Page 71 of Only a Mistress Will Do

Luck shone a glimmer on her and she walked to dinner in the company of Madge, an upstairs maid who had been sent to fetch a shawl for the duchess. Once in the servant’s hall, Violet relaxed a measure, enough to enjoy the excellent chicken that was Mrs. Rose’s specialty. She spoke little unless asked a question, keeping an ear on the conversations surrounding the Downing’s doings. Lady Downing had repaired to the drawing room with the ladies when Violet and the others had sat down to eat.

“Have the gentlemen joined the ladies, Mr. Eccles?” she asked nonchalantly when the butler returned from a summons upstairs.

“Yes, Miss Carlton. They’ve just now gone in. I’ll take another slice of currant cake, Mrs. Rose, if you don’t mind.” The older man sat wearily at the head of the table.

“Right away, Mr. Eccles.” Mrs. Rose brought the whole cake to the table and cut a slice for him. “Another for you, Miss Carlton?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Rose. The first was delicious, but I’m quite full enough after your delightful chicken.” Violet could be enthusiastic, for the cook knew her business well. “I believe I will say good night now. I need to check on Anna. Thank you for allowing me to dine with you.” She wished she could do so each day for the servants here were a friendly if somewhat reserved crew. She’d like to get to know them, but that was frowned upon as beneath her position. “Good night.”

Violet smiled and nodded to each person, then quietly slipped from the hall. A swift trip back to the nursery and she could lock herself in her bedroom for the night. She hurried down the main corridor, first past Lord Downing’s study, then the library. The creak of the library door shot a jolt of fear down her spine. The hairs on her arms stood straight up and she bent her head and put on a burst of speed.

Too late.

Simon Harper stepped out of the library and snagged her hand as she raced by. He hauled her into the dim room and closed the door quietly behind her. The rasp of the key in the lock sent chills down her back.

“Thought you’d be sly didn’t you, Violet?” He pulled her against him. His hot breath in her ear made her clench her teeth. “I like a little spirit in my girls.” Seizing her head, he dragged it up to his. “But only a little. You’d do well to remember that.” With more force than last time, he mashed his lips against hers, trying to push his tongue into her mouth.

She clamped her lips together, determined to fight, and backed away, only to find her way blocked by a library table.

He stabbed at her mouth with his tongue, advancing inward only to be stopped by her clenched teeth. He clamped his hand into her hair and jerked it, almost tearing it from the roots.

Violet cried out, her eyes tearing at the sudden pain.

With a triumphal cry he thrust his thick tongue into her mouth, almost choking her.

She pummeled his chest, then gave a great push, sending him reeling backward into a chair. She wretched, coughing to dispel the sickening sensation of his tongue in her throat.

“Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll get used to that in no time. I’ve a fondness for ladies’ mouths as you’ll find out.” His dark eyes brightened, as a gleam of candlelight revealed his excitement.

Violet’s stomach lurched, almost gagging her anew. Madame Vestry had told her all the places men liked to have women put their mouths on them. She staggered backward, bent on flight.

He grabbed her arm, then grasped her face in a cruel grip. “You’ll come to like it eventually.” He scrutinized her face, then let go and let his gaze wander down to her breasts. “Yes, these beauties must be let out to play.” Grasping the top of her bodice, he ripped the garment open.

“No!” Violet started back, trying to grab the pieces of her gown and cover her exposed stays. Tears of rage streamed down her cheeks. To hell with safety. She had to get away before he threw her onto the library table and debauched her right here. She opened her mouth to scream.

He spun her around, his brutal hand clamped over her mouth, his arm round her neck. “None of that.” He chuckled in her ear. “Struggle and I’ll call Father to witness your depraved nature, though I’d rather this be our little secret. Stuck down here in the country with an ailing wife, well, a man has needs as I’m sure you know.” He slid his hand into her corset and hauled her breasts out one at a time. “There. They look so pretty when they’re free, don’t they?” He nodded toward the Venetian curio cabinet whose mirrored back reflected a dim image of his hands on her naked body.

Violet sobbed, terrified and humiliated as he slid busy fingers over her nipples.

He pinched one suddenly, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. “I might have had you at Madame Vestry’s had I seen you first. Damn Trevor for taking you away before I got a taste.” He ran his tongue up the back of her neck. “Of course, I’ll have more than a taste now.” He gave her nipple a vicious twist.

Violet screamed in agony.

The library door burst open.

The wrath of God blazing from his eyes, Tris strode in.

Harper pushed Violet toward him and made a mad dash for the door.

Violet staggered, but stayed on her feet, relief washing through her.

Tris grabbed Harper by his throat, lifted him off his feet, and threw him into the towering glass curio cabinet. Shattered glass cascaded over him. Several small volumes, a china figurine, and a jet-black stone statue of a cat fell onto Harper, lying sprawled on the floor. A large quartz rock teetered on the edge of a broken shelf then toppled onto his head. He yelped, then grasped his head and moaned.

Disregarding the broken glass, Tris seized the man by his jacket, hauled him up and drove his fist into his stomach.

Harper doubled over, retching.

Shaking as though she’d emerged from an ice-cold pond, Violet tried desperately to repair her appearance. She pushed her breasts back inside her stays and clutched the ends of her torn bodice, trying to cover herself. Her hands shook so hard, however, the material kept slipping through her fingers. What could she do? Nothing save cross her arms over her chest, and huddle in the corner of a leather chair.