Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) Read online

  Title Page

  ELIZABETH’S EDUCATION

  by

  MAGGIE CARPENTER

  Publisher Information

  Elizabeth’s Education first published in 2003 by

  Chimera Publishing Ltd

  PO Box 152

  PO8 9FS

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Digital edition converted and published by

  Andrews UK Limited 2010

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright © Maggie Carpenter

  The right of Maggie Carpenter to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

  Introduction

  ‘As I said, I am going to sit on that chair, and then lay you across my lap, face down. I’m going to lift your dress above your waist, and your petticoat as well. Then I am going to pull your drawers down, exposing your bare bottom.’

  Elizabeth felt her face turn scarlet and her eyes grew wider still.

  ‘And do you know what I’m going to do then, Elizabeth?’ he asked mildly, and she shook her head from side to side, terrified of what he was about to say. ‘Well, then I’m going to spank you, Elizabeth, with the lovely gardens as a delightful backdrop. And when my hand gets tired, my dear, do you know what I’ll do then?’

  Elizabeth gasped through the gag in apprehensive disbelief.

  Chapter 1

  It was late, and tucked up in her four-poster bed, her hair carefully pinned, Elizabeth closed her eyes and replayed the events of the day.

  Lord Michael had come to the manor, and despite her feverish attempts to get his attention he paid her no heed whatsoever. Instead he had gone shooting with her annoying older brother, James, and then spent the entire evening smoking cigars and drinking brandy with her father in the drawing room.

  ‘It is not a place for young ladies,’ her father had told her more often than she cared to remember, and so she was banished from their company after dinner. Exiled. Men and their rules, and their stinky old habits!

  She just did not understand it, for her charms were near legendary. All the eligible young men, and even the majority of the older ones, married or no, were eager to spend time with her. At all the balls and events she attended her dance card was always full, and while she thoroughly enjoyed the attention bestowed upon her at these gatherings, she could not help but feel a little frustrated that the enigmatic Lord Michael had never once joined the admiring throngs.

  Before the last such event, she had insisted upon travelling into London to buy a brand new gown. She was determined to look ravishing, and though she would not admit it to anyone but herself, she wanted to look ravishingly irresistible for him!

  She found a dress that was the newest fashion from Paris. It was a deep blue satin, and in the latest style was tight about her waist and fit snugly over her hips. The bodice was trimmed in fine lace and boasted a high collar, accentuating her slender throat. The seamstress had cleverly sewn sequins here and there, haphazardly, which shimmered in the light.

  When Grace, her maid, had finished pinning Elizabeth’s hair on top of her head, a twinkling sapphire comb to one side, she was very pleased with her appearance. She stood in front of her full-length mirror admiring the overall picture. As far as she was concerned, Lord Michael must surely take notice now.

  But no, on the contrary, he did not. In fact, he did not even stay at the party very long, and it seemed to her that every time she glanced in his direction he was looking decidedly bored, and even once she caught him surreptitiously shielding a yawn of tedium behind a hand.

  So when she heard her father had invited him for the coming weekend she was delighted. Given the close proximity that would now be theirs, she was sure he would fall madly in love with her, as had all the other men that crossed her path.

  But even during dinner, when she made sure she was placed next to him, all she saw was the back of his shoulder. He carried on an endless, and what seemed to her to be an incredibly tedious conversation, about the latest developments in the import and export trade, with the older gentleman seated to his left.

  Who cared where the silks came from, as long as they were pretty and soft? As long as they ended up encasing her lithesome body in the latest fashions, what did it matter the cost of tariffs and such? Men could be such bores.

  Yet she sensed something in his indifference. It seemed to be calculated rather than simple disinterest. Had it been her imagination, or had she seen him glance at her that afternoon, as she sat sipping tea in the garden?

  He had been trudging up the rear lawns with her brother, guns slung over their shoulders, the hounds barking and running beside them. She was sitting alone, and when she turned to look at them she could have sworn he was staring right at her. But it was only fleeting; she may have been mistaken.

  Then there were his boots! After their shoot they were the muddiest boots she had ever seen. Smithy, the footman, would have fun getting those off his feet, let alone clean again, she had thought.

  When she finished her afternoon tea, and was sure no one was looking, she had secretly gone to the back door, opened it quietly, and peered in at those muddy boots of his. They were black and hefty, the kind of boots a true adventurer would own. They were encased in crusty mud, waiting to be cleaned. Then she sighed, glad it would not be her job to do such a thing. A girl of her station getting her dainty hands all dirty? Good heavens, no! That would never do!

  The sound of the bedroom door opening startled her, breaking her reverie. It was Grace, though why she was called Grace was beyond Elizabeth. To her eyes grace was a quality the girl most certainly did not possess. If she were any clumsier the girl would have to carry around a mop and bucket twenty-four hours a day.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked impatiently, wanting to return to her thoughts of the day, and Lord Michael. The mysterious Lord Michael.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss Elizabeth,’ said the maid. ‘I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything before I went to bed.’

