Carnal Knowledge Ch. 15-16

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Emmeline
Emmeline
1,745 Followers

"I have an idea," Miles said. "What do you say we plan a little excitement for Rockdale?"

"How much is it going to cost me?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Miles patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me; it will be worth every penny."

***

The servants of Verity Hall huddled miserably around the scarred kitchen table. The cook shuffled the room, almost absently filling steaming teacups before settling heavily into a chair.

"Heads will roll for this," Cook muttered.

The others shifted uncomfortably. Simpson, seated at the head of the table, stirred his cup with a continuous clinking without ever taking a sip.

"His lordship was like a man possessed," the maid named Sally offered timidly.

And indeed he had been, John Willoughby reflected, sipping his own tea. Lord Rockdale had arrived home well after dark, soaked to the skin. The earl had insisted upon organizing new groups to search the grounds despite the cold, insistent rain.

John, along with all the other able men of the estate, had mucked over the surrounding area in miserable conditions for well over two hours in the darkness. None had searched harder or called louder than his lordship. The earl's voice had been almost gone by the time he finally paused the search for the night after Willie, one of the stable lads, had likely broken his ankle on the loose rocks around the pond.

It had pierced John's heart to see the earl standing at the water's edge, looking out into the mist settling over its depth, knowing Rockdale was wondering if his son could possibly have fallen in and drowned.

Even though John had discovered his employer was not the man he had once thought, and worse, it seemed he was a lecher who preyed on innocent girls in his household, still no father deserved to go through an ordeal like this night.

Thinking of the governess, his hands clenched. It continued to plague him, the thought of poor, frightened Eliza Lockhart being forced to surrender her maidenhood to such a rake. Did the earl continue to rape her, he wondered bleakly. How could John stand by and let such a horrible act continue?

"Let us go and and find our beds," Simpson said at last. "I'm sure the young lad will be found perfectly hale in the morning and likely sorry to have given all of us such a scare."

To John's ears, it sounded like the butler was trying to convince himself of his own words. The house itself had been searched and re-searched. It seemed the young boy had simply vanished... Or else been taken off the estate.

John winced, remembering how Rockdale had gone almost purely white in the face when Simpson had explained about George's mysterious escape from the stables.

Could George have taken young Nicholas for revenge? John shook his head at the mere thought of such an evil thing. His eye flickered over Mrs. Biddleton, sitting in the corner apart from the others and uncharacteristically quiet.

He had heard it whispered from the other servants that she had been the one to set the fire and free George from the stables. John wondered if perhaps they were jumping to conclusions simply because she was George's aunt. Surely, the housekeeper wouldn't risk her position to go expressly against the lord's wishes.

John let his tired mind wander again to Eliza. He felt a bit of surprise that she hadn't returned the same time as the earl. Mayhap this meant she and Rockdale had not been together during the time they had both been away from the estate. He sighed to himself, knowing it was likely folly to hope the young woman might ever be interested in him.

A loud banging, seeming to come from the vicinity of the front doors, startled them all.

"Good heavens," Simpson said, lurching out of his chair. "Is that someone knocking at this hour?"

"Perhaps it's news of the young lord," John said, springing to his feet to follow the butler as he hurried out of the kitchen.

They were met by a damp and muddy Lord Rockdale quickly descending the main staircase. The butler flung the door open and was nearly bowled over by a flurry of sodden skirts. The young female shoved a limp mass of curls off her cheek and glared around at the small assembly until her gaze rested upon Rockdale.

John realized with a jolt of shock that the female was Caroline Stanley, his lordship's cousin, and Lord and Lady Pelham's daughter.

Miss Stanley flung off her dripping bonnet in a dramatic flourish that caught Simpson across the chest. The girl pointed a finger at Rockdale.

"I hope you are pleased because you have ruined my life!"

Her accusation rang out loudly in the entry hall, and she promptly burst into noisy tears.

John was certain he had never seen Lord Rockdale look quite so poleaxed.

"Caroline!" The earl finally roared. "Stop that bawling this instant!" He threw up his hands. "What in bloody blazes are you doing standing in my foyer in the middle of the night?"

She paused mid-sob, seeming shocked at his reaction.

"William!" she gasped. "Did you just curse at me?"

