The Blushing Harlot (When the Wallflowers were Wicked Book 4) Read online

  “Your thighs are like softened peaches,” the man went on, followed by uncomfortably squelchy sounds. “I could drink your nectar all day.”

  The sounds continued as the woman’s panting grew louder and more pitched. “My stallion,” she yelped, sounding as though she were near climax.

  “Your vessel is so precious that I should have concealed that diamond deep within your quivering walls,” the man went on.

  Rebecca had to swallow her gasp. She whipped to face her friends, mouthing the words, “The diamond?”

  “Yes, my darling, you would have liked it if I had fucked you with that great, thick diamond, then left it buried deep within you,” the man continued as the woman’s mewling grew desperate. “Then you could have walked right out of here under that bastard, Khan’s, nose instead of all the trouble I had to go through.”

  The woman evidently didn’t care one bit what her companion was revealing. She moaned and gasped with complete abandon. Rebecca, on the other hand, could hardly keep still as a different kind of excitement surged through her. The diamond thief was on the other side of the wall. He’d confessed everything without knowing it. All Rebecca had to do to solve the case that Nigel had just begun to investigate was to find the right peephole.

  She raised her candle and searched for handles on the wall, her heart pounding in her chest. As soon as she found one at her height—most of them were several inches above her head, as though meant for use by men or women of greater height—she handed her candle to Caro and slowly slid the panel to the side.

  Her heart caught in her throat at the sight that met her, and her body flushed with heat. The room she now peeked into was decorated in an exotic, Indian style. Rich textiles and erotic art adorned the walls. Several colorful, carved chests and cabinets lined the wall. The centerpiece of the room was a padded, oblong piece of furniture that Rebecca could only describe as a chaise. The man and woman they’d been listening to were quite busy using it for the purpose Rebecca assumed it was intended to serve, but that in itself presented an uncomfortable problem.

  The woman was bent forward, almost as though in prayer. Her legs were spread wide as the gentlemen took her from behind. His movements were vigorous, which posed part of the problem. He bent so far over the woman as he tupped her that Rebecca couldn’t see his face. Even more frustrating, the couple was facing away from the wall. The woman’s skirts were thrown over her head, thoroughly concealing her identity. The only bit of the man that Rebecca had a clear view of was his finely sculpted backside as it pushed and flexed at a punishing pace. His breeches were loose around his knees and his shirt covered the rest of his body. The only distinguishing characteristic Rebecca could make out was a birthmark on the man’s right cheek in the shape of a half moon.

  Rebecca pulled away from the peephole, quickly scanning the narrow passage to determine if there were more points of observation that would afford them a view of either participant’s face. What she saw were Caro and Jo with their faces pressed up against the wall. Jo was so enthralled with what she saw that her candle tipped farther and farther to one side, dripping wax to the floor.

  “Jo,” Rebecca hissed.

  Her call had the opposite effect than what she’d hoped for. Jo jerked straight, dropping her candle in the process. The resulting clatter was followed by a strangled cry from the man in the room.

  “What was that?” the woman asked in a muffled voice.

  Rebecca gestured for her friends to flee as fast as they could. Caro snapped her peephole closed and slid the panel concealing Jo’s into place as well. Jo bent to scoop up her fallen candlestick, and as soon as she had it in hand, the three of them retreated down the passageway as fast as they could.

  Rebecca was hardly aware of anything until they squeezed their way out from behind the wardrobe in their room at the school. Panting and terrified, they closed the passageway door and pushed the wardrobe back into place. Even then, the three of them leaned against the wall, ears pressed to the wallpaper, anxious to hear if they’d been followed. Blessedly, the walls were silent.

  “Do you think whoever that was knows about the passages?” Jo asked, still whispering.

  “There’s no way to tell,” Rebecca said. “Either way, they didn’t follow us.”

  “Can you be sure?” Caro asked, stepping away from the wall and collapsing onto her bed. She was covered in a light layer of dust and her hair was disheveled.

  Rebecca moved away from the wall, brushing her skirts and hair as well. “They would have caught us by now,” she said.

