Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“What do you think?” Deborah asked.
She stepped out from behind her dressing partition, her hands splayed out by her sides.
Cedric looked up from where he sat hunched over on the edge of her bed and groaned before he plopped his head back into his hands.
“That this is a terrible, terrible idea,” he croaked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Deborah frowned and walked to her full-length mirror.
Cedric’s suits had been far too big on her, so they’d had to have one made for her.
The tailor had nearly gone into a fit of apoplexy when they revealed the suit was to be made from her measurements, but Cedric had quickly lied, stating that the suit was a surprise for his nephew, who was much shorter and lither, much like Deborah.
The story seemed to put the tailor at ease, if only a little, and he had put the suit together as Cedric requested.
Black, expensive material made up the trousers, cravat, and jacket, and white silk was used for the collared, long-sleeve shirt. Shoes were acquired in her size from the cordwainer, and a black top hat not only completed the ensemble but hid the bun Deborah had fastened her long locks into.
“I think it will do,” Deborah murmured, tugging the jacket down in an attempt to hide the curve of her breasts.
Behind her, she heard Cedric tsk his tongue, and in the next second, he appeared behind her in her reflection.
“The suit is not the problem,” he said testily, reaching around her to unbutton the jacket, “It is your body. Even in these clothes, you still look too feminine.”
He pulled back the jacket, and Deborah immediately saw his point.
While the bulk of the jacket hid the size of her breasts a little, the shirt clearly revealed the swell of her chest. In fact, the way it was tailored had her breasts straining against the fabric and had even accentuated her small waist.
“It seemed the tailor did a little too well,” Deborah said in way of agreement.
“Indeed,” Cedric murmured, pulling the jacket down her arms. “Take off the shirt.”
She turned to him with an arched brow as he laid the jacket carefully over the back of her vanity chair.
“What for?” She asked, “We must go!”
“This will not take long,” he assured her as he walked back to her bed. She watched him curiously as he pulled back the pretty duvet and grabbed the white sheet underneath. Her jaw dropped as she watched him rip a long piece off with great ease.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Shirt. Off,” Cedric demanded, gathering up the long strip of fabric.
Annoyed but intrigued at what he was up to, Deborah removed her hat and then pulled the collared shirt up over her head, tossing it atop her jacket.
Cedric sighed heavily as his gaze fell to her bare breasts, and he shook his head with a saddened expression.
“What I am about to do is an affront to God’s creation,” he sighed woefully as he approached with the strip of cloth, “When this is over, your breasts and I are going to have a private conversation, and there is not a thing you can do to stop it. Now lift your arms.”
Deborah chortled. Her face shifted into a look of amused curiosity, but she obeyed, lifting her arms above her head.
“I am so sorry, my pretty darlings,” Cedric sighed as he began winding the strip of cloth tightly around her breasts and ribcage, “I promise I will make it up to you later.”
Deborah lifted a brow as she took in Cedric’s face and saw that he genuinely appeared remorseful.
“Are you apologizing…to my breasts?” She asked as he wound the fabric tighter and flattened her breasts to her body. Even as she asked, heat pooled into her lower belly as he stared adoringly at her chest for another moment, then frowned as if he was watching someone destroy a masterpiece.
Deborah’s cheeks flushed as she remembered how he had worshipped her breasts that first day in the parlor. How his tongue, normally so sharp and witty, had become soft and warm and teasing as he drew her nipples into his mouth one at a time until she was breathless and fully of need.
“Well, someone certainly needs to,” Cedric grumbled, continuing the binding until the sheet came to an end and pulled her from the memory.
Deborah willed herself to focus on their plan as Cedric pinned the fabric carefully so it would not unravel, then grabbed her shirt. He lowered it over her head and arms, then carefully tucked it back into the waistband of her trousers.
“There,” he sighed, pointing to her reflection in the mirror, still looking quite saddened by her changed figure.
It was indeed changed, for instead of the curves that had once fit into the shirt, there was now nothing but the smallest swell of a chest that dropped into a narrow waist, very much like a man’s torso would.
“Now the jacket,” Cedric said, grabbing it for her.