His expression dark, Rockdale advanced on her, and John saw she had the good sense to back away. "Yes," he said. "And I may throttle you soon if you do not have a proper explanation as to why you are here. I hope you told your coachmen to wait outside because you are going right back to London! Where is your mother or your chaperone for God's sake?"

"Stop yelling at me!" she returned shrilly. "You are not my father! You cannot tell me what to do!"

"Yes, I bloody well can, you little idiot!" Rockdale visibly tried to rein in his temper. "You have no idea has happened here tonight. I have no time for your petty and frivolous concerns."

She spluttered indignation. "My petty concerns! How dare you! I sent my coachman to the stables because I have no intention of leaving until you agree to fix what you have done!"

"And, what, pray tell, have I done?"

"Your meddling has turned Papa against Lord Atherton! My father refused to allow me to receive his calls, and earlier today I saw Atherton riding in the park with Lydia Pratt! She will be his viscountess now, and it should have been me!" she wailed. "I was supposed to be Lady Atherton!"

Lighting fast, her hand darted out and cracked across Rockdale's face in a sudden slap.

Caroline drew her hand back to her mouth, and John tensed as silence fell over the room for a couple moments.

"You silly twit. My son is missing." Rockdale's soft words dropped like rocks into the quiet room. "I will not be forced to deal with you tonight. If you really think I have ruined your life by saving you from being shackled to a penniless, worthless piece of filth like Miles Barlow, you probably deserve to actually be with him."

He pointed at John. "Much to my dismay, it is too late to send her back to London tonight. See to her."

John frowned in surprise but clamped down on the protest that wanted to rip from his lips.

"But what about Lydia Pratt," Caroline whined. "Will you let Atherton marry her?"

Rockdale snorted. "From what I've seen, I think they probably will make a fitting pair. Besides, he'll likely run through her small dowry in a fortnight. Good night, Caroline."

The earl turned and made his way back upstairs without another word.

John turned to the softly weeping Miss Stanley and sighed inwardly.

At his gesture, a maid came forward to escort the young lady upstairs while he turned to go back outside to fetch her belongings. He discovered from the lone, young coachman that there weren't any to be found.

The impulsive girl had dashed away from her home, presumably without permission, without a maid or chaperone, and without even a stitch of extra clothing. He shook his head at such careless behavior. Her parents were going to be furious. Such thoughtless actions could compromise the young lady's reputation.

Upon cursory inspection, he did spy a small drawstring bag inside the carriage and trudged back to the house with it in hand. For what felt like the thousandth time that evening, he struggled out of his wet greatcoat and hat. He wasn't normally a drinking gentleman, but John swore if he managed to make it back to his father's house in the village, he would break out their dusty bottle of Irish whisky to knock off the chill that had sank into his very bones.

Unable to locate a maid, John ran a hand over his face in resignation and climbed the stairs, hoping to deliver Miss Stanley's purse and ascertain whether she was settled in for the night. Then, perhaps he could leave the estate and seek his own bed.

His gentle knock was answered by an equally weary maid.

"Can you give this purse to Miss Stanley?" John inquired. "Does she have everything she requires for the night?"

The maid was forestalled from answering when Miss Stanley pulled the door open wide.

The earl's cousin was swathed neck to feet in an overlong ivory dressing gown, presumably borrowed from somewhere in the household. She looked very young with her pale curls cascading down and her face appearing freshly scrubbed.

John immediately was discomfited by her dishabille and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Excuse my intrusion, miss. I fetched your purse from the carriage and thought you might like to have it."

"Mr. Willoughby, please won't you come in a moment? I realize in my haste to confront my cousin I did not get to ask what has happened to Nicholas."

Reluctantly John let his eyes be drawn back to Miss Stanley's face. "I cannot come into your room. 'Twould not be at all proper," he replied stiffly.

Caroline huffed impatiently. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I am completely covered and the maid is here. I refuse to address you through a doorway." She turned and walked to the fireplace, holding her hands out to the crackling flames.

John's eyes narrowed at her haughty attitude but against his better judgment stepped inside the room. The lithe shape of her body was silhouetted through the thin material of her dressing gown as she stood near the fire, but he once again averted his eyes.