  “I don’t know how I would even begin to explain what I saw if they do find us and question us,” Jo said, her eyes wide and glassy, as she retreated to her bed. “That was….” She didn’t seem capable of finishing.

  “That was nothing compared to what my sister and Lord Grey would do,” Rebecca said with a sudden grin. She shook her head and pushed that part of what they’d witnessed aside. “More importantly, that man is the diamond thief.”

  “Agreed,” Caro said. “But who was he?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at his face,” Rebecca admitted. “Just his ass.”

  “I saw it too,” Jo said. “He had a birthmark shaped like a half moon.”

  “More like a full moon, if you ask me,” Caro added with a smirk.

  Rebecca couldn’t help it. She dissolved into laughter, sinking onto her bed and clutching her sides as the humor of the situation hit her. “How utterly ridiculous.”

  “It is, rather.” Caro joined her in laughter.

  Jo broke down as well, and in no time, the three of them were rolling on their beds. But Rebecca still felt the press of urgency where the diamond was concerned.

  “Nigel has to know about this,” she said. “I have to find a way to tell him.”

  “Agreed,” Jo said, pushing herself to sit straight. “But what can you say? That the diamond thief has a birthmark on his bum? Surely your Nigel won’t gather up all the suspects and demand they lower their breeches and present their bottoms for inspection.”

  Caro drew in an excited breath. “A whole line of men presenting their bottoms.” Her cheeks flushed and her gaze turned dreamy.

  Rebecca cleared her throat, bringing Caro back to earth. “Nigel should be able to do something.”

  “And truly, we know more than just the birthmark,” Caro went on. Rebecca and Jo glanced questioningly at her. “The man was English,” Caro said. “His bottom was deliciously pink. Or if he was Indian, his nether region was decidedly fair.”

  “And he was young,” Rebecca said, excited by the details she hadn’t realized she’d caught. “That was not the bum of an old man. He was too vigorous for age as well.”

  “But we couldn’t see his hair,” Jo said disappointedly. “He could have been blond or brunette or ginger for all we know.”

  “And his shirt was too ordinary to say if he was wealthy or poor.” Caro deflated as well. “I wish I had thought to look for his jacket. That would have told us more.”

  “We know quite a bit,” Rebecca said. “And that information needs to be conveyed to Nigel.”

  “But how can you reach out to him when we’re trapped here?” Jo asked.

  Rebecca chewed her lip and thought about it for a while.

  “If only we had friends on the outside,” Caro sighed.

  Inspiration struck Rebecca, and she sat straighter. “We do,” she said. “I can write to my friend Sophia. We aren’t barred from writing to our friends. Sophia will be able to get a message to Nigel.”

  “That’s a splendid idea,” Jo said, clapping her hands. “Huzzah for still having friends in the outside world.”

  A twist of pity struck Rebecca. She was lucky in that regard. The Barnes sisters were her friends, and she was certain she could rely on them. As far as she knew, Jo and Caro had no one.

  “I shall write to Sophie first thing tomorrow, as soon as we are let out of our cages. Sophie will know how we can contact Nigel, and once we do,
we will help him catch this diamond thief.

  Chapter 3

  Sophie was a savior. Or to be more precise, her sister Verity was. Rebecca sent a letter to Sophie by special courier before the school’s drab breakfast of lukewarm oatmeal—without any sugar—was finished, and a mere two hours later, as Rebecca, Jo, and Caro were dutifully painting flowers and woodland creatures on a never-ending line of teacups, an invitation to tea at the Marquess of Landsbury’s house arrived.

  “My, my,” Miss Dobson said with a sniff as Rebecca put away her teacup art and started up to her bedroom to change into the one gown from the outside world that she’d been allowed to keep. “We must think very highly of ourselves to have such well-placed friends inviting us to tea.”

  Rebecca narrowed her eyes at the woman in loathing. It was clear she was green with jealousy that Rebecca had received any invitation at all. In all her time at the school, she couldn’t remember Miss Dobson being invited to dine anywhere.

