Seduction

By Victoria Knightly

Long Livery Hall has been bought and rebuilt by Randolph Penrice, whose parents emigrated from Cornwall to California. Randolph made a fortune from the gold fields and has returned to England a very wealthy man. Now he wants to find a wife: a woman of noble birth who can bestow nobility upon his offspring. But 'Chuck' also believes in "trying before buying". Three women are keen to entice him into marriage by means of their bedtime skills, but which one will make a good mistress for the new Long Livery Hall?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: Jan 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781611604504

Book preview

Chapter 1

July 1863

Tilly Edwards arose from her bed early, as she did every morning. With daylight beginning to light up her small attic room, she put on her black uniform dress, her stockings and her shoes.

And nothing else.

Feeling chilly because of her lack of underwear, she made her way downstairs and set to work on her mistress’s full array of clothing for the day. She also filled the big scullery copper with water and lit the fire beneath it. When she was satisfied that the clothes were clean and properly ironed, she checked that the water was nicely hot. She then harangued two other maids into the chore of carrying it in buckets to fill her mistress’s bath tub upstairs. It wasn’t the usual day for a bath, but Tilly guessed it would be appreciated.

By the time the tub was finally filled, morning sunshine was streaming through the windows of Bastion Manor; the portent of a warm, bright day. Tilly was aware that it was going to be a difficult day for her mistress: Hannah Cholmondeley-Smythe. Hannah had admitted as much the previous evening before retiring to bed early. The late Lord Burraton’s will was to be read in the drawing room at ten o’clock sharp and Tilly wasn’t alone in expecting trouble to arise from it. Hannah Cholmondeley-Smythe was to be stripped of her inheritance. Knowing this, Tilly felt sorry for her. She also felt uncertain about her own future.

At eight o’clock sharp she went to Hannah’s bedroom and drew back the curtains. She opened the window to let in the scent of summer blooms drifting up from the flower gardens on a small breeze. Hannah was already awake, lying naked in her huge bed with an intense look upon her face, as if she was dreading what would happen later that morning. Set against the purple velvet of the bed hangings, her pale skin looked even paler this morning.

Good morning, my lady. It’s a lovely day outside. Tilly tried to sound positive as she unbuttoned her uniform dress and pulled it over her head. I’ve prepared a bath for us next door in your dressing room.

A bath? A small smile crept slowly across Hannah’s ashen face and spots of colour began to appear around the curves of her cheekbones. Oh, Tilly, that would be lovely. You’re so good to me; do you know that? Even on a day like today. She arose from the bed and stretched her arms.

In her nudity she looked strangely fragile and innocent, somewhat removed from the resilience she normally displayed when tackling her day-to-day problems. Her face was fine-boned and delicate, framed by striking red hair. She had a perfectly-shaped mouth and long lashes. And her wide, staring eyes gave her an appealing child-like image.

I’m sure you’ll cope well, my lady. Tilly stared at her mistress, saddened by what she would have to face later in the morning. She was a lady who deserved better than the life she endured here at Bastion Manor. For certain, she deserved better than the bitter blow that was soon to be made public.

Tilly could think of no one who’d treated her so well and loved her as much as Hannah. And that love had earned so much loyalty in return. Their mutual affection had been important because both of them had lost their mothers many years ago.

She hastily stripped off her stockings and shoes before leading Hannah into the adjacent dressing room where the bath tub was waiting. The water was hot and scented with attar of roses, just as Hannah liked it. On any other morning Tilly would have assisted her mistress with care and attention, but this particular morning she was determined to show as much additional warmth as she could muster.

You’re looking lovely as ever, my lady. She helped Hannah into the tub before stepping into the water behind her. It was a tight squeeze, but they were used to it and Tilly enjoyed the close contact with her mistress’s slender nude body. She ran a hand down Hannah’s long hair; admiring that remarkable red colour, interspersed with small hints of gold.

Tilly enjoyed moments like this because it enhanced the closeness between herself and her mistress. She sat down with her legs propped either side of Hannah, soaped a sponge and wiped it across her mistress’s back. After a while she dropped the sponge and started to massage the pale, soft skin with her bare hands.