  ‘No, nothing,’ she replied, waving the girl away with a flick of her hand.

  Grace curtsied, somewhat red-faced. She knew if she hadn’t checked in with her mistress she would surely have been scolded for it the next day, but now she sensed she was in trouble for disturbing her. She sighed. There was certainly no winning with Miss Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth snuggled more deeply under the covers. She wished she’d had a bath before retiring. Bother! Grace should have drawn one for her, irrespective of whether she’d asked her to or not. She would have to counsel her in the morning. Yes, a bath was to be waiting for her and it was for the maid to anticipate when it was to be so, and if she didn’t want one, so be it. At least it would be ready, just in case.

  She also had to remind Grace to bring some more oil of jasmine. She was running low, and she certainly wasn’t about to take an unscented bath.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. The sheets were cool and comfortable. She insisted they be changed every three days. She let her head sink into the soft feather pillows,
and let her mind revisit the dashing Lord Michael.

  Tall, but not too tall, and he stood so straight and handsome, brimming with confidence and surety. Hmmm. She had allowed one or two suitors to kiss her when she felt so inclined, but they were generally such bumblers. She could only imagine what it would feel like to be swept up in the arms of Lord Michael.

  She willed herself to sleep, then suddenly realised she had failed to dim the lamp by the door.

  ‘Bother!’ she cursed again, angrily. ‘Bother, bother, bother! I’m all comfortable and cosy now. I don’t want to get out of bed.’

  She reached over, pulling a cord hanging at the side of her bed.

  Upstairs, in a room not much bigger than Elizabeth’s bed, a copper bell jangled above Grace’s head. She had just finished saying her nightly prayers, and was in her plain cotton nightdress, but the bell summoning her meant she had to quickly change back into her black dress and white apron, and fix her cap. She would never dare let herself be seen otherwise attired.

  Hurriedly she did so, not wanting to keep Miss Elizabeth waiting, fearful of the temper she possessed when kept waiting. Once changed, she ran down the narrow staircase.

  ‘What kept you so long?’ Elizabeth demanded irritably, as Grace gingerly opened the door.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Elizabeth, I was already dressed for bed,’ the maid said humbly.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she snapped testily. ‘Turn out the light by the door, and in the morning remind me to tell you about my new bath routine.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  Grace wasn’t surprised her mistress had called her back down for such a small matter. She was used to Elizabeth’s spoiled and arrogant manner, and suffered it because she was desperate for the employment. She extinguished the light, and quietly left the darkened room.

  As Elizabeth settled down again, eyes closed, pictures of the dashing Lord Michael played in her head, she imagined herself dressed in the finest of clothes, on Lord Michael’s arm, attending splendid society parties in London, everyone oohing and aahing over what a truly splendid couple they made. The love shining from his eyes as he looked at her, kissing her hand every time he went to get her yet another glass of champagne, more than willing to be at her beck and call…

  Something’s wrong, a voice in her dreamy head warned, but she let it go, drifting off, filled with visions of what she was sure would be her happy ending.

  Chapter 2

  The following morning, after a full and peaceful night’s sleep, Elizabeth studied herself in the mirror. There was a soft glow to her complexion, her green eyes were sparkling with mischief and merriment, and she was full of expectation. For some reason she was sure that at some point during the weekend she would find herself in Lord Michael’s embrace for the first time, her breasts rising and falling with the insistent, passionate pounding of her heart.

  She had selected a pretty pink dress. It emphasised her shapely figure, and highlighted the perfection of her lily-white skin. She had Grace brush her hair until it was smooth and shining lustrously, and style it in a loose, casual manner. The natural curl caused it to cascade around her shoulders. With a hint of rouge on her cheeks and lips, she was as attractive as she could possibly be.

  She pulled on a pair of dainty pink shoes that peeked out cheekily from the hem of her dress, allowing just the smallest amount of white stocking to show, and with a last look in the mirror she felt ready to face the day, and the unfathomable Lord Michael.

  As she moved to leave her bedroom Grace interrupted her thoughts. ‘You wanted to tell me something about your bath, miss?’ she prompted, clearly relieved that her young mistress was in such a good mood.

  ‘Oh, yes, see me in the sitting room after breakfast,’ Elizabeth said, and glided out of the room and down the stairs, hearing the sound of Lord Michael’s dulcet tones in the dining room, and what she overheard both surprised and delighted her.

  ‘Yes, yes. It is a jolly shame. Still, it cannot be helped.’

  It was her father. She paused, waiting to hear more. The naughty side of her loved eavesdropping. She had overheard all sorts of juicy things by being quiet and careful.