  “I can’t imagine why I’m being summoned to such a lofty home,” Rebecca said, blushing furiously. She knew exactly why the invitation had been issued. If Sophie had followed through on the rest of the request Rebecca had made, Nigel would be at Landsbury House as well.

  “Perhaps the Marchioness of Landsbury wishes to interview you for the position of scullery maid,” Miss Dobson said, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at Rebecca. “Though I would not entrust you with even that.”

  “No, miss,” Rebecca said, adding a facetious curtsy.

  She darted upstairs and changed out of her uniform in no time, and was back downstairs, waiting on the school’s front steps for the carriage Verity’s note said would pick her up before she could catch her breath. The sense of freedom that came with being allowed out of the school, even if it was for just one afternoon, sent Rebecca’s pulse pounding. It would be glorious if she could leave and never come back, if she could strike out on her own and make a new life. A part of her was certain Nigel would support her if she tried. He might do more than support her, he might—

  But no, her heart sank as cold reality doused her, even as the cheery autumn sun of Manchester Square bathed her. Nigel was a Bow Street Runner. His life was most likely filled with danger. And while that didn’t bother her in the least, it was also likely that he had very little money as a result. He’d always dressed casually when she’d seen him, and subtle hints about the length of his hair and the stubble on his chin hinted that he didn’t have a valet caring for him. Could he even afford a wife? She didn’t mind the prospect of slipping down a few notches on the social ladder, but if she was going to do such a thing, she would need to acquire far more skills than painting teacups, speaking French, and playing the pianoforte. She would—

  “Oh, Mr. Hobbs, you are too kind.”

  The hair on the back of Rebecca’s neck suddenly stood up at the sound of Miss Dobson thanking the greengrocer. She twisted to the ally that led to the mews behind the school just as Miss Dobson and Mr. Hobbs stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Henny,” Mr. Hobbs said, tipping his hat.

  It wasn’t the forward way the grocer treated Miss Dobson or their sudden appearance that had caused such a reaction in Rebecca, it was the pitch of Miss Dobson’s voice, the flirtatious lilt to her words. It sounded familiar. Strikingly familiar. Like a certain mystery woman she, Jo, and Caro had observed in a scandalous position the night before. But it couldn’t be. Miss Dobson had been marching about the school, locking pupils in their rooms and threatening them with dire bodily harm if they so much as made a peep. Although if she were honest, Rebecca hadn’t heard the woman shouting threats in the hall for a good while before she and her friends had commenced their mission in the secret passage.

  She didn’t have time to contemplate the odd situation further. A carriage with the Landsbury coat of arms pulled up in front of the school and the door opened.

  “Good,” Verity said from the carriage’s luxuriously appointed interior. “You’re waiting. I won’t have to enter that awful school to fetch you.”

  Rebecca was glad as well. She skipped down the front stairs and flew into the carriage, hoping that Miss Dobson was too busy with Mr. Hobbs to take any note of her departure. As soon as she was inside and seated beside Verity, she let out a breath of relief.

  “Thank you so much for helping me, Miss Verity. Or, no, I should call you Lady Landsbury now,” Rebecca said.

  Verity laughed with such happiness that Rebecca couldn’t help but smile along with her. “I have no use for stuffy formality,” she said. “Call me Verity and be done with it.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said.

  Verity Manfred was a sight to behold. She was vastly pregnant with her first child, but that hadn’t stopped her from wearing a diaphanous gown in the latest and most scandalous, French style. The neckline scooped so low over her pregnancy-expanded breasts that Rebecca couldn’t help but gape in the fear that, with one strong jolt of the carriage, they would pop out entirely.

  “They are amazing, aren’t they?” Verity giggled in response to Rebecca’s staring, taking hold of her breasts. “Thomas certainly enjoys them these days, although the alarming amount of tenderness this increased size has brought with it has killed some of the joy for me.”

  If anything, Rebecca gaped harder. No one in her entire life had spoken so freely and openly about such things. It was somehow even more shocking than spying on her sister and Lord Grey in flagrante.

  “I wager that you’ll find yourself in this delightful condition in no time,” Verity went on, carrying the entire conversation as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “Mr. Kent was devilishly eager to accept my invitation to tea this afternoon.” Her eyes held a distinct sparkle and she couldn’t hold her mirth inside.