She held out her arms again as he also put that back on her, and then retrieved the black cravat and top hat.
“Your mask will hide the feminine features of your face,” Cedric muttered, reaching up to almost lovingly caress her cheek. “Thank heavens for that, for there are no cosmetics that could hide such beauty.”
Deborah’s heart thudded in double time at his compliment, and she lowered her hat to hide the blush blooming in her cheeks.
“Do you have my mask?” She asked.
“I do,” Cedric agreed, draping a cloak around her shoulders, “But you will wait until we are in the carriage to put it on. “The last thing we need to do is risk one of our neighbors seeing us in them.”
Deborah only nodded in agreement and followed him out to the carriage.
The long ride to the auction was tense and silent.
Instead of trying to fill the space with conversation, Deborah chose to turn her focus on the night’s goal: to try to goad other men into speaking about other auctions- specifically the ones Sylvester hosted.
When Cedric had shared the knowledge he’d discovered that Sylvester held his own knowledge, Deborah had nearly gotten sick with disgust. However, once she was through her bout of fury, she realized that those auctions were the perfect way to expose Sylvester as the horrible person he was.
They just needed proof to release to the papers, and her vengeance would finally be paid.
She could finally look for Hester and bring her home.
“We are here,” Cedric announced, his tone holding an edge.
Deborah looked up at him then, and nearly gasped. He had his mask on already, and it brought back the memories of the night she had thought she had failed her sister for good.
“Remember,” Cedric said, his tone a little softer as he pulled off her hat and began putting her matching mask on her face, “You know who is under this mask now. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Cedric’s words helped soothe the anxiety and distrust she felt from that night, and she bowed her head so he could finish tying the mask to her face.
She wanted to believe that he was right.
A large part of her already did. Still, like Ellen had said, it was difficult to trust safety and happiness after something awful had happened.
“You can lift your head up now,” Cedric told her, and as she did, he put her top hat back on her head, taking care to make sure it disguised her hair completely.
“Remember my rule?” He asked, his hands soothing down the lapels of her jacket and adjusting her cravat.
“I do not leave your side,” she said softly.
Cedric’s hand was quick as it moved from her cravat to grip her masked chin and force her eyes to his.
“You. Do. Not. Leave my side,” he repeated in a commanding tone as his dark eyes bored intensely into hers. “And you do not speak to anyone. Your voice will give you away, and I assure you neither of us will enjoy the consequences of being caught.”
A shiver passed through Deborah’s body; feeling the gravity of the situation she was putting them both in, but she nodded silently.
Cedric continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes for another long moment, and for a second, she feared he was going to change his mind. Then he let out an animalistic snarl as he let go of her chin and shoved the carriage door open.
“Come,” he commanded, “Let us get this over with.”
Sweat trickled down Deborah’s neck as she and Cedric made their way through the thick throng of masked men.
The air in the auction house was thick, hot, and tinged with scents of sweat, alcohol, and musk.
Her chest ached, begging to take a full breath of fresh, cool air.
She had thought that corsets had felt binding; that the wrap around her breasts would be no different.
She had been wrong. Very wrong, and now her back and breasts were starting to ache from how confining the wrap was.
Trying to ease it, she drew in a shallow breath and was only assaulted by the scent of desperation.
The scent of aroused men was something Deborah had thought she’d grown accustomed to while working in disguise at the auction, but now she felt as if she could barely breathe in her mask.
She’d become spoiled by the distance her marriage to Cedric had allowed her.
Not only that, but spoiled by the heady, delicious scent he and he alone gave off.
“Watch yourself!” A man scolded as Deborah brushed against something with her shoulder.
She froze at once as he caught her by the assaulting shoulder and whirled her around, forcing Cedric’s grip away from her wrist. Pressing her lips tightly together so she would not speak, she looked up at the man who had hold of her.
His white mask hid his features, but she did not need to see them to know that he was both inebriated and angry.
“Well?” The man snarled, giving her a rough shake, “Are you going to be a man and apologize for spilling my drink? Buy me another?”
Panic gathered in Deborah’s chest as the man glared down at her. She could not speak; it was too dangerous, and she could not move to find Cedric because of the man’s tight grip on her arm.