  ‘I’m very grateful to you sir, what with her mother away,’ her father was continuing. ‘She’s quite a handful, that young lady, quite a handful indeed. From my experience it’s best not to leave her alone here. Especially with all the chaps that are want to drop by. I am very grateful to you for staying, I must say. Very grateful indeed.’

  She could just imagine her father, twirling the ends of his great moustache. She loved him dearly, but the poor man didn’t have a clue. He was so easy to twist around her manipulative finger. She could usually get what she wanted from him just by lowering her head and allowing a single tear to trickle down her cheek. She giggled a little, amused by her own cleverness.

  ‘Is that you, my dear?’

  Darn! He had heard her.

  ‘Yes, father,’ she called in her sweetest, most musical voice. She continued down the stairs and entered the dining room.

  ‘Good morning everyone,’ she said gaily, flashing Lord Michael her cheeriest smile. He nodded to her, a slight curl raising the corners of his mouth, although it was barely a smile at all, and he went immediately back to eating his breakfast.

  She pretended not to notice his aloof manner, and addressed her father again. ‘Did I hear you say something, father, about chaps dropping by?’ she said, waving her hand, hoping the words would not be lost on Lord Michael. ‘I honestly don’t know what to do with all these admirers I seem to have acquired.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he blustered. ‘Well I’m afraid something’s come up in London, my dear, and James and I must attend to it at once. So as your mother’s visiting your aunt I have asked Lord Michael to stay here, to keep an eye on things for me. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here, but we’ll be back late tomorrow afternoon and in the meantime you’ll be in safe hands.’

  She suppressed a squeal of joy, but managed to say, very coolly indeed, she thought, ‘How kind of you to put yourself out so, Lord Michael. I shall do my best to make sure you are properly and suitably entertained. Though I shan’t be trudging across muddy fields with you, like silly old James would.’

  Her brother glowered at her. ‘Really, Elizabeth,’ he responded irritably. ‘We’re sportsmen. You couldn’t possibly understand.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t, nor would I want to, so there,’ she countered. ‘I don’t see any fun in getting all dirty. I will find much finer and more dignified ways to entertain our esteemed guest.’

  She looked over at Lord Michael, and to her shock he looked right back at her, an eyebrow arched in what she thought was quite a suggestive manner – though suggestive of what, she had absolutely no idea.

  ‘We shall see who entertains who, and how, won’t we Elizabeth?’ he stated confidently, and she felt herself blushing, immediately looking away.

  ‘I say,’ James chuckled, ‘it looks like you might have met your match there, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Oh, James,’ she scoffed, gathering her wits again. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sure Lord Michael means that he intends to entertain me, in return for my entertaining him. Isn’t that so, Lord Michael?’

  ‘Yes, Elizabeth,’ he said quietly but firmly, ‘that is exactly what I mean.’

  ‘We really must be going if we plan to be in London before lunch,’ her father said, ignoring the trivial spat between his offspring; he had long since learned to pay no heed to such things. ‘Thank you again, my dear friend,’ he said to the assured gentleman. ‘I am in your debt, sir.’

  ‘My pleasure, I’m sure,’ Lord Michael said smoothly. ‘I will see you tomorrow. Do not worry about a thing. Your dutiful daughter will be well taken care of.’

  Something in the tone of his voice made Elizabeth feel uneasy as her father and brother rose from the table, leaving the two of them alone. There absence for a day was much, much more than she could ever have h
oped for, but as they proceeded to finish breakfast the atmosphere was strained. Lord Michael’s monosyllabic responses to Elizabeth’s attempts at conversation were frustrating her, to say the least, and she was relieved when the meal came to an end.

  She excused herself and disappeared into the sitting room. She needed to compose herself. He was certainly most different to any man she had ever encountered. Normally such indifferent behaviour would see her put the gentleman directly in his place, but Lord Michael had the unmistakable aura of someone not to be trifled with.

  Then she heard her name being called; her father and brother were about to leave, so she hurried out to the front porch and found herself standing next to Lord Michael, waving goodbye to dear old pater and her bothersome brother. Whilst she couldn’t have been happier with the prospect of spending the next thirty-six hours with Lord Michael, she couldn’t ignore the sense of uncertain discomfort permeating her being.

  She and her handsome guest walked slowly back into the house, and she was trying to think of something witty and smart to say when Grace appeared.

  ‘You want to see me in the sitting room now, miss?’ she asked reverently.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be along shortly,’ Elizabeth replied, rather abruptly. ‘Go and wait for me there.’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ Grace replied, then curtsied.

  ‘What a charming girl,’ Lord Michael said admiringly as she walked away. ‘So polite and well mannered. As a young woman should be, don’t you think?’ He stared into Elizabeth’s eyes, once again causing a deep red blush to rise in her cheeks.

  ‘It’s only because I’ve trained her so well,’ Elizabeth stated haughtily, attempting to ignore the fact that she was continuing to redden under his unwavering gaze.