Mastering Lady Lucinda Part 5

"He might," Polly said, "but I don't think he'll betray The Master, m'lady. Why is it so important to you? Certainly you won't ever want to meet this gentleman after we have left here. You may not wed the duke, the marquess, or his lords.h.i.+p, but one day you will certainly marry again. What if your husband knows this man? Or you meet him at a ball, or a rout? Tis better you don't know, m'lady."

"The Master," Lucinda told her surprised servant, "is the only man I will marry, Polly. He has promised to come to the Countess of Whitley's ball where my brother must announce my betrothal. If I don't know who The Master is, how can George announce my engagement?"

Polly's eyes were big with her astonishment. Finally she regained her voice, and said, "But what if The Master ain't a gentleman, m'lady?"

"I know this house is his. His ancestors hang in the portrait gallery, Polly. He is a gentleman. One, I realize, of small means, but a gentleman nonetheless. There has to be a way of learning his true name and rank. There has to be!"

Polly shook her head. "I'll tell John what you've told me, m'lady. He'd like to see The Master happy as we're happy, I know, and he'll keep yer secret if I asks him to keep it."

To Lucinda's surprise it was the footman who approached her several days later. "If your ladys.h.i.+p were to go into the library some day," he said quietly, "she would find a large volume upon an oak stand, where the answers she seeks are to be found."

"When?" Lucinda asked softly.

"He has to be away all day tomorrow negotiating with a prince who wishes to purchase one of Rhamses's ungelded male offspring for his own stud in Turkey. The prince is staying nearby at Lord Bowen's home. d.i.c.k and Martin like to sneak into the village when The Master's away. The barmaids at The Frog and Swan are most accommodating, and as The Master ain't let them at you, m'lady, they're right randy. I've had some time of it keeping our Polly safe from them two, I can tell you. When they've gone off tomorrow, I'll send Polly to fetch you. Then it's up to you to find the information you need."

"Can you tell me nothing of him?" Lucinda queried the footman.

John shook his head. "We actually know little more than you do, m'lady We was told when we arrived that we was to call him The Master. We was all in service at Lord Bowen's. d.i.c.k and Martin will go back, I'm certain, when this is finished. Lord Bowen only told us that The Master was a t.i.tled gentleman, and because of what he would do for the Devil's Disciples, he wished to remain anonymous. We've seen his face, of course, but we had never seen him before we came here. Lord Bowen, you understand, spends most of his time in London. Besides, none of us can read, so it wouldn't do us no good to look in that big book."

Lucinda nodded. "I understand, John, and I thank you for your help in the matter. I shall see you and Polly have a fine gift on the occasion of your wedding."

"I must go over to a friend's this morning," The Master told Lucinda the next day. "I fear I shall be gone for several hours. Do you mind being alone?"

"I should welcome it," Lucinda said. "I know the hardest of my lessons are to come very soon, my darling Robbie. It is already September first, and the full moon will be upon us shortly."

He kissed her tenderly. "If there were another way," he said.

"I know," she told him, and indeed she did. If The Master allowed Lucinda to escape, her suitors would take their revenge on him. Then they would hunt their prey down, and one of them would force her to the altar. No. If she was to have her revenge, she would have to pretend to be mastered and yield herself to the hateful trio.

He left her, and shortly afterward Lucinda, gazing out her bedchamber window, saw d.i.c.k and Martin hurrying off down the lane in brown homespun breeches and linen s.h.i.+rts, their livery left behind. She waited patiently until Polly came to say it was safe for her mistress to go downstairs into the library. Lucinda hurried down the stairs. How quiet the lovely old house was this morning. Curious, she wandered about for a moment, opening doors. There was a beautiful little Great Hall with a single enormous fireplace. The tapestries on the wall were dusty, but well woven. It was obvious that the house had never been modernized since it had been built in fifteen hundred and one, for that was the date etched into the fireplace wall. Sunlight filtered through the dirty high windows. The furniture was good country oak. Cleaning, polis.h.i.+ng, and some accessories would do wonders, she thought. Then she smiled to herself and went to the library, opening the door cautiously as if she expected to find someone there, but the paneled room was quite empty.

