Chapter Eleven

Content warnings can be found here

In the positively disreputable hours of the morning, Edward leaped down from carriage as Peaches scurried about after whatever little bits and matter he’d left knocking about in his wake.

The town house was rather splendid, and Edward always felt a thrill as he strolled up the steps and handed his hat and cane to a footman who was far too proper and respectful to tut or yawn. 

Now the necessary mourning period was over, it was damned good to be back in town. Forthenby was all very well, but it had taken less than twenty-four hours of acquainting himself with the business of the estate before he had realised it was far better left in Hedge’s competent hands, and without that, what else was there to do in the countryside? 

Besides, Edward had plans.

So, after a suitable interval, he had presented himself at St James’, then returned in glory to his old haunts, re-establishing acquaintance with the roistering coves who had stood by him in his penury, and cutting everyone else in the most satisfying fashion. Because it was amazing the way in which a title and forty thousand pounds a year could affect a total rebirth. People recognised him, Edward was sure of that - and not just faithful pals like Stevens and Jackson - it was just that the miserly tosspots who’d been content to abandon him to the vagaries of fate were willing to pretend that Lord Forthenby was not the same Teddy Valance whom they had neglected in his need. And, well, he was hardly going to chase the acquaintance - if he cut them, it served their pride to bolster his facade of being someone entirely else. 

The only ones he needed to fear were all the bawds and mollys of London Town, but, then, they knew everyone’s secrets and were believed by no-one. 

And there was Peaches, of course, but she was the only one he really trusted with anything. Edward heard her behind him as he came up the stairs, but gave no sign of it until they were safe within his private rooms. Only there, with the fire banked and the candles lit was he able to throw himself into an armchair and let the air of chilly command drop from him. 

“Oh, I’m dying for a drop of the real stuff, my darling,” he said. “If you would?”

“Only if you explain what you’re playing at.” The better part of a year at Forthenby had softened her accent and, in public, her manners differed not a jot from every other trained flunkey he’d met. 

Well, mostly.

He smirked, “Get me out of this stuff first, Peach.”

“Fuck off, Teddy,” she said, but did as she was told. As she did, he returned the favour, taking off that damned silly periwig first, then her neck-tie, her waistcoat, shirt. For a good long while there was no talk between them, just her mouth and her soft, dark skin. 

After the ballroom’s stifle, the exhaustion of sticking to his part, it was the sweetest relief to unlace the stays she used to flatten her breasts, to lift her, carry her, naked to his bed, to lay her down with his prick already plunging into her. 

Then there was talk, but it was all, Yes, now. Oh. Like that. Yes, yes, and her little teeth were at his neck, her thighs hard around his waist. His hands found her hair, her breasts, her cheeks, shoulders, ribs, legs, arse, wanting her, wanting every part of him in every single part of her. His bed was wide and deep and soft, and they seemed to fall into it, down and down and down.

And when the candles were dripping, and her hand was stroking his hair, and his hand was between her legs and her breasts were soft and hot against his chest, she said, “I’m waiting, Teddy.”

“Right,” he said, his fingers making a slow rhythm on the tender hardness of her clit. “So, Dickie. My old pal, Dickie, you remember him.”

“The one you want to shoot.”

“That’s the fellow.”

“But Hedge won’t let you.”

“Precisely. Well, he has a bit of tail.”

“Oh. I thought he was like you.”

“He is.” Edward leaned back into the soft, soft bed. “And more so than I’d believed heretofore. At one time, you know, I’d have sworn the fair sex didn’t interest him at all.”

“So, she’s pretty.”

“What? Oh, yes. Tolerably. Your type more than mine.”

She turned her head until she was so close that the sight of her blurred, and kissed him: cheek and jaw and mouth, “Well, I could do the job, if you want a volunteer.”

“What?”

“If there’s a ewe needs tupping, Teddy...”

He laughed, “I’m not planning to fuck the girl. It wouldn’t be fair.”

She tried to sit at that, then surrendered to his fingers and lay back down, “Well, forgive me, my Lord, but why the bloody hell did you spend an evening at a public ball if you weren’t thinking to get a lay out of it? Can’t have been the music.” She laughed. “And the champers was pretty dire, as well.”

“Peach, have you been drinking on the job?”

“Why the hell not?”

“Duty,” Edward said, honestly shocked. “Responsibility. All that blather.”

She cackled, “Oh, you swells are a right treat. It’s like when I was on the game. I’ve never met a john who didn’t think his favourite whore was in love with him.”

A little affronted, he said, “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I suppose that’s always the way, is it?”

He felt her tense under his hand, saw the touch of hardening in her face.

“Peaches, I’m a terrible boor when I’ve had a few. Worse, I’ve spent the evening doing my best Thornton impression and I must be having a hangover of utter bastardy. Will you forgive me?”

“No.”