Caroline plopped down into one of the chairs near the fire and gestured for him to do the same. "Why is my young cousin missing? No one will tell me anything helpful." She glared over at the maid who hovered near the door as though longing to make an escape.

"In truth, there is not much to tell," John explained and went on to detail what they knew about young Lord Langley's disappearance.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "I feel quite dreadful now for how I spoke to Cousin William earlier. I had no idea what had happened."

Caroline waved an imperious hand toward the maid. "Leave us," she ordered.

John's eyes widened in alarm. "Don't g—" He broke off as the door clicked shut behind the maid.

"You must think me quite the featherbrain to come here like this." She pinned him with a hard look as though daring him to answer.

John tilted his head and smoothed the fabric of his trousers over his thighs before answering. "I think you have acted impetuously, and one can only hope your actions will not negatively affect your reputation."

"Pish," she said, sniffing. "I'm sick to death of my parents swaddling me so tightly I cannot breathe! Always making every decision for me. Never allowing me to feel in control of my own life! I want to experience things!" She leaned forward. "Don't you see? If I were a viscountess I could be someone of significance instead of merely Lord Pelham's daughter."

"Ah, but Miss Stanley, a title doesn't give you any guarantee of happiness. It merely places you under the authority of your husband. That is why Lord Rockdale is concerned that you would make a good match. Not just for the title, but someone who will treat you well."

"But shouldn't I be the one to decide?" she demanded.

"You are yet young and innocent..."

"That's because no one will allow me do anything!"

"Gently bred young ladies need to be protected," he began.

"Lydia Pratt has been kissed, several times!" She glared at him as though he were personally responsible for debauching the absent lady. "She once let Jonathan Quimby take down her bodice and kiss her naked breasts! Who knows what else she has done! Perhaps this is why Atherton is pursuing her." She sniffed. "I don't know anything useful. I've never even been kissed," she finished sadly.

Stunned and embarrassed to be slightly aroused by the young lady's unexpected graphic outburst, John shifted back into his chair. "Your husband should be the one to introduce you to...to...ahem...that is to say; you should wait until you are married to be concerned with such matters." He winced inwardly, realizing how pompous he sounded even to his own ears. "I should go. It's not--"

Caroline blew out a loud sigh. "Not proper, yes, I know. Tell me, Mr. Willoughby, are you always such a stick in the mud?"

He stiffened in disapproval before relaxing somewhat. "Yes, I suppose I am."

A smile lightened up her face as she giggled. "Well, at least you are honest, sir."

"I would better describe myself as striving to be a true gentleman."

She scooted forward in her chair. "Tell me, then, do true gentlemen ever do naughty things?"

"If we do, we do not discuss such matters with young ladies," he returned coolly and moved to stand.

She stood as well, moving entirely too close for his comfort.

"Mr. Willoughby, I am so tired of my ignorance regarding men. My parents will never let me be alone with one not related to me, and I... I mean, who knows when I would have another chance at this... You and I are quite comfortable together, are we not?"

"I beg your pardon?" John blustered. "We are barely acquainted!"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "I have already decided. You should kiss me now while I have a rare moment alone." She lifted her chin and closed her eyes. "Well, please proceed."

Aghast, he backed away and frowned down at her. "Miss Stanley, though I am not of your social standing that fact does not mean I am a man with whom you can trifle. I find your actions tonight unseemly to a shameful degree, and I will endeavor to strike this entire interlude from my memory since you are obviously overwrought."

"But, Mr. Willoughby... John, it is because you are so clearly a gentleman that I have decided it should be you." She dimpled and approached him once more, laying a hand on his sleeve that seemed to burn his skin clear through the fabric. "I know you will not attempt to take advantage of me. All I want is one simple kiss. Nothing more." Her eyes lowered. "Unless you find me me ugly and repulsive."

Anger, unexpected and hot, bloomed into sudden life in his chest. Really. How dare she? The presumptuous little baggage apparently thought he was some sort of puppet she could command at will.

"You do not know me, and you are beyond foolish to take such liberties with your innocence," he grated out.

She bit her lip and looked down for a moment before slowly meeting his angry gaze, a single tear snared in her eyelashes. It slid slowly down her cheek.

Dear God, she was a manipulative little thing! Did she really think being the daughter of a lord gave her the power to order him to do anything?

