Page 37 of The Songbird of Wychwood

CHAPTER 23

GEORGE

The evening at Wychwood was unexpectedly eventful, what with one of the members becoming a boorish drunk, demanding his absent companion, and then skidding down the stairs on his arse. All fellows of our preference fear the threat of a raid, so several gents of a, shall we say, sensitive nature needed to be taken aside, given a stiff drink and calmed down before the party could continue. Mr. Joshua took the troublemaker to the kitchen where raised voices again interrupted the ballad I sang to pacify my gents. Mr. Hugo played louder to drown out the din as Mr. Joshua and 45 argued. Mr. 45 was later lead from the house to a waiting carriage and I suppose that will be the last we see of him, and good riddance!

I piled several napkins with left over pastries for my lover and I that would suffice as breakfast. I then purloined chocolates for Eloise as she’d go into an awful huff if I forgot a treat for her! It was just after three a.m. when we left. There was a peculiar tense atmosphere in the coach taking us home.

Alfonse Hugo spoke up, ending the awkward silence. “I trust that zhis 45 fellow will not return, Joshua. I have never vitnessed anything so…so…disagreeable at Vychvood. Der Herr war eine Bedrohung!”

“I agree Alfonse, he was a menace, and our members should not feel afraid while at the house. The employer will be informed and I can only recommend that 45’s gold token be returned. However, it is the employer’s decision as to whether this happens.”

I learned then, as Hugo had absently reverted to his native tongue, that Mr. Joshua understood German. That was interesting! I knew next to nothing about the man, except that he was the go-between who ensured we were paid well, and that all was in order during the parties.

“Some of our fellows thought we were being raided. I can’t see how any man could get a stand after that shock! I for one don’t ever wish to see the bugger again.” I added sharply. He’d interrupted the lovely dance with my secret beau and we couldn’t have a second go for fear the other members would complain of favoritism.

The coach rumbled on over cobbles as we headed into the city where freezing rain joined the fog. I was keen to get home, to release myself from this tight bodice, and to sink into the arms of my Percy.

“The matter is in hand, and I am certain it will be decided by the next event,” Mr. Joshua said with finality. That shut both Hugo me and up and the uncomfortable silence returned for the remainder of the journey.

The coachman first left Mr. Joshua on Portland Place in Westminster and then he headed for Covent Garden to drop me off. Carriages and hacks currently didn’t travel down Drury Lane at night because there was a gang on the street targeting coachmen, and word had gotten around that it was a no-go area. The police hadn’t caught the buggers yet and so I was dropped off on Kingsway. I had to scurry down the cobbles of Parker Street in the pouring rain, wearing heeled boots, while trying to hold my cloak closed. The hidden pockets were weighed down with pastries and chocolates so I failed in my attempts to keep the hem of my dress and cloak out of the puddles. I ran down the back alley and then searched in my cloak pocket for my key. Damn it! I couldn’t find the bloomin’ key. I hammered on the stage door. After a minute the raspy voice of Harold asked “Who is it?”

“It’s George. I forgot my bloody key. Let me in Harold, it’s pissing down!” The snick of a slip lock, then a second, and finally the turn of a key and the door opened. I stepped inside and shook myself like a dog.

“It’s weather for ducks out there. Did my brother arrive?” I asked in a shivery voice.

“Bruvver…yeah,” Harold smirked, “He did, at around twelve-thirty. He’s probably found your room by now!”

I hadn’t thought about the fact that Percy didn’t know the way through the warren of corridors to find the stairs to my room as we’d come in from the fire escape before. “You’re not going out in that, are you?” I asked the doorman.

“Nah, I’ve got a cot made up in my cubby, and a naggin of Gin for company. Now that you’re home I can finally get some shut eye. I’ve lit the ghost light. Of you go! Goodnight George.”

I hurried down the corridors where just one gas lamp was lit in each. I switched them off as I went as Mr. Grayson ain’t made of money, and he already grumbles about the gas bill! I was shivering worse by the time I rushed up the stairs and then down the hall to my room. When I stepped inside and closed the door I was greeted by a wall of warmth and wonderful sight. Percy had set the gas stove and so the room was deliciously warm. He was laid out on the couch wearing his trousers, no socks, and his white linen shirt hung loose with no cravat or collar. He was reading my manuscripts, and looked relaxed and, dare I say it, at home. Percy seemed to light up when he met my gaze. He then put the pages down and jumped up from the couch.