There! There by one of the cas.e.m.e.nt windows was the book stand, and upon it the volume John had spoken of to Polly. There was a simple crest upon it. A crescent moon d'or surrounded by five-pointed gold stars upon an azure field. It was artless, but unique, Lucinda thought. Slowly she opened the book. A History of the Earls of Stanton, the t.i.tle page said. Lucinda wasted no time in turning to the back of the book, and it was there she found it. Lucian Robert Charles Phillips, born August nineteenth, seventeen twenty. And after that there were no further entries. His mother's and his father's births, marriage and deaths were registered as was his paternal grandmother's.

It was all she really needed to know, but her curiosity not completely satisfied, Lucinda returned to the front of the book to discover that the Phillipses were a very ancient and honorable n.o.ble family. Family deaths matched all major battles fought in the king's name. There were at least two Earls of Stanton who had gone on crusade. Before Lucinda knew it the morning had gone, and the afternoon was upon her. Polly came to seek her out.

"Have you found out what you need to know, m'lady?"

"I have," Lucinda replied.

"Then come and have something to eat," the servant said.

Lucinda followed Polly into the garden where a table had been set up with her luncheon. John was waiting to serve her. He held the chair for Lucinda as she sat down. "I know what I need to know now," she began. "I prefer to keep my knowledge to myself for the interim. When we have returned to London, Polly, I shall tell you both. John, I want you to come with us until after the Countess of Whitley's ball is over. Then I will see you and Polly are transported safely to your father's home in Hereford. I think you should be married as soon as we get to London, however."

Polly was disappointed, but John said, "I understand perfectly, my lady. A London wedding would be most suitable. Your kindness toward us is appreciated, especially considering how we began," he finished with a deep blush.

Lucinda's vivid blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "I believe the less said about that small moment in time, the better off we all are, John. You may serve me now."

"Yes, m'lady," the footman said, all business again.

Afterward when she and Polly were alone, sunning themselves on the camomile lawn, the maidservant said, "You'll tell me now that my John's gone, won't you, m'lady?"

Lucinda shook her head. "No, Polly, I meant what I said. The Master's true ident.i.ty will remain a secret until we are back in London, but rest a.s.sured he is a t.i.tled gentleman. But even if he weren't, I should be content."

"Is his name really Robert?" Polly asked.

"It is one of his Christian names," Lucinda replied, with a smile. "He has two others as well."

"He is a real gentleman," Polly said, sounding impressed.

Everyone knew that only real gentlemen had several Christian names.

The Master returned from a successful day in an excellent mood. He and Lucinda sat that evening dining at opposite ends of the highboard in the Great Hall. It was the first time she had been invited into the hall.

"As I rode back from Lord Bowen's today," he began, "I had an inspiration, my pet. I believe I can save you from being publicly ravished by those three villains who seek to marry you. I cannot, however, be certain it will work, but I believe, knowing the personalities involved, that I can tweak their pride so that they will not embarra.s.s you."

"How?" she demanded of him.

"I do not want to tell you," he said. "Better it not appear as if you and I are in collusion, Lucinda."

"As much as I should like to avoid having any of the trio use my body, if I do not allow it, how can I have my revenge upon them? I want them always to remember I was the best, and the most memorable, f.u.c.k any of them ever had. Each time they couple with a woman after, I want them to remember me and ache with my loss. If you save me from them, then how can I accomplish what I have set out to do?"

"I may not be able to save you," he reiterated. "Their l.u.s.t for you may overcome their vanity and their hauteur. You may well have to yield to them, but if I can rescue you from such a fate, you can still accomplish your purpose. I shall tell the a.s.sembled that night that your brother will announce your betrothal the night of Whitley's ball. That ball celebrates the end of the fall hunting season and the return to London of society's most important denizens. Everyone who is anyone will be there, my pet. What a coup for the winner of your fair hand to have your betrothal announced that night. And you may keep your swains eager before that evening. Privately, of course, but if I can keep you from public humiliation, Lucinda, I should like to do it," The Master told her. "And then when no an-nouncement is forthcoming, what delicious public humiliation for the trio, for you may be absolutely certain each will have bragged to his friends that it is he you will choose. Then when they come to you outraged afterward, you can threaten to expose the Devil's Disciples and their wicked ways."

She was touched by his concern. Perhaps she could accomplish her purpose without whoring before an audience. Someday she would have children. Those offspring must eventually be matched with their own peers. If the gentlemen of the Devil's Disciples remembered her most vulgar performances, who would her own children wed one day? "See if you can save me," she said to him quietly.

He nodded, and then said, "But in the event I cannot, Lucinda, there is one more performance you must be taught. We will begin in the morning. In preparation I shall leave you to sleep tonight."

