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He eyed her speculatively, and she couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly think of him as cold, not when she burned in the heat of his gaze. “No regrets then?”
She straightened up. “I don’t think so. It’s hard to miss what you’ve never known, and I’m happy with my lot. I’m grateful to work in a household such as yours, my Lord. I would’ve liked to have a child, I think, but so it is the way it is. I wouldn’t want to raise a child alone, and I wouldn’t be able to do so and continue working. No regrets for either of us, then?”
“Hmm ... I regret not having a daughter, actually. I would’ve quite liked a little girl to spoil.”
At that, Lillie couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, his Lordship isn’t old enough for that to be out of the realm of possibility, is it? The girls were all a’twitter this morning, guest lists of the balls being published in the ‘Tea. Will his Lordship be attending the Monsters Ball?”
“I suppose I should give it some thought, shan’t I? And what of you, Miss Prichard? Certainly not old enough to be sweeping the steps at the Order of Solemnity with the other widows and spinsters. Have you given up on love?”
There was no way to stop the dull flush from moving up, over her nose and ears until she felt heat at the top of her head beneath her cap. She did want to fall in love. She wanted to spend her evenings curled by the fire with someone strong and steady, someone whose quiet actions spoke louder than his rarely uttered words, who would take care of her for a change. Someone who wouldn’t care that she wasn’t young and beautiful like the sparkling diamonds the High Tea wrote of, who wouldn’t mind that her plump figure was better suited to seeing out the cold highland winters like her forebears, rather than being boned into beaded silks and lace, and delicate corsetry. Someone a bit like the earl himself, actually—who made her feel dainty, instead of the clumsy lummox she was, who was stern and silent to outsiders, but whose eyes and saturnine smiles were as warm and comforting as an embrace on a cold night...Of course, she couldn’t tell the earl that.
“Who would take care of his Lordship if I left to go running after a fairy story like some young miss in her twentieth year?” She smiled, head bowed, not meeting his eye for the first time since he’d bade her to sit across from him. “‘Specially with Gerrold gone. We wouldn’t want you to waste away in your chambers, my Lord. I know my place, sir.”
He considered her thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth lifting in one of those barely-there smiles once more as she pushed out her chair as gracefully as she could manage.
“I’ll let you enjoy your peace and quiet, my Lord. I need to get back to work as it is. I-I’ll have a fresh handkerchief left on the desk of your study.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, she sucked in a lungful of air, filling her deprived lungs, hunching as if she’d been hit, arms around her middle. What on earth was that? How are you meant to stop daydreaming and fantasizing about him if he persists in engaging you in conversation as if you weren’t his employee?
Lillie pushed off the wall, putting distance between herself and the solarium with quick steps. Her insides felt gelatinous, as if she’d been set in one of Dorcas’s fancy aspics, trapped and wavering in her jelly prison, unable to put distance between the earl and her treacherous daydreams. Lord Ellingboe would be traveling with Gerrold that afternoon, and she wasn’t certain how long he would be in residence at his son’s house. That’s a good thing. A bit of distance is what you need. She repeated the wise words to herself several times as she made her way up the hallway, but that didn’t prevent a small shiver of arousal from whispering up her spine every time her thighs squeezed. A bit of distance, A bit of distance...
The instant the door closed behind her the following evening, Lillie slumped. It had been an exhausting day. Her dress smelt of smoke and charred bread, and she thought it was likely her hair did as well. Perhaps tomorrow, she considered resignedly, she’d slip out of the house in only her shift before anyone else had woken and douse herself in the courtyard at the well.
Sharing the head of household duties with Gerrold normally shielded her from afternoons like this, but today she’d been kept running, from carriage house to kitchen, her own duties neglected. The house was always quiet, and with so few staff members bustling about, it was actually possible to maintain a measure of privacy, unheard of in every other household she’d worked. His Lordship was brusque but kind, and not even taking into consideration the ribald nature of her recent dreams concerning Lord Ellingboe, she did not mind the extra work entrusted to her when they stayed in London.
