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A Talons & Temptations Historical Monster Romance
Content Advisory:
Age gap, class disparity, and a fantastically sensitive genital piercing. Talons & Temptations is the same high heat/low stakes combination you’ve come to expect from me, in a historical setting - enjoy!
Chapter 1
The High Tea was inescapable. Strewn through salons and drawing rooms, ladies’ chambers and in gentlemen’s smoking parlours, present on tea trays throughout London. It was not uncommon to encounter the Ton’s favorite tattler clutched in hands on every street corner in the city on the day it circulated.
So omnipresent was the High Tea’s influence that the well-heeled participants in the London marriage market considered and reconsidered their every move, too aware that any minor misstep might be reported on. Who had been spotted canoodling with whom and whose season had ended in disgrace, predictions on which of the season’s diamonds would land the most dashing duke, and scandals of incomparable juiciness, with judgements ranging from she shouldn’t bother showing her face at the countess’s crystal tea again, all the way to he ought to turn tail and leave London at once.
The High Tea was everywhere, and the invisible class who kept the lords and ladies dressed and fed were in no way immune to its pervasiveness—the gossip paper could readily be found in servant’s kitchens and on the bedside tables of the household staff in every home in London. Lillie was certainly no stranger to the salacious tales contained within, but the one place she had never counted on finding the tattler was in the private study of her taciturn employer, Lord Ellingboe, the Earl of Chwyllenghd.
She had been employed in the household for several years, replacing the former housekeeper after the stooped crone’s retirement, and never once had Lillie seen evidence of his Lordship being even minutely aware of what went on beyond his own front door. The earl was upright and above reproach, bestowed with a quiet dignity—one that was lent an air of rugged virility when coupled with his great size. She was confident that it was his immense bulk that forced him into her thoughts so often. It stood to reason, she rationalized, that an employer of such admirable stature should occupy more than just the rooms she dusted. Her musings turned to the earl often...but she couldn’t imagine him perusing the Ton’s gossip paper.
Yet there it was, sitting on the edge of his Lordship’s giant mahogany desk as if it had been casually discarded or perhaps meant to have been scooped up, taken with the rest of his papers for the day. The pages were folded back, affording her an easy view of the story he must have been reading, and if her closer vantage—all the better to dust the lamp, of course—allowed her to quickly read over the column, well, she’d never been one to overlook a chance of luck.
Discarded but not defeated! Ssssspectators of the Monsters Ball should keep their eyes peeled for a particular member of the peerage who’s not allowing his recent jilting to keep him in the dirt for long. Vixens and vipers are a volatile mix, but Victory with a capital V will belong to the lady who manages to slither to his side.
The following paragraph outlined whispers of some scandal faced by the unnamed lord, a dispute over land with his former wife, a humiliation in and of itself, she thought. Perhaps his Lordship was simply keeping up with his peerage from the comfort of his study. Or, Lillie mused as she continued her dusting, perhaps Lord Ellingboe was gauging the competition. The marriage market is fiercely competitive. That’s what the paper always says. And there are probably many younger men courting the same ladies.
Lord Ellingboe’s broad back and well-muscled physique might have been cheery thoughts that accompanied her in the bath, but the notion of his remarrying was less enjoyable to contemplate. She’d overheard the chatter between the earl’s daughter-in-law and one of her companions the afternoon his eldest son visited for the day. While his Lordship and his heir were ensconced in the study, the future countess had been asked by her friends if her father-in-law was planning on remarrying. The upcoming Monsters Ball had the nonhuman gentry buzzing. Evidently, the earl’s own family was not immune to the chatter.
“It doesn’t matter if he does,” the daughter-in-law had huffed. “Gannar is his heir, and there are two spares before any other children the earl might have with a new wife. Can’t imagine why he’d bother. Hardly seems a point.”
“Bah,” waved the cook when Lillie had recounted what she heard later that evening.
It was the custom for the staff to eat together, a small bit of camaraderie she appreciated greatly. It was hard to fathom that just above their heads, the formal dining room stretched, empty and unused. The earl was frequently away for the evening meal, making his rounds from duke to viscount, all around London during the social season. The upstairs dining room was long and drafty, papered in elegant damask in a deep shade of blue, and the turned legs with all their carvings were the bane of her weekly dusting. The downstairs dining room, by contrast, was just off the kitchen. Toasty warm and unadorned, the staff would sit around a large, round table and pass plates around, no servers to serve the servants.
“As if that chicken-necked little trollop knows anything ’bout anything,” the cook went on. “Why shouldn’t his Lordship remarry? He’s still young enough to enjoy a second round with a new missus.”
“More children would mean a governess,” the maid piped up. “I’ll bet that’s what she’s worried about, all the money going to raise a new family.”