  “I have so much to tell him,” Rebecca found her voice at last. “My friends and I may have discovered something of vital importance to Nigel’s investigation of the theft of a precious diamond last night.”

  “I heard about the stolen diamond,” Verity said, glowing with excitement. “Tell me more.”

  Rebecca spent the remainder of the short journey spilling out everything that had happened since the previous afternoon. Verity seemed particularly interested in the secret passageway connecting the school and the house owned by the East India Company. By the time they reached Landsbury House, both women were buzzing with excitement about all of the possibilities the theft, the investigation, and Rebecca’s discoveries implied.

  “Do you know,” Verity said as they alighted from the carriage and made their way into Landsbury House’s front hall, “I think I rather like your friend Caro’s fascination with an entire line of men dropping their breeches simultaneously. I must have her for tea sometime. Perhaps I could ask the footmen to provide a suitable display.”

  Rebecca was about to reply that Caro’s sensibilities didn’t need that sort of validation when she turned the corner into a sitting room and nearly ran headlong into Nigel.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed as Nigel caught her to keep her from spilling to the floor. Rebecca’s senses ran riot as she gazed up into his eyes. The heat from his muscular body seemed to cut right through the thin muslin of her gown. Or perhaps that was the sudden flush that pulsed through her. “Nigel,” she sighed his name in greeting.

  “Miss Burgess,” Nigel replied, slightly more formal, but still charged with attraction.

  Verity cleared her throat. “I can see when I am not needed. I’ll leave the two of you to discuss your diamond case in peace. Besides, I am in dire need of a chamber pot, thanks to this little bundle of joy.” She rubbed her hands over her large stomach.

  Before Verity departed, she reached into nearly concealed pockets on either side of the doorway and drew out sliding doors. They closed in the center with a click that left Rebecca and Nigel secluded in the parlor and sent Rebecca’s pulse soaring.

  For a lingering moment, silence reigned as Rebecca st
ared up into Nigel’s warm, dark eyes. She forgot where she was and why she was there. All she could think about was the night Nigel had taken her home after Lady Charlotte’s party, the way her skin had tingled from his touch and her heart had felt as though it would burst from her chest. She’d thought the tingling was due to her state of undress and the sugar covering her body, but as she stood there in Verity’s parlor, the tickling sensation was back. It made her want to shimmy out of her clothes and ply herself against Nigel’s body.

  “You look well, Miss Burgess,” Nigel said at last, clearing his throat and taking a step back.

  Rebecca’s heart squeezed at the loss of his warmth. “You can call me Rebecca,” she said, stepping with him when he moved toward the sofa closer to the room’s cheerfully crackling fire.

  “Are you certain?” Nigel asked, inviting her to sit.

  “Of course.” Rebecca sat. When Nigel took a seat at the other end of the sofa, she scooted closer to him. “And I hope you don’t mind if I call you Nigel.”

  Nigel cleared his throat again and shifted uneasily in his seat. He tugged at his jacket, attempting to conceal his lap. Men’s fashion didn’t exactly allow him to hide everything, though. Rebecca’s heart galloped in her chest at the slight bulge in his breeches.

  “Rebecca,” he said, color splashing his cheeks. Her name sounded so sweet on his lips that she leaned closer to him, her gaze dropping to the fascinating line of his mouth. He cleared his throat yet again and said, “You’ve discovered something about the stolen diamond?”

  Instantly, visions of the carnal activity she and her friends had observed flashed to her mind. But instead of the mystery couple entwined so passionately, she saw herself bent over, bottom in the air, while Nigel pleasured her from behind. Only, as much as she’d witnessed in the past, her mind drew a blank when it came to what it would feel like to be engaged in such activities.

  Nigel squirmed beside her, which jerked Rebecca back into the present with a gasp. She lowered her head slightly, her cheeks on fire, and pressed a hand to her chest. The movement only served to draw Nigel’s eyes to the modest neckline of her gown. He stared as though her bodice were as low-cut as Verity’s.