving her

wearing her ivory silk chemise. When she was able to manage on her own, she

dismissed the girl, needing a few minutes to herself before the afternoon with his

lordship began.

She walked around the chamber and realized how excited she was to be there.

Putting her anger toward Lord Wycroft aside, she was determined to selfishly take all