Now though ... She allowed her head to thunk against the door as she sighed. All she wanted to do was scrub away the day’s grime as best she could at her washbasin, change into her softest night-rail, and slip into bed with her illicit reading material. Lillie started at the thought of the books. The commotion in the kitchen had eaten up a solid chunk of the afternoon, and she had been pulled from the earl’s study directly to the servant’s passage that led down the steps to the kitchen.
Dorcas and her assistant were going rounds arguing over the butcher block table as the oven continued to belch smoke, the charred remains of the forgotten bread sitting guiltily between them like a naughty child. She had been forced to raise her voice to bring order, and both women had stiffened to attention, mouths snapping shut like fish at the seldom-heard sound of her shout. From there, she had hustled out into the yard, flagging down Mr. Phip and instructing him to bring several pails of water just to be safe as they aired out the smoking oven. She realized she couldn’t actually remember coming back to her own quarters at any point that afternoon, but surely she must have because where else would she have left the books?
Lillie gasped.
She had pulled the books from the shelf that morning, covertly glancing over her shoulder to ensure that she was still alone in the room and that the door remained closed, flipping open the first leather-bound volume to ensure she had the right one. The illustration upon the page featured a woman with long, elf-like ears reclining on plump-looking pillows, her head tipped back, and an expression of utter bliss upon her face. Her breasts were heavy and her hips were wide, and Lillie appreciated just how alike she was to the woman in the drawing. Her book doppelgänger’s legs were spread wide, and in between her thick thighs was the mouth of her partner, the broad-backed orc. He was a dark, mossy green, much like Lord Ellingboe himself, his shoulders pushing her legs wide, and the tongue snaking from his mouth was painted a dark red as it licked the reclining woman’s cunt.
She had wondered, just as she had the first time the books had come to her notice, over their presence in his Lordship’s study, wondering if he even knew they were there. Her inappropriate fantasies notwithstanding, she imagined her solemn employer would be scandalized, horrified by their presence on his hallowed shelves. The only concern that gave her pause was the odd location. She was positive she had placed the books on a high shelf near the front left corner of the desk, but that morning she had found them on a low shelf behind the desk, practically concealed from view. Another flip of the pages had shown her several pages of text and another illustration, this one of the same woman sitting atop the orc in the drawing, her legs coming to rest on either side of his hips, impaled on the stiff rod of flesh rising from his groin.
She’d slapped the book shut with a blush. Surely she was doing him a favor by removing them, she’d told herself, setting them on the edge of his desk as she finished her dusting ... And then the kitchen girl had come running up the hallway, screeching about fire and smoke, and Lillie had followed her in haste, the books forgotten. They were still there, at the edge of his desk.
He’d only just returned that evening, surprising her in the yard. She'd not heard the carriage coming up the long drive, moving around the circle and coming to a halt before she had even dragged up the storage cellar staircase, where she’d been grumbling over Gerrold’s organizational system. She’d emerged from the dank, black doorway, grimacing at the feel of cobwebs in her hair, attempting to brush away any that clung to her when her head had raised, mouth dropping open to find the Earl standing there, not ten paces away.
Seeing him in the house each day was proper—he would be going to or coming from his study, looking smart and regal in a brocade waistcoat and fitted jacket, and she would be in her uniform, feather duster in hand, giving orders to the girls—upstairs and downstairs, firmly in their places. It didn't make sense that she should feel differently out-of-doors, but as she gazed up at him with bulging eyes, noting the way the corner of his mouth twitched around his thick tusk as if it were considering curving into a smile and thinking better of it at the last moment, she felt the purple rush of humiliation roll up her back. She was disheveled. Her face was likely chapped from the wind that gusted through the courtyard, her hair was a disarray from the cellar, and the lilac-colored pelisse she had loved so much when she purchased it several winters earlier had grown a bit shabby looking in recent months. Mortification tightened her throat at him seeing her in such a state, looking like the shabby gray mouse that she was—wide of hip and thick through her thighs, an inelegant snarl of hair and reddened cheeks, and a coat that looked more a dingy grey than it did the original lilac, her favorite flowers.