"I know it's a bit mad to ask, I know it is! But..." Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and a light blush swept into her cheeks. "Please, John."

"We are not intimate enough acquaintances for you to address me by my first name," he said brusquely. Seemingly of its own volition, his hand raised and hovered over the side of her face, almost but not quite touching her skin. His thumb lightly brushed the damp trail.

She shifted infinitesimally closer. "I give you leave to call me Caroline." A smile ghosted over her lips. "Does that make us intimate enough for you to allow me this one small indulgence?"

"No, it doesn't." His fingers traced over the smooth line of her jaw. Her eyes drifted closed, and she swallowed hard.

"What...what would convince you we were...intimate enough?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

The thinking part of his brain that had so valiantly been commanding him to escape at once from this preposterous, yet so dangerous, situation faded into dull clamor when she opened languorous, deep-green eyes and laid her fingertips tentatively on the lapel of his jacket.

"Nothing," he answered before bending his head and allowing his fingers to spread over her jaw. "We are too far apart in station to be...intimate...in any fashion," he whispered against her mouth.

John cursed himself for a fool of the worst sort and blamed his exhausted state as he closed the final distance and covered her lips with his own. Intending a gentle exploration, he leisurely slid his mouth over hers, learning the texture and plumpness of her lush mouth.

She sighed, a very female noise that went straight to his groin, and he tasted her breath, sweet and somehow so delicious. Her mouth moved against his, soft and innocent, returning his kiss.

He felt her sway slightly and John, fully meaning to break their embrace and step back, instead slid an arm around her waist to steady her, splaying his palm over her back, urging her closer.

"Open your mouth," he muttered, his hand sliding from her jaw into her hair. He felt her shiver as she complied. His tongue pushed past her parted lips to delve inside, sampling the heady taste of her mouth.

John swallowed her low moan and tumbled into a heady swirl of sensation. His cock pulsed eagerly when her tongue tentatively touched his. He pulled her flush against him, breast to groin, devouring her open mouth as her arms snaked slowly around his neck.

Damn him, she was so responsive. Male instinct flickered to life inside him like an open flame igniting in his gut, and he groaned in near despair.

Caroline shifted in his embrace and sucked in a quick breath when the hand exploring the length of her back moved lower to mold over her little round arse.

"Shh," he crooned, directing her a couple steps backward, trapping her between his body and the paneled wall of the bedroom. "I've got you, sweetheart."

Her brow furrowed and her mouth opened as though to speak, but he swallowed her comment by once again plunging his tongue between her lips.

John loosened the grip of his other hand on her hair and deliberately drifted down her chest to trace the firm mound of her breast. She gasped against his mouth when he jerked at the tied sash of her gown, loosening the fabric until he could impatiently push it aside. The ribbon sash slithered free, and the material gaped open, offering him tempting glimpses of her nakedness beneath.

Oh, Christ. He released her mouth to run his hot gaze over the front of her exposed body. She was so beautiful, finely formed and unblemished. Her shape was delicate but unmistakably female with small, high breasts. Her skin flowed like poured cream and felt invitingly warm to his touch. He could feel the blood pounding a savage beat in his ears.

His hand had only just closed around one deliciously naked breast when she squeaked indignantly and jerked out of his embrace.

"Mr. Willoughby! You were supposed to give me one kiss!" she hissed, breathing heavily, snatching up the sides of her gown and closing it tight.

John paused a moment to compose his thoughts and the almost overwhelming urge to rip that damn gown completely off her. He smiled tightly. "Have you now revoked the intimate degree of our acquaintance, Caroline?"

"I only asked for a kiss," she whispered.

"Indeed. Are you sure that's all you need from me tonight?"

"Of course, it is!" she snapped, red tinting her cheeks as her gaze skirted away from him.

"There are other ways of kissing I could show you if you really wanted to... expand your knowledge," he said, with a hint of a challenge.

Eyes wide, she shook her head.

John was abruptly ashamed of himself. He gathered what remained of his wits and lifted a brow while doing his best to appear unaffected. "Let this be a lesson to you," he said severely. "I would advise you in the future to be cautious in what liberties you invite with your person. Men will always take more than you are prepared to offer. Even... a gentleman."

Emmeline
Emmeline
1,745 Followers