Freya North - Rumours

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2012

Copyright © Freya North 2012

Freya North asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Source ISBN: 9780007326709

Ebook Edition © June 2012 ISBN: 9780007326723

Version: 2017-11-28

FIRST EDITION

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

For Daddy

… to misquote Bobby – thank you for holding steady my ladder to the stars, for teaching me how to be righteous and true, for helping me to stand upright, to feel strong and to be courageous.

Thanks to you, my heart’s joyful – and it’s your song I’ll always sing.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Copyright This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher. Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2012 Copyright © Freya North 2012 Freya North asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Source ISBN: 9780007326709 Ebook Edition © June 2012 ISBN: 9780007326723 Version: 2017-11-28 FIRST EDITION All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Dedication For Daddy … to misquote Bobby – thank you for holding steady my ladder to the stars, for teaching me how to be righteous and true, for helping me to stand upright, to feel strong and to be courageous. Thanks to you, my heart’s joyful – and it’s your song I’ll always sing.

Prologue: March 1790

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Acclaim for Freya

Also by Freya North

Spend some time with Freya

About the Publisher

Lord Frederick Makepeace William Fortescue, Earl of Barbary, ran his hands over the undulations of Molly’s naked body, admiring the sight and relishing in the silky feel of her much as he did his favourite horse, Jepson. It gave him enormous pleasure, not in a carnal way, but for the sense of ownership. He loved to gaze, to feel, to assess what he had before he rode – either horse or woman – the delicious anticipation of how the external beauty brought with it the promise of such sublime physical rewards. He bucked into Molly hard, much as Jepson bucked after jumping a stile. Excited, he rode her energetically to the finish.

‘My dear,’ he said, ‘though I would spend all afternoon with you, Lady Fortescue is shortly to return from Bath – and it would not do for your mistress to find you in my bed.’ He slapped Molly’s bottom and resisted the temptation to call it a fine rump. ‘Out,’ he laughed, letting his hand linger and wander, before he gave her another hearty wallop which made her giggle lasciviously and climb aboard again. ‘Off!’ he said. ‘Away!’

Molly gave him a reproachful look that was as beguiling as it was coy. ‘As you ask, My Lord,’ she said, emphasizing the ‘Lord’ in such a way that it warranted a further slap on her buttocks. He watched her dress. She was turned away from him – not from any