“My Lord!” she’d gasped in shock, wondering why it was that he’d left his son’s home so quickly, panicking that there was no supper prepared for him, and there had been no time for her own embarrassment, no spare moment to examine why it even mattered. Mr. Phip had stood there like he’d only just wandered up out of the sewer for the very first time, jumping to action when she hissed at him to bring the earl’s things into the house. He’d waved off the offer of dinner until he’d finally relented under her panicked entreaties, worried she was already mucking up the job on her first day.
He would find the books, would wonder where they had come from, why his housekeeper was leaving such lewd filth in his study, and she would be sacked. Lillie didn’t hesitate before throwing open the door and sprinting up the dark hallway, pausing a mere heartbeat at the bottom of the steps. Downstairs where she belonged. It didn’t matter if she was the only one he ever graced with that smile, that with her he was neither sullen nor saturnine, and never once had she seen him actually snarl ... none of that mattered, for at this late hour, she had no place upstairs.
Still, he might have retired early. After all, Gerrold wasn’t there to draw his bath or fetch a nightcap. Perhaps he was already abed, and this would be her only opportunity to rectify this morning’s folly and save face. She could retrieve the books, and he would never be the wiser.
The corridor where the study was located was dark when she tiptoed around the corner, only slightly out of breath from running up the stairs. Dark and empty, and she didn’t hear voices, didn’t hear feet up on the floor, or the clinking of cutlery on fine china. This was her opportunity to set things to rights. Just go quietly like a mouse, in and out and back downstairs where you belong, and no one will be the wiser.
She had tread down that hallway more times than she could ever hope to be able to count. She knew precisely which spots in the floor to avoid, having memorized the patterns in the richly embroidered rug that would creak beneath her weight, and knew exactly which fabric flowers and fleur-de-lis’ she would need to avoid. She was able to move up the corridor stealthily, holding her breath and hoping against hope that his Lordship had already retired to his chambers. Perhaps tomorrow, you might be called on to draw his bath in Gerrold’s place.
The thought of the earl in his bathtub made her bite her lip—the brass tab was oversized, specially made for someone with the great height and bulk of an orc, but even still, she had a hard time imagining that he would ever be able to fill it with enough water to conceal his nakedness as he reclined against the curved back. He was hale and strong despite his age, filling out his brocade waistcoats and Weston coats with a mountainous solidity. She was able to close her eyes and easily imagine the tops of his tree trunk-like legs unconcealed by the water, his broad chest and barrel-like torso, the meaty appendage between his thighs equally thick and strong, rising up out of the water like the rock of Gibraltar.
She considered, now that thoughts of his endless expanse of his green skin stretched out in her mind, that she might well eventually be called on to attend him in his bath in Gerrold’s absence. She tried to imagine what would happen if she were called upon while the earl reclined in his bathwater, steam curling from the glasslike surface, making wisps of her hair curl around her full cheeks. He might ask for her assistance washing his back, might ask her to add fragrant oil to the water, might take her hand and lead it to the fat staff of his cock, flush to his belly.
She would stroke him without hesitation; she knew without question. She enjoyed her work too much. Taking care of the earl in the absence of his late wife was a point of pride for the entire staff, and Lillie was no exception. If he required her assistance in reaching his pleasure, she would be glad to offer it, considering how many times he’d assisted her in her dreams, especially as of late. Glad to offer it and more, for it wasn’t as if his Lordship wasn’t a ridiculously handsome orc. She would kneel beside the giant tub and stretch her fingers around the thick club of flesh rising from the water, pulling upward until she felt the flare of his cockhead concealed in its sheath, twisting her hand over his tip. He would groan as she drew his foreskin back, stroking down his shaft until her hands disappeared beneath the water to press into his root and fondle his bollocks—
A deep groan rent the silence of the dark hallway, and she nearly fell over. All at once, Lillie realized the sound had come from the earl’s study, the very place to which she was meant to be creeping. And here you are wasting time, you silly cow! Daydreaming about him in his bathwater instead of moving those blasted books! She pinched herself in annoyance. It didn’t make a difference. If the earl was in his study, it wasn’t as if she could bloody well waltz in and snatch the books from the desk. Her whole ridiculous plot had been for naught.
