Page 89 of A Much Maligned Miss

“It’s nothing,” she said, letting her eyes roam over his face as she wondered if he wanted her to grab his backside. She was not quite sure she was ready to take such liberties just yet. She felt herself blushing faintly at the very idea!

“Why, Miss Halperston, have I finally managed to shock you?” he asked. The shameless creature was still caressing her posterior with a familiarity that quite flustered her.

“Not at all,” she protested. She would not want him running away with that idea! “I assure you!”

“Well, in that case, might I be permitted to draw your nightgown up?” he asked politely.

“My ballgown, you mean,” she reminded him.

He blinked. “Ah, yes.”

“Are—are we still behind the curtain?” she asked, seeing his blank expression.

“Pretend I have convinced you to accompany me outside for some air,” he said swiftly, pushing the bedsheets down so they were no longer huddled beneath them.

“To—to the folly?” she suggested desperately.

“The folly, yes, excellent notion,” he rasped. “Now roll onto your stomach.”

Her stomach? The stone folly at Vance Park flashed into her mind’s eye, chilly and filled with cobwebs. Why on earth would she be rolling around on the ground in there? She opened her mouth ask when it suddenly struck her a maenad would certainly roll around in the dead leaves with scant thought for decency or even comfort!

She complied, rolling away from him. He swiftly followed and there was the rustle of the bedsheets and Caroline felt her nightgown brush against the backs of her knees and then higher and higher still until she could feel the nip of the night air against her lower half.

“Well, well,” Gervaise murmured. “No undergarments. Perhaps you were hoping to get seduced tonight.” Caroline cleared her throat. She could think of no earthly reason why she would not have dressed adequately for the party at Vance Park.

“And what a peach of a derriere,” he continued lightly. Did he just compare her backside to a piece of fruit? She turned her head to look back at him. “And what is this here?” he asked, brushing his fingers just above the spot where her right buttock met her thigh.

“It is a mole,” Caroline answered, knowing the answer to this.

“And such impertinent placement,” he tutted. Impertinent? She considered this a moment as he ran his thumb over it. “Do you know in a bygone era women used the placement of beauty patches to draw one’s attention to certain features? One next to your lips for instance was called ‘la coquette’ as it made men think of kissing their lips.”

“I had heard of it,” Caroline admitted cautiously, though she had thought beauty patches were to cover pox marks. “I always thought such practices were confined to faces. What would you call one on your bottom?”

He laughed. “I would call it extremely provocative, my dear Miss Halperston,” he murmured. “I believe I will call this mole La provocateur. May I?”

“May you what?”

“Kiss it, of course.”

Of course? Caroline stifled her gasp of disbelief. “Err, if you wish to do so,” she spluttered, entirely failing to match his light, teasing tone. The next thing she knew, he must have lowered his head, for, his hot breath was in a most unseemly place. Caroline lay there utterly still, scarcely daring to breathe.

Ought she have given permission for this? she suddenly wondered in a panic. She was not entirely sure. Wives probably did not. Mistresses though? Mistresses probably were not so particular, she comforted herself. Then she felt the whisper of his lips against her rear and stopped thinking altogether as he trailed light kisses down her buttock until he reached the mole, which she was almost sure he swiped with his tongue. She had to bite down a whimper.

Did that even count as a kiss? Then she thought about his kiss. It had involved quite a lot of tongue, she was forced to concede. Perhaps it was a kiss after all. He sighed against the swell of her flesh and then returned to her mole. It felt like he was teasing it with the tip of his tongue. What an odd thing to do, she marveled, feeling her face turn very red.

She ought to take a gulp of air, but she didn’t want him to think she was lying here wheezing like an aging pug. Her other buttock, he kissed directly in the center, a deliberate and resounding smacker of a kiss. Then, abruptly, he seized her hips and flipped her over. “Miss Halperston,” he said in the same politely enquiring tone.

“Yes?” she gasped, blinking up at him. There was something rather terrible about the contrast between his manner and his actions. It made her wits struggle to comprehend what precisely was happening.

“Might I be permitted to unbutton your gown?”

Caroline darted a confused look down at her buttons. They only ran down as far as her breasts. It was at this point she noticed he had not dragged her nightgown back down over her legs, so she was exposed to the waist and looking extremely indecent. Her eyes returned to his and he smiled at her reassuringly.

His gaze remained on her face the whole time. She could only suppose he was waiting for permission to look at her breasts. “Er, yes, please do.” Her face must be scarlet by this point, she thought helplessly.

He turned his attention at once to the buttons and started unfastening them in an unhurried fashion. He got halfway down before asking, “Are you fond of this ballgown, Caroline?”

“Not at all,” she began, “though—” At this point, a resounding tear sounded as he ripped it down to her belly button.