Hannah purred like a cat with a bowl of cream and no one to share it.

Does that feel good, my lady? Tilly smiled, feeling a deep sensual tingle inside her vagina as she continued to rub her hands across Hannah’s back.

Very relaxing, Tilly.

I hoped it would help get you ready for the day ahead. She lathered up more soap and worked her way up from Hannah’s waist to her slender shoulders, giving them a gentle massage that caused Hannah to tilt her head and sigh contentedly.

I love it when you do that, Tilly. It’s so exciting. It gives me a lovely feeling between my legs.

It sends a nice feeling though my cunt as well, my lady.

"Your fanny, Tilly."

Yes, my lady. A nice feeling in my fanny. Tilly ran her palms down the middle of Hannah’s back before easing them smoothly around Hannah’s sides until she was massaging her mistress’s flat abdomen. With a little upward movement she was able to cup Hannah’s breasts in her palms; such firm breasts that the feeling in her vagina intensified.

Initially Hannah’s nipples felt soft against Tilly’s fingers, but they hardened as she rubbed her fingers around them. Moving her hands back down, she found Hannah’s wispy pubic bush. She had to press her chest tight against Hannah’s back to reach her fingers into her mistress’s vagina and find her clitoris. The tingling sensation now extended out from Tilly’s sex organs to her spine, running up and down as if static sparks were dancing all along her backbone.

That’s beautiful, Tilly. I love it when you do that.

Tilly smiled to herself. She enjoyed it also; almost as much as she enjoyed the feel of her secret lover’s solid penis right up inside her.

* * * *

Exactly on the stroke of ten o’clock, Lady Hannah Cholmondeley-Smythe entered Bastion Manor’s grand drawing room. After the pleasure of Tilly’s attention, she felt better prepared for the inevitable acrimony that would arise between her younger sister, Jezebel, and Frederick Wythenshawe, the family solicitor. Both had arrived minutes before her and the atmosphere inside the room was already tense. Hannah was certain it would get even more strained before too long.

Little had physically changed here in many years: the time-worn Tudor furniture sat in perfect harmony with the oak panelled walls. Valuable china figurines, brought back from a Grand Tour many years ago by one of Lord Burraton’s ancestors, sat neatly on top of the large marble fireplace. To the unpractised eye, everything was just as it had long been; neat and orderly. But, beneath the surface veneer, change was in the offing.

Radical change.

Frederick Wythenshawe began the meeting by announcing the basic premises of Lord Burraton’s will. His words were followed by a short silence. Hannah glanced around; mentally assessing the thoughts of the room’s two other occupants. She hadn’t been surprised by the news she was to be disinherited. She’d known about it since Wythenshawe had given her a private fore-warning. This morning’s announcement was no more than a formality for Hannah, but it was unexpected news to Jezebel.

Hannah allowed a few moments for Jezebel to digest the revelation before she coughed lightly to draw attention to herself. Despite this unfortunate news, I am glad to say that I can still bring myself to hold dear our mother’s memory. She was a kind lady and I remember her with deep affection and respect. She spoke carefully, determined that her sister should be clear on the matter.

She clenched her teeth as she waited for Jezebel’s response.

"Respect is something I reserve for those who merit it. A whore does not merit respect, even if she was married to my father. My father, Hannah, not yours!" Lady Jezebel Cholmondeley-Smythe was slow in reply, her venom building with each word.

That was typical of Jezebel, Hannah reflected, and entirely to be expected. Knowing she had the upper hand in self-control, Hannah avoided snapping back instantly. She was stung by her sister’s remark, despite her anticipation of Jezebel’s disdain, but she would not allow herself to over-react. A few moments passed before she announced calmly, Jezebel, my dear sister, the only thing you ever held with respect was found inside a man’s breeches.

"At least it was always a gentleman’s breeches," Jezebel sneered.

Really? Hannah lowered her voice. "I think a gentleman would have kept his breeches buttoned tight."