The following day she was led early, and without her breakfast, back into the hall, clothed only in her night garment and house slippers. A device had been placed in the center of the room, the likes of which she had never before seen. It was his own design, he told her, and he called it the Maiden Tamer.

A st.u.r.dy pole, adjustable he explained, was set in a heavy marble rectangle of a base. Attached to the pole was a wide rounded bar forming a T shape The bar was well wrapped and padded with lamb's wool covered in black velvet. Lucinda saw the manacles at either end, also adjustable, he said. In the base were foot clamps into which she was to place her feet. It was a rather frightening contraption. Brave as she was, even Lucinda was a bit taken aback by The Master's Maiden Tamer.

"Come, my pet, and get up," he said, taking her hand, and helping her onto the base. "Now, remove your garment so we may make the necessary adjustments." She complied as he lowered the crosspiece just slightly and carefully bent her over it, then raised her up again and lowered the bar a bit more. "Now, try bending over it again," he told her, and when she had done so, he nodded, satisfied. "Stretch your arms out, Lucinda, and let us see where the manacles are to go." She obeyed, and in short order found herself neatly constrained. The manacles, however, were lined in thick, soft lamb's wool, and therefore did not chafe her. "Lastly," he said, his hand smoothing over her bare bottom, "we must affix your feet into the foot clamps. Spread your legs, Lucinda, wider, wider, ah, that is perfect!"

She felt her legs restrained, but as she was wearing her slippers, and the foot clamps, like the manacles, were lined, there was no pain. The position she had now attained was one of perfect submission to The Master. "Dare I ask what you mean to do now?" she laughed nervously.

"Ah, you are concerned," he said. "This is why I decided we must practice on the chance I cannot save you. You don't have to be afraid, Lucinda. It is just a rather colorful means by which you are prepared to be f.u.c.ked. First, of course, you will be strapped with a good Scottish tawse. Spanking doesn't do for a lady so restrained. Let me show you the leather." He moved over to a chair and lifted what appeared to be a belt from it, but upon closer examination she could see it was much broader. "It is six inches wide," he said. "It has been split four inches up into half-inch thongs that have been tied with small knots. It will not break your skin, but it will, used properly, heat the bottom nicely, and prepare you to be f.u.c.ked. Indeed, if you respond as I believe you will, you will be most eager. Shall we begin, my pet?"

"Wait!" she cried. "If I must submit to this before the Devil's Disciples, who will wield the tawse?"

"I will," he a.s.sured her. "I should not allow any of them to do so. Men not used to such devices have a tendency to become over enthusiastic in the application of punishment and harm their victims. That is not the purpose of it. The function of the tawse is to arouse, with the intention of making the recipient excited and ready to accept a good st.u.r.dy c.o.c.k up her c.u.n.t."

"I see," Lucinda replied, but she thought it really quite un-necessary, and said so to him. "After all, if a woman loves a man, she is eager to make love with him. She needs no stimulus other than her pa.s.sions."

"I agree," he said. "Out there are those men who don't, either because they need to see a woman humbled by such punishment, or the woman herself is cold, without desire, and needs such harsh excitement to be aroused. The gentlemen of the Devil's Disciples are jaded in their tastes. This sort of drama pleases and excites them. In the event I cannot prevent your ravishment before them, you must be prepared for what I will have to do. Are you ready now, Lucinda?"

She swallowed nervously, and said in a small voice, "Yes." She heard the sound of the leather as it swung through the air to make firm contact with her bottom. It stung her, and she squealed. A second, and a third blow made contact. She felt her flesh beginning to grow warm. The narrow, knotted thongs peppered her hapless flesh, causing it to feel as if it were afire. Lucinda bit her lip to prevent crying out.

"Don't try to be brave," he advised her. "They will like it if after a few smacks you begin to howl a bit." He laid the leather across her bottom again.

"Ohhhh!" Lucinda cried out, half in jest, half in hurt.

"Excellent, my pet," he approved, and gave her two more hard spanks with the tawse. Then he reached beneath her furry quim, pus.h.i.+ng a finger between her nether lips. She was already moist, but not yet wet enough. He caressed her b.u.t.tocks four more times with the tawse while Lucinda sobbed most convincingly. A brief second inspection of her privates now told him she was very ready to be mounted. Tossing the tawse aside, he loosed his male member, grasped her hips, and slid his love lance into her juicy c.u.n.t. Her bottom pressing into him was hot, the skin a deep pink. "Ahhh, that is good, my pet," he groaned as he sank into her.