“Good lord, you’re drenched. Let me help you out of those clothes.”

“Nice to see you too!” I grinned fondly, honestly not giving a hoot that I looked like a drowned rat. Percy was here and the addition of my caring paramour made the room somehow more homely.

I untied the ribbon on my cloak and Percy eased the sodden garment off my shoulders.

“I’ve got some pastries in the inner pockets for us and some chocolates for Eloise.” I said carefully lowering the cloak into Percy’s arms. “We’ll need to ring out the cloak in the sink, and then drape it over a chair in front of the stove,” I instructed. When the cloth napkins of blessedly dry foods were removed and stored in the pantry, we worked together to ring out the velvet cloak and then draped it. Once that was done, I strode to my dressing table, lifted my sodden skirts, and sat. I untied my boot laces. My feet were aching something awful, and although these boots were of a feminine design made for a manly foot and were lovely to look at, they were a bugger to wear for hours on end.

“Here, let me do that,” Percy said as he lowered to his knees in front of me and began untying the laces. He looked up, his luminous green eyes shining. Arousal overtook me as he eased the wet turquoise satin hem of my gown up to fold over my knee, then held my right foot and continued easing the foot out of the red leather boot. He looked up and caught my eye again, a knowing smirk on his face. He surely knew exactly what this careful attention was doing to me. I reached out and brushed a blond curl away from his brow. He bit his lip as he moved to the second boot, unlacing it, and easing my foot out. I wore silk stockings that were kept in place by garters just above the knee. To my surprise Percy then gave each foot a squeeze and rub that felt even better than Eloise’s foot massage. I groaned as his thumb pressed into the arch of my right foot and my pego began to take notice.

“Come; let’s get you out of that dress, aye?”

“I’ll unpin my wig first.” Once the wig was unpinned and positioned safely on a wooden stand on my dressing table, I removed the wig cap, and then reached for the jar of cold cream. The rain had made an awful mess of my makeup. Percy stood behind me and lovingly brushed my hair so it wasn’t flattened to my scalp anymore. The feeling of him using both his fingers and the brush was deliciously comforting, and when the cold cream was on my face, I rested my head back on Percy’s abdomen and watched him in the mirror. Neither of us spoke as he cared for me, and there was more said in our looks than words could say. After a minute I eased up and with a cloth, removed the cold cream and makeup from my face. In the mirror I was finally George again. I rose and stepped in front of the full-length mirror beside the dressing table. Without direction Percy took his place behind me, kissed my bare shoulders, and up to my nape as his eyes pinned mine in the mirror. He untied the top ribbon of the bodice and slowly pulled the ribbon through each eyelet hole, releasing me from my self-imposed bondage. I reached up my arms and stretched, inhaling to allow my lungs to fill to capacity once again. When Percy was done, I removed the bodice and then eased my turquoise silk skirt over my head. I then untied and removed the crinoline cage. Behind me, Percy gasped, “Good lord!”

I stood with nothing but red silk French knickers and stockings on. His fingertips trailed over my flesh where the bodice had left small red circle markings. They had been pressed into my skin by the metal eyelets when the ribbons were pulled tight. I turned to the mirror to see a line of marks either side of my spine.

“How long will it take for them to vanish?” Percy asked softly as he kissed each reddened circle, the brush of his soft moustache making me shudder with need.

“A…a few hours,” I whispered, and then I turned and threaded my hands around his neck. “Take me to bed, love. I’m frozen to my bones.”

“I’d wager it’s because all of your blood has flowed down here,” he said as he palmed my pego through the soft silk of my knickers. His nimble fingers on my stand sent a dart of pleasure up my spine. I threw my head back and moaned, and then I leaped up and he caught me, cradling my arse as my thighs gripped his hips. I kissed him, so hungry was I for a taste of my fella. Percy stumbled to the bed and eased me down. Then he slowly dragged the garters and stockings off. I lifted my backside so he could pull the French knickers down. I then hurriedly pulled back the covers and scrambled underneath then into the cold bed, my teeth chattering. Percy stripped and joined me, pulling me into his arms. We laid there warming the bed for a little while, our hands roaming over soft skin and the planes of hard muscle. Gods, I so loved the feeling of this man in my arms.

“I’ve had an idea that I’d like to discuss with you,” Percy said softly. My curiosity piqued and I cocked a brow.

“I’ve been thinking about setting up a music publishing company.”