Jezebel opened her mouth wide, her perfect teeth bared like the fangs of a wild animal. Her face was creased with undisguised venom. How would you know what a gentleman would do, Hannah? You were sired by a common servant. That’s why Papa disinherited you.

That’s true, of course, Hannah said evenly. I was indeed sired by a man who loved our mother. What a pity you cannot say the same.

You bitch! Jezebel’s temper was almost out of control now. A telling quiver ran through the long black hair that was curled up into a tidy bun, reminiscent of the queen in her younger days. She turned to the solicitor and addressed him with an equally acid tongue. I suppose this means other people will now learn the sordid truth about our mother’s appalling indiscretion. Well, no one will now be in any doubt about who is the rightful heir to my father’s estate. I’m glad that Papa had the sense to put the matter to rights in his will. At least he understood the importance of noble birth.

Frederick Wythenshawe sat adjacent to a tall window that looked out over the manor’s parkland. Outside, bright sunshine lit up the Devon countryside, adding a deceptive air of peace to the wide view that stretched down into the River Tamar valley. In the distance a train steamed gracefully across the Royal Albert Bridge, puffing out smoke like small, ethereal clouds. Across the river, a blue sky silhouetted the Cornish moorland.

The solicitor nodded sagely. Yes, people will now know the truth, and it is inevitable that they will talk about it. That’s what seems so unfair for Lady Hannah. I tried to point it out to your father, but he refused to listen. He insisted that the facts must be incorporated into his will. His resentment of Lady Hannah never waned over the years, you know. Shaking his head sadly, he set down on the small table in front of him the last will and testament of Hubert Willoughby Cecil Cholmondeley-Smythe, the fifth Earl of Burraton.

Hannah cast another glance in his direction, wondering again at the strength of feelings which must have been flittering through his mind. She noted the darkness in his eyes as he leaned back in his seat and the lines that furrowed across his forehead when he drew a long breath. She felt sorry for him because an argument with Jezebel was a sure road to frustration and, on this particular matter, there was no hope of getting her to see reason.

Jezebel tossed back her head haughtily. "And Papa was quite right. His resentment was well justified. Why do you think he forbade our friends from referring to her as Lady Hannah? And that is a point you would do well to remember, Wythenshawe. She snapped her gaze round to Hannah. And you also! When are you going to stop your maid from referring to you as my lady? It has to end, Hannah!"

The Plymouth solicitor, who was rapidly approaching his fiftieth year, was no stranger to controversy and Hannah knew he wasn’t one to easily back down. She watched as he gritted his teeth.

Personally, I believe that family solidarity is more important than any accident of birth. Then he grunted and pulled at his collar while a small sweat broke out across his forehead. He brushed at his steel-grey hair, a small practised movement. Could you not show some moral support for Miss Hannah? Could you not offer to help her through the difficulties she will face when people question and discuss the circumstances of her disinheritance?

Nonsense. She’s old enough to stand up for herself. Jezebel suddenly rounded again on her older sister and scowled.

Hannah had seen that scowl so many times it no longer intimidated her as it once had. She comforted herself with the thought that when Jezebel smiled she was one of the most beautiful women on earth, but when she scowled she made the grim reaper look like a Christmas tree fairy. And Jezebel spent far more of her time scowling than smiling.

It’s right and proper that you will get nothing, Hannah. You’re nobody in this house. Always have been, always will be. Just look at you with your ridiculous red hair and those ugly freckles. You don’t even look like one of us. She licked her tongue along the front of her upper teeth, as if she was wiping away from her pearly incisors traces of her sister’s blood.

Hannah turned her head away, clenching her fists in an effort to remain calm. She knew she ought not to retaliate against Jezebel when her sister’s offensive behaviour reached a peak. She’d endured enough of it while their parents were alive. Maybe the death of the fifth earl of Burraton would finally release her from the purgatory that had been her life at Bastion Manor.

Did you hear what I said, Hannah? You’re nobody. The ancient walls echoed to Jezebel’s sharp tones.