"Ohhh, yes!" Lucinda agreed. "It is delicious, Master!"

"Do you want to be f.u.c.ked?" he whispered wickedly in her ear. Then his tongue tickled it, and his breath came hotly.

"Ohhh, yes!" she replied. "I want to be f.u.c.ked, Master!"

"And so you shall, my pet," he told her. Then he began to piston her slowly, his big c.o.c.k pus.h.i.+ng deep, withdrawing, then pus.h.i.+ng into her once again.

"Faster, you devil!" she cried. "Faster!" She could feel the long, hard love lance delving within her love pa.s.sage. Instinctively she arched her back slightly, the muscles within her hot pathway tightening about his thick c.o.c.k, holding it prisoner a moment, then releasing him.

"Ahhhh, Lucinda!" he cried out. "You are killing me with your magnificent sweetness." He relinquished his hold upon her hips as he lay over her and reaching down grasped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands, fondling them most desperately.

It was all too much for Lucinda. The tawsing had brought her to a level of excitement she had never before attained. His hands on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s only increased the thrill. The relentless pumping of his wonderful c.o.c.k set her to moaning. She soared with the most absolute, and perfect pleasure she had ever known. Her body shuddered violently, and she came, her juices seemingly endless in her delight. One conscious thought remained. He had to save her!

The Master felt her crowning the head of his hungry c.o.c.k with her juices. With a cry he released his own, his hands squeezing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hard before moving back to grasp her hips, to piston her a final few times before he lost himself in her incredible sweetness. He had to save her!

He lay bent over her, panting for a short time before he slowly raised himself up. Lucinda was half-conscious, hung over the Maiden Tamer, in a posture of complete submission. Only her breathing indicated to him that he hadn't killed her. He began to undo her bonds immediately.

"Are you all right?" he asked her anxiously, and pulling her free he picked her up, carrying her across the Great Hall.

Seating himself in a chair, he cradled the semiconscious woman. "Lucinda! Speak to me, my pet! Are you all right?"

She sighed a deep sigh of utter contentment and slowly opened her deep blue eyes. "Of course I am all right, Robert," she told him calmly. "Why would I not be? Ohh, my darling, that was the most marvelous f.u.c.k I have ever had! The bar is a bit uncomfortable on the middle, but it was all worth it. You do not, however, have to spank me to arouse me, although I will admit to you that the novelty of it was most stimulating." She reached up and stroked his cheek, her fingers toying mischievously with his mask. "You are a wonderful lover, Robert. Why do you allow the fact you have small funds to keep you from marrying? This estate is a wonderful place. I could live here the rest of my life, never again see London and be happy. Certainly there is some girl you might love who would do the same for you alone."

His heart almost broke. She could be happy here. She was happy here. He loved her, but he could not for honor's sake admit to it. "There is no one," he said stonily, and then he tipped her from his lap almost impatiently. "Put your gown back on, Lucinda. There is nothing more I can teach you. Go, and get dressed, and we will ride."

"When is the full moon?" she queried as she slid the night garment back over her naked body. It had to be near, she knew, for she had been watching the waxing of the moon each night from her window "In three days' time, my pet," he told her.

Three days. She had three days left with him. Three days of this most glorious summer before she must partic.i.p.ate in a ridiculous episode that she was actually dreading. She wasn't fearful of being made love to, but what her three suitors wanted of her wasn't love. It was revenge for making them the laughingstock of London society at last spring's season. She wished now she had never gone, except if she hadn't, she would never have met the man she now loved so desperately that she was almost tempted to admit her love to him. But she couldn't. If she did, and he reciprocated her feelings-and she suspected he might, for why else had he decided to save her- would it not give him great pain if his plan, whatever it was, didn't work? If she had to submit to the duke, the marquess, and Lord Bertram before a leering crowd of gentlemen? Lucinda had never felt nearer to crying in her entire life.

The next few days pa.s.sed more quickly than she would have wanted. They spent the time together, riding out over the fields, now summer-weary. He showed her the ungelded male yearling that was being sent to Turkey. It was a beautiful young animal the same rich chestnut color as her hair. It snuffled an apple from her hand, its soft muzzle tickling her palm. At night they made pa.s.sionate love together, but he still departed for his own chamber lest the temptation to see his face overcome her while he slept.

