Anonymous - The Loves of Lord Roxboro

“Uncle,” she said, looking into his eyes as if to search the ideas that were passing in his brain, “I do not like the way that Freda is acting in front of you.”

“Why, Caroline dear,” said he, arising and walking in back of her and passing his arm around her neck and turning her face upward to implant a kiss upon the pouting lips. “My dear, I really believe that you are trying to be jealous of the little puss! My stars, are you that silly?”

“Why, the very idea!” she laughed. “I am certainly not jealous of her, yet I do not approve of the abandoned manner in which she endeavors to attract your attention in such an indelicate fashion, the little minx; she knows quite well what she is doing and it is only to excite you.”

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Freda; she again seated herself and commenced twisting her shapely legs about, legs that would have tempted a saint to implant a kiss upon their plump and perfect contours.

She looked archly at Caroline and coyly at her lascivious uncle, occasionally directing a glance at the well-filled front section of his pants, then glanced at Caroline and said, “That is a pretty dress you have on, sister; you didn't have it when we came here. Where did you get it?”

“No,” said Caroline, a twinge of malice pervading her voice. “Uncle bought it for me today, as a recompense for some little service I was fortunate enough to be able to do for him.”

“Oh, uncle, uncle!” cried Freda, turning to the old roue, and laying one of her dainty hands upon his knee. “Have you anything that I am able to perform? I would love to earn some pretty dresses like dear sister Carrie.”

“Well, perhaps, my dear,” said Lord Roxboro, patting her bare arm and pinching her rosy cheeks.

Caroline said nothing at this burst of impudence or the exchange of affections, but her eyes blazed. She rose as though to leave, but Roxboro called her back. “Why, Caroline, certainly you are not going to leave us this early?”

“I have a headache; it pains me severely; I would like to retire, if I may.”

“Oh, come, sit down,” and he waved her into a chair. She seated herself demurely and the noble lord took out one of his favorite cigars, which he lighted, exhaling a most delightful aroma of entrancing intensity.

“Girls,” he finally said, as he exhaled in that delightful fashion known only to the experienced. “Girls, I wish that you would try to get along together nicely.” Seeing that both were about to protest, he held his diamond-bedecked fingers up with a majestic gesture. “Tut, tut; no interruptions, please. I know what you are both going to say, but, girls, I can see for myself that all is not as it should be. Freda is angry because Caroline has a new dress, and Caroline is angry because-well-because-” Here he hesitated and, casting a keen glance at Caroline, finished, “-because she is angry!” He laughed uproariously at his own wit. “Now, this is absurd, girls, and decidedly foolish. I expect guests here tomorrow evening, and I am about to give a party to society in your honor. I expect both you girls to be at your best; a number of my best friends will be here. Now, away to bed, and be sure to get plenty of sleep and look your very best. Come, Caroline, and you too, Freda. Kiss your uncle good night and retire to your cozy nests.”

He then embraced Caroline and passed his arm about the soft clinging form of Freda. As she turned her soft rosebud lips to greet his, he pressed her close, crashing the warm and tender bubbies against his manly bosom; his leg pressed through her dress as he kissed her, not once but several times, and in a manner decidedly not paternal.

Finding that his prick was decidedly arising at this warm contact, he speedily arose from this unchaste embrace and directed the girls to speed to their rooms. They waved him good night from the stairs, and Freda, entering Carolina's room asked permission to inspect the latest additions to her wardrobe.

Caroline displayed to her astonished and envious gaze a batch of Madam Foullard's latest Parisian creations, of the most charming and sheerest textures, some of which were charmingly decorated in dazzling sequins and heavily embroidered in massive medallions, harmonized with the most alluring and tempting combinations of colors; rarely had Freda seen such a delectable assortment of costly and dazzling dresses, combinations, and lingerie. She went into raptures over each exquisite garment.

Caroline showed her everything except the most intimate personal garments, sensing that Freda might suspect the intimacy that had grown up between her uncle and herself.

“So uncle bought you all these beautiful dresses?” queried Freda as she surveyed the costly dresses hanging in gorgeous order in the massive wardrobe. “I wish he would buy me some; how is it that he bought all these lovely things for you the first day you are here; why didn't he buy some for me too?”

“Probably uncle considers that you are too young for all this sort of finery, at present. He may really think of you as too much of a child to have dressed like this. Why don't you ask him?”

“I am not a child,” cried Freda, vexed at Caroline's remark. “I am as grown-up as you are, and quite as much of a woman. I am over fourteen. You are only two years older than I, Caroline.”

“Ah, my little dear, but a few years makes quite a difference,” and Caroline smiled strangely.

“Oh,” cried Freda, “I know what you mean; I suppose you think I don't understand that remark. When you say I am still a child, it is nonsense. I am grown up. I have full breasts now-not as big as yours-but my legs are larger than yours and more shapely; look at my breasts!” And here she seized her tiny bubbies and squeezed them.

“Why, Freda,” gasped Caroline, as though shocked. “Oh, how can you talk that way. Really, you must not indulge in such expressions. I am horrified!”

“Oh, don't be foolish,” said Freda, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I know a lot of things that even you don't know. I know all about the things that change us and also what happens to a girl when she marries.”

“Why, Freda!” said Caroline, amazed at this display of precocity. “You little imp, where did you get all this nonsense; who has been filling your mind with such ideas?”

“Foolish ideas, nothing,” said Freda, adopting an air of childish superiority. “I learned a lot of things at school; I know where babies come from and how you get them. The doctor doesn't bring them at all; all that talk about bringing them in his satchel is just silly.”

“Why, Freda, you astonish me!” gasped Caroline, wondering just how much this little monkey really did know about the subjects she so glibly discussed.

At this moment a tap was heard on the door.

“Girls, better go to bed and get some rest; don't sit up talking all night,” came their uncle's voice.

“Yes, uncle,” replied Caroline. “Now, Freda, you had better scoot back to your own room; we will go into this another time. Good night, dear.” She kissed her younger sister and with a laugh pushed her toward the door.

In a few minutes, the house was completely dark and quiet, the occupants sunk in sleep.

And so we will leave them at the end of this first volume.

At the close of our previous volume, we left the various occupants of Roxboro Manor wrapped in slumber.

Early the following morning, Caroline was awakened by a tap upon her boudoir door. “Come in,” she called, and the door opened to admit her younger sister, who came over to her bed, kissed her good morning, and then proceeded to make herself comfortable, seating herself upon the bed beside Caroline.