Chapter Fifteen
“Where are we going?” Kitty asked as Cordon pulled her along the lawn toward the line of waiting carriages.
One moment, he’d been thrusting an ivory phallus inside her; the next, he’d been frantically throwing on his masquerade costume.
She had followed suit until she’d reached the point where she’d needed help.
Then Cordon had helped, although he’d tugged the strings on the back of her bodice much harder than she would have expected.
Finally, when they were sitting across from each other in the carriage, she crossed her arms and frowned. “Care to explain what happened?”
His lips thinned. “No.”
When he offered no other explanation, she slumped into the plush seat. He was a strange man, flighty and excitable one minute and stubbornly silent the next.
“Well, how many items did we complete?” she asked.
She hoped it was at least five in the bedroom alone, because she dearly needed the money.
If tonight had taught her anything, it was that she was not meant for a life of service.
Removing Cordon’s clothes was one thing, especially when they were lost in pleasure.
But putting their clothes back on had been nowhere near as enjoyable.
If her business failed, she might still find work as a governess or a companion, but she doubted she would enjoy either of those professions any more than a lady’s maid.
No, what she truly wanted was to attract the attention of more customers like Cordon, who could provide her with income for years to come.
He remained silent, so she began ticking off what they’d done on her fingers.
“There was the masquerade. Two in the hedge maze. Stealing a lady’s undergarments.” She frowned. “The mirror?”
He stiffened. “That was not on the list. I wished only to bring you pleasure.”
What a strange reaction. Had he thought that she would be upset that he had engaged her in an activity for which she would not be paid?
She winced. That phrasing made their relationship feel so transactional. Although, she supposed it was transactional. She never would have come with him if it weren’t for the incentive of payment.
“If it is the money that concerns you,” Cordon said, “there is one more item we might complete tonight. To make you come apart the way I did in the maze, but within a conveyance.”
She straightened. “Here?”
The carriage hardly seemed large enough for such activity, and it wasn’t nearly as private as a room with a locked door.
He leaned forward, touching her chin with his fingers. “Here.”
Then he pressed her lips to hers, and it turned out that gentle rocking encouraged many positions that she hadn’t even thought possible.
She attempted to stifle her moans, but when they finally arrived back at her shop, her ears burned when the footman let them out.
She didn’t look at his face, for fear he’d heard what they’d done and might look at her slyly or with disgust.
Cordon snickered, then giggled, then burst into laughter. He put one hand against the wall and the other on his stomach, shaking with mirth.
“The way you avoided looking at my driver…” He wiped his tears away with a handkerchief he’d removed from his sleeve.
“He might have heard us,” she said while carefully maneuvering through her shop, navigating by the faint light and the crunch of different materials beneath her slippers.
The softness of the carpet in front of her counter, then the smooth wood of the floor, slightly slippery from fabric shavings she’d forgotten to clean. She was getting close.
“My driver is quite old, Kitty. I must shout to have him hear me from an arm’s length away.”
“You could’ve told me.”
He scoffed. “And stop you from biting your cheek every time you moaned to suppress the sound?”
“Blackguard,” she said in a teasing tone.
The whole situation was beyond ridiculous.
She, a mere dressmaker, had accompanied a lord to what had to be one of the most scandalous events of the social season.
As anxious as she’d been to attend the masquerade, nothing had gone wrong.
She hadn’t been recognized. Her worries had been for naught.
He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Shall we go again?”
His confidence was as admirable as it was infuriating. As a lord, he would naturally be accustomed to everyone lower than him in status agreeing to his demands. No wonder her parents were so determined to join his set.
With that realization came a sense of pique and a desire to punish him, if only in a small way.
So instead of melting into his embrace, she tickled his sides.
He yelped and jerked away, but she remained close behind as he darted around the shop, laughing all the while.
When she finally caught him, he lifted her onto her worktable, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
It was nice not thinking about the future. Nice having someone with whom to enjoy herself. Was this how her parents felt when they spent money? If so, she could understand why they had such difficulty stopping. The heady draft of privilege was addictive.
Maybe focusing on herself wasn’t so bad. Only in tiny doses, of course, but if this was what could be achieved by indulging, then she had been missing out.
Things were going so well that when he kissed her, she met him with equal enthusiasm, even though there were dresses draped over the bolts in the corner of the room she had yet to put away and fabric scraps to sweep.
It was one night.
She could return to her responsibilities tomorrow.