"You swear to me on your honor that you will come to London to the Whitley ball," she said. Then, "You can obtain an invitation, can't you, Robert?"

"My friend, Lord Bowen, will arrange it, my pet," he told her, kissing her brow. "Is it that important to you, Lucinda?"

"It is the most important thing in the world to me, Robert," she told him.

"Why?" he queried her, curious.

"You have played the role of The Master for the Devil's Disciples for several years now," she began. "You have said I am to be your last pupil no matter the consequences. I believe that indicates that you have a conscience of sorts, sir. You know what you have done is wrong. The rich and the powerful have no G.o.d-given rights to abuse the poor and the helpless. Not that that has ever stopped them, nor will it, I suspect, in years to come. If you can save me from the l.u.s.tful desires of my three suitors tomorrow night, even if you cannot, I shall give them a public set-down in London such as they cannot imagine. Would you not like to be there for that, Robert? Is it not a fitting and a just end to your career as The Master?"

"They will find another man to play The Master," he said.

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. I intend using my brother, the good Bishop of Wellington, to dismantle the Devil's Disciples. If he does not, I shall expose him and his cronies to the Archbishop of Canterbury, even if it means revealing my own shame. The Devil's Disciples shall abuse no more young women!" she finished firmly.

He burst out laughing, and then he kissed her soundly. "Lucinda, my pet, you swore to me that I should not master you, and by G.o.d, I have not! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me." Then he kissed her again, tumbling her onto her back with a chuckle. "I want to f.u.c.k you, my adorable little firebrand. Would you like that? A final f.u.c.k before I must send you back to London?"

"Come here to me, my wonderful master," Lucinda purred at him, drawing him down into the circle of her arms. "Ohh yes! That is very, very nice," she encouraged him as his lips and his tongue hungrily mouthed her lips, her straining throat, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He suckled upon her nipples. He could almost taste sweetness from the hardened little nubs atop the soft mounds of her bosom. His lips moved down her torso, kissing, licking, nipping teasingly. She murmured encouragement to him. He nuzzled the wonderful dark, curly bush of curls atop her plump mound, sliding his long body down and between her milky white thighs. Her nether lips were already moist, a tiny pearl of silvery c.u.m seeping from between them. He opened her tenderly and looked upon the rosy coral flesh for the first time. He had never used her in this fas.h.i.+on, for this was a lover's privilege, not a master's. Her little c.l.i.t stood at attention, almost throbbing before his eyes. Bending forward, he began to lick it hungrily, then suck upon it.

Lucinda cried out with undisguised pleasure. Her fingers tangled themselves into his thick dark hair, kneading at his scalp desperately. "Oh, G.o.d, yes!" she sobbed. "Yes!" She felt his teeth gently grazing her, and she shuddered with delight.

Finally he could bear no more of their love play. Her nails were digging into his shoulders indicating her need, and his need was every bit as great. He pulled himself up and, slipping between her open legs, thrust his c.o.c.k deep into her hot, wet love sheath, smiling as she sighed deeply beneath him. Slowly at first, and then more quickly he pistoned her, and Lucinda scored his back with her nails in her pa.s.sion. Her teeth sank into his shoulder.

He was hard. His great c.o.c.k probed deeply into her soft, yielding flesh. She sobbed with her need for him. This couldn't be the last time. It couldn't be. She wouldn't let it! She tightened herself around him as if she could never let him go. He groaned, and she wrapped her legs about his torso, sobbing. She was going to be the best f.u.c.k he had ever had, and when her revenge was complete, she would marry him. And he would want her! Then they came together in a blinding explosion of sensual delight that left them both half-conscious for several minutes afterward. / love you, Lucinda whispered in her heart, not knowing that he was silently whispering the same words to himself as his arms tightened about her comfortingly, and they slept.

When Lucinda awoke he was gone. The pillow where his head had rested was cold, but upon it lay a perfect white rose. She picked it up and smelled its heady fragrance, a smile upon her lips as she remembered their pa.s.sion the night before. Now, however, it was morning. This night she would face her persecutors. Whatever happened, she would still triumph over them, but she hoped with all of her heart that she could be saved from their l.u.s.t, which would be like a night jar was.h.i.+ng over her and befouling her. But if he could not dissuade those three buffoons, they would live to regret their actions. That, Lucinda promised herself.