“I don’t know about more children, but I’m sure he’d be pleased to drain his dragon every morning from the comfort of his own bed with a new wife,” Mr. Phip, the stableman, had put in, wiping his sop around the edge of his plate. “If he’s keeping a mistress, she’s doing a poor job with attendance.”
“He doesn’t have a mistress,” Lillie had gasped, scandalized by the thought as the cook hooted.
“Maybe not, but I’ll tell you true, he needs one. He might not need to tie that strap ’round his leg so tight if he did. Like a tourniquet when he goes riding, it is.”
“The earl would have need of a dressing ring with or without a mistress,” Gerrold had sniffed, and the cook had nearly choked on her laughter. “And I take a fair bit of offense to that, Phip. His Lordship dresses to the left every day, and I never overtie the stay.”
Lillie had kept her opinion to herself. It seemed she was the only member of their small household not eager to see the earl remarry, and she didn’t want to draw attention to her muddled thoughts and shameful fantasies. Their words had made her blush, and the heat had stayed with her when she retired to her own bed for the evening, thinking through their meaning and letting her all too vivid imagination paint the picture.
I’m sure he’d be pleased to drain his dragon every morning from the comfort of his own bed. She thought of the earl rising each morning, stretching beneath the brocade coverlet, ensconced in the shadows of his bed curtains. She could easily envision him there, considering she made that same bed each morning. His cock would be swollen and stiff, uncomfortably so, perhaps. Mr. Phip was probably right—Lord Ellingboe would likely be grateful to have a hand or mouth right there to help ease his tension and drain his dragon.
Lillie knew if she happened upon his Lordship in such a position, she would be all too willing to offer her assistance, for she knew the value of a good employer. The earl was stern but kind, and although she had never known the deceased countess, Lillie was sure she must have been just as good and kind, for the earl had loved her greatly. In the absence of a wife, she would be happy to offer her assistance, humble as it may be. In her experience, men that rose hard in the morning didn’t stay that way long. She would barely need to pause her chores to complete such an action—maybe a quick tug beneath the sheets, directing the flow of his emission into the mop bucket. It would probably take both hands just to hold him.
Or, perhaps, she might drop to her knees at the edge of the bed and allow his Lordship to simply roll until his cock was level with her mouth. She would suck him gladly, and he could rut against her lips as she straightened the bed skirt, wiping away any evidence that glistened from her mouth once he sagged beneath the sheets, continuing her work for the morning. Draining the earl’s dragon seemed a small hardship to her, and she would happily add the chore to her daily routine if it would keep him from seeking a new wife. It seemed to her an arrangement that would benefit all, no Monsters Ball necessary.
“I’m finished in the dining room, miss. I’ll be headed down to the laundry unless there’s anything you need me to—”
She jumped, startled from her recollections by the voice of the maid. “That’s fine, Niamh.” The maid was just outside the partially closed door, and was unable to see the way her cheeks flushed with fire. All the better. “You can go ahead and start the washing.” She waited until she heard the goblin’s quick steps down the hallway, the floorboards creaking in the expected places, and the sound of the stairwell door being pulled open, sighing when silence reigned once more. It wouldn’t do to act a moon-eyed cow in front of the rest of the staff, lest gossip of her ridiculous crush on Lord Ellingboe floated downstairs. Straightening up, Lillie turned her attention back to the desk.
The bright white edges of the High Tea seemed especially out of place amongst the earl’s dimly lit study. Every book was bound in dark leather of rich walnut and forest green, with an occasional volume of an oxblood so deep, it nearly appeared black against the shelf. The window sashes were wide but heavily curtained, and the narrow slant of sunshine they afforded seemed to make the room dimmer with shadows. The whole effect, coupled with the nonsensical maze of parchment and journals stacked atop his Lordship’s desk, gave the entire room an unwelcome air, not a place for the outside world to stop and tarry, making the frivolous inclusion of the gossip paper stand out even more.
The study itself matched its master perfectly. When she had first heard of the open position in the earl’s household, Lillie had availed herself of her profession’s own version of the High Tea—the whisper network of chambermaids and housekeepers and governesses and cooks, of butlers and footmen and stableboys. Each had a tale to tell about the Lords and Ladies they served, warning each other of those potential employers with wandering hands and thunderous anger or those who paid poorly. She’d been told before applying that the earl was sullen in his disposition, stern in his countenance, and possessed of a saturnine smile, a most sibilant indictment if there ever was one.
It hadn’t been enough to frighten her off the post, and she was glad of it each day. Lillie would never besmirch the character of her peers to imply that their observations were incorrect, for over the several years she’d been in the earl’s service, she’d come to learn the perceived truth of each accusation, even if she herself didn’t quite agree.
