Read Online The Gentlemen's Club: Volume One in the 'Noire' series by Emmanuelle de Maupassant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emmanuelle de Maupassant
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and dirty, nauseating in
its odour and habituated more often by the
beer-bloated and sodden-eyed.
She jumped up at once, making
to flee, but he grabbed her shoulder, holding her fast, so that she soon gave
up her struggle. The material of her jacket was so very coarse that he wondered
it did not make her itch. Her face
she turned from him, refusing to meet his eye, clearly unhappy that he had come
upon her so unexpectedly.
“My dear Mademoiselle,” he
began, only curiosity in his voice, and the softness of one who cares. “Do you
usually take your afternoon air dressed in this way? What can be the reason? And why must you
run from me? I had thought our acquaintance worthy of the exchange of
pleasantries.”
She shook his grip from her
shoulder but made no further attempt to flee. However, her voice was all
annoyance.
“Lord MacCaulay ,
it may come as a surprise for you to discover that some of us like to wander
London without being recognized by those with whom we have acquaintance. My
costume is surely evidence in itself that I am not taking the air as a genteel
young woman, for which I would require a chaperone. I prefer to walk alone,
being of independent mind, and if you have no further questions of me, I shall
continue.”
At this, he could not help
but laugh, since her demeanor was so earnest, and her exasperation so
child-like. She eyed him with petulance, then looked away again, obviously
irked that her fancy dress provided him with such amusement.
“Of course,” he replied,
steadying his expression now, to avoid causing more offence. “It’s an exceedingly clever idea in
fact: one I may adopt myself.”
“There is no need to mock
me,” she answered. “You are a man: to whit, there are no restrictions placed
upon you. You are free to come and go as you please; nobody will stop you.”
He saw now that there was
more to her irritation than simple annoyance at having been caught.
“How often do you adopt this
boyish identity?” he asked, his voice all seriousness.
She did not answer
immediately, considering how much of her secret to share. At last, she admitted that it had only
been her second outing, and the first had lasted but five minutes before she
had returned to the safety of her residence.
“It is perhaps not the solution
for which I had hoped,” she reflected.
“Nevertheless, the costume
suits you well young garçon ,” smiled MacCaulay .
“I am not of a mood for
jest,” she retorted, moving to walk away.
He reached out again,
detaining her once more, turning her towards him.
She looked up with defiance,
but his face was all softness, eyes smiling not only in amusement but with affection.
She raised her lips to his,
taking a kiss.
“Now I must leave you Lord MacCaulay . I’m sure you have other calls upon your time than
hob- nobbing with lowly street boys.”
She began to walk away but MacCaulay spun her about, and wrapped her in a firm
embrace, meeting her lips with sweetness, but also with urgency, as if he might
never lay eyes upon her again.
She made no effort to remove
herself, allowing his tongue to probe her mouth. Her hands moved within his
coat, lifting his shirt so that her fingers might find the bare skin of his
back.
Her touch thrilled him,
sending a jolt to his groin, but he hesitated, remembering of a sudden that
they stood in a public place – though dusk was falling, obscuring them
somewhat from view. Were someone to call an officer of the police, he would
face confinement in a cell, and likely sentencing for indecent behaviour – being found with a ‘boy’. Even were he to
bribe his way out of the mess, he might well find the story leaked to the
newspapers.
As if reading his mind, she
threw forth the challenge. “My Lord, I am a woman who likes to be kissed
– and by someone who knows how to do so. You are brave enough to accost
its odour and habituated more often by the
beer-bloated and sodden-eyed.
She jumped up at once, making
to flee, but he grabbed her shoulder, holding her fast, so that she soon gave
up her struggle. The material of her jacket was so very coarse that he wondered
it did not make her itch. Her face
she turned from him, refusing to meet his eye, clearly unhappy that he had come
upon her so unexpectedly.
“My dear Mademoiselle,” he
began, only curiosity in his voice, and the softness of one who cares. “Do you
usually take your afternoon air dressed in this way? What can be the reason? And why must you
run from me? I had thought our acquaintance worthy of the exchange of
pleasantries.”
She shook his grip from her
shoulder but made no further attempt to flee. However, her voice was all
annoyance.
“Lord MacCaulay ,
it may come as a surprise for you to discover that some of us like to wander
London without being recognized by those with whom we have acquaintance. My
costume is surely evidence in itself that I am not taking the air as a genteel
young woman, for which I would require a chaperone. I prefer to walk alone,
being of independent mind, and if you have no further questions of me, I shall
continue.”
At this, he could not help
but laugh, since her demeanor was so earnest, and her exasperation so
child-like. She eyed him with petulance, then looked away again, obviously
irked that her fancy dress provided him with such amusement.
“Of course,” he replied,
steadying his expression now, to avoid causing more offence. “It’s an exceedingly clever idea in
fact: one I may adopt myself.”
“There is no need to mock
me,” she answered. “You are a man: to whit, there are no restrictions placed
upon you. You are free to come and go as you please; nobody will stop you.”
He saw now that there was
more to her irritation than simple annoyance at having been caught.
“How often do you adopt this
boyish identity?” he asked, his voice all seriousness.
She did not answer
immediately, considering how much of her secret to share. At last, she admitted that it had only
been her second outing, and the first had lasted but five minutes before she
had returned to the safety of her residence.
“It is perhaps not the solution
for which I had hoped,” she reflected.
“Nevertheless, the costume
suits you well young garçon ,” smiled MacCaulay .
“I am not of a mood for
jest,” she retorted, moving to walk away.
He reached out again,
detaining her once more, turning her towards him.
She looked up with defiance,
but his face was all softness, eyes smiling not only in amusement but with affection.
She raised her lips to his,
taking a kiss.
“Now I must leave you Lord MacCaulay . I’m sure you have other calls upon your time than
hob- nobbing with lowly street boys.”
She began to walk away but MacCaulay spun her about, and wrapped her in a firm
embrace, meeting her lips with sweetness, but also with urgency, as if he might
never lay eyes upon her again.
She made no effort to remove
herself, allowing his tongue to probe her mouth. Her hands moved within his
coat, lifting his shirt so that her fingers might find the bare skin of his
back.
Her touch thrilled him,
sending a jolt to his groin, but he hesitated, remembering of a sudden that
they stood in a public place – though dusk was falling, obscuring them
somewhat from view. Were someone to call an officer of the police, he would
face confinement in a cell, and likely sentencing for indecent behaviour – being found with a ‘boy’. Even were he to
bribe his way out of the mess, he might well find the story leaked to the
newspapers.
As if reading his mind, she
threw forth the challenge. “My Lord, I am a woman who likes to be kissed
– and by someone who knows how to do so. You are brave enough to accost
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