"Master says you are to have a nice bath, and then he has picked out the garments you will wear tonight," Polly told her mistress. "Ohh, just think, m'lady. Tomorrow we'll be on our way back to London!"

"Yes," Lucinda replied, "but you'll not be long there, Poll. You'll return to the country by Christmas and be in your new home."

"I won't mind," Polly responded, "but it will be nice to see old Londontown a final time. I'm used to the country, m'lady, and now I've got me John. It's the quiet life for us both."

She took a long, leisurely bath, and Polly washed her hair. Lucinda was very surprised by the garments she found he had chosen. There was a delicate cambric chemise edged in lace on the sleeves over which she wore a small corset of flowered white silk that Polly laced up the back. Next came a silk petticoat, then a hooped underskirt support of bent wood. Over it was a quilted satin underskirt, cream with lavender flowers. Lucinda's gown, its skirts looped up on either side to show the underskirt, was embroidered lavender silk. It had a deep, round scooped neckline allowing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to swell slightly over the top, pushed up by her corset. The sleeves were tight to the elbow, and then a waterfall of creamy lace called en-gageants fell almost to her wrists below the sleeves. Her provocative neckline was edged in lace as well. Three bows adorned her pleated bodice, and there was a matching bow on each sleeve just above the engageants. She wore low-heeled slippers of cream silk on her feet and cream-colored silk stockings with rose garters. Her chestnut hair was piled high with several ringlets that tumbled down reaching her shoulders. Polly dressed it with fresh flowers. Pearl earbobs were fastened into her ears, and a filigreed gold cross on a chain was fastened about her slender neck.

Lucinda looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedchamber. "I look like the respectable lady I am," she said, and then she turned to The Master, who had just entered the room. "Why? Should I not be half-naked, or in something diaphanous meant to t.i.tillate?"

"No," he told her. "Not if my plan is meant to succeed, my pet. Tonight you must look and act the perfect lady. Now, remember to immediately obey every order I give you so it may seem as if you are properly mastered."

"What if your plan doesn't succeed?" she asked a final time.

"Then, my pet, you will find yourself stripped naked and bent over the Maiden Tamer so your suitors may have at you," he replied harshly. "So play your part well, Lucinda, that we may triumph over the Devil's Disciples this night." He took her hand up and kissed it. "One more thing, my pet. Polly, the patches, please." The maid handed him a small open box, and The Master extracted two black, heart-shaped patches which Polly dabbed with glue. The first he affixed to her left cheekbone. The second he put upon the swell of her right breast. "There, my pet, now you are ready," he said with a small smile.

He led her from the house, through the garden and the orchard, reversing their journey the first night she had come here. There was no long summer twilight for it was mid-September. Above them the full moon shone brightly, silvering the landscape around them. The little amphitheater was bright with flickering torches; its stands filled again with gentlemen in their dark, hooded cloaks. The Master wore his tight, dark breeches, his c.o.c.k hanging boldly out, his white cambric s.h.i.+rt opened at the neck. As he led Lucinda forward, there was a gasp of surprise from his audience.

The Master bowed to them, and then said, "My lords, I present to you tonight, Lady Lucinda Harrington, well-mastered now, and as tamed as any good house kitten should be. Make your curtsey to the Devil's Disciples, my pet."

Lucinda curtsied low, her head bent slightly, but not so low that the gentlemen were denied a tantalizing view of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She swallowed a giggle as many of them leaned forward eagerly to view the creamy swell of flesh with its shadowed dark valley. Their hot eyes seemed to be drawn to the little heart patch.

"We will begin, my lords, when you have put your hoods back," The Master announced.

Lucinda kept her face impa.s.sive as the hoods were flung back, and the faces, most of them familiar, were revealed. There was her brother, George, the saintly bishop, in the front row next to her three suitors. Oh, George would suffer for his perfidy, Lucinda thought, as eyes lowered, she considered her revenge.

"Why is she not naked?" the Duke of Rexford demanded.

"Aye, and where is the Maiden Tamer?" Lord Bertram called out.

"Hear me out, my lords," The Master said to them. "In the past you have brought me young women of low birth. I have mastered them for you, and you have had your sport. I have never failed you. This woman, however, is a real lady. While I have mastered her for you, I do not think you should use her publicly before our little club."

"And why not?" the Marquess of Hargrave wanted to know.

"Do you each still hope that Lady Lucinda will choose you for her husband, my lords?"