“Please?”

She pulled a face, one that was not at all devoted servant, but entirely his sharp, cruel Peaches. It made him want to fall to his knees, to make her scream in pleasure. “Tell me exactly what you’re playing at, and I’ll consider it.” 

He slid his fingers inside her and out again, feeling the wet-silk touch of his seed. He pressed his thumb on her clit, moving slow circles. “Miss Serafina Tooting,” he said, “is much reported as a a young woman of probity and virtue, and moreover has the tongue of a termagant, but for all this I bear her very little ill will. What brings her to my attention is the fact that she is the latest object of Mr Richard Thornton’s affectionate interest.” He leaned over and kissed her to stop himself from saying, A position occupied until recently by none other than myself. “And Dickie, now, Dickie Thornton, is a man remarkable among polite society not only for his frankly breath-taking posture and cruel mou - ow.”

“Stay on topic, my Lord,” she said, and gave his nipple another twist.

“Very well, the physical charms of Richard Thornton aside, he is a man...” she had not let go of his nipple, and he caught his breath. “A man remarkable among polite society for the sheer depth and intensity of his jealous feeling. He is less famous for this than his other, more striking characteristics because of the skill with which he conceals it, but his intimates assure me that he considers those things which he has claimed to bear his mark indelibly. They are not permitted to be profaned by the gaze or adulation of lesser mortals, nor must they express any interest beyond his blessed countenance. No. He must be the altar at which they worship, for now and for all time. Why, even after he has chucked one, he still requires one to kiss his footprints for the rest of your mutual.” He laughed, short and bitter. “You know, he nearly broke my jaw once just for making myself agreeable to some ladies?” 

Peaches smirked.

“It hurt like hell!” 

“I was just imagining your idea of making yourself agreeable to someone, Teddy.”

“Well, on reflection, I probably shouldn’t have done it in his bed. But,” he said, and hooked his fingers inside her, making her arch her back. “That’s beside the point. I was his, and I was not entitled to stray. He came down hard on me because… because I was his...” 

And he stopped, somehow unwilling to repeat the old endearment Dickie had given him, the one he had moaned at, the one he had shaped with his own mouth more times than he could count. 

“Because, I was a chap, wasn’t I? An old school-fellow and a notable roustabout no less. Suffice to say, he never expected anything better of me, and when I displeased him, the blame fell squarely upon my own shoulders. All he needed do was identify the miscreant and punish him, etcetera. Miss Tooting, however, is a paragon, an angel sent down to teach us fool mortals the error of our ways and can commit no error upon her own account. Or so I am given to understand. Can’t see it myself.”

“And Dickie’s the jealous one?”

“Well, yes. The whoreson put a pistol to my head for walking her up to tea. He set the bailiffs on me for turning the pages on her fucking sheet music.”

“He what?”

“So how’s he going to take me courting his girl, eh? The one to whose hand he, ah, dare not aspire. Me. The Earl of Forthenby.” He laughed, “Oh, if only I could see that dear, cross face of his when he hears about it. Coming round and whipping me would be his preferred method, of course, but that’s not an option anymore, old chap. Have to do it in the gentlemanly fashion, and my Thornton never could shoot for toffee.” He laughed again. 

She did not.

 “Quite a jape, though, eh? What do you think, Peaches?”

“What was that about the bailiffs?”

He shrugged, and tried to keep working at her cunt, but she moved away. “Well, someone must have told them where to find me.”

“And you… you just forgot to mention that?”

“Well, it hardly matters now, does it?”

Both her fists slammed into his shoulders, hard, very hard.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“This ain’t a game, Teddy.”

“Alright, it’s not,” and he leaned back against the bed, and closed his eyes. “But could we possibly discuss the ways in which it is not when I’m sober?”

There was a sharp pain along one side of his face. She had slapped him. She hadn’t done that in months. When he looked at her face, her eyes were bright and tearful. 

“I understand why you’re upset,” he lied. “But I’d like it if you stopped hitting me.”

“You’d like it if I stopped? You want to wait til you’re fucking sober. You want me to shut my bloody mouth when it doesn’t suit my Lordship, is that it?”

Edward let out an exasperated breath, “You know that ain’t what I mean.”

“Oh, ain’t it now?”

“Peaches, I rely on you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Look, it’s late, and I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, you can lie abed ’til eleven if you like.”

“Yes, and if you can’t then it makes all the more sense that we get some sleep now, eh? That’s the reasonable thing to do, ain’t it?”

“And I’m not reasonable enough for you, is that it, my Lord?”

“I do wish you wouldn’t turn the title into a weapon, Peaches.”

Her fist impacted on the bed next to him, and she swore, loudly enough to cause upset had there been other people about in the house. Her jaw was clenched, and she was sniffing like she was trying her very hardest not to cry. 

Which meant he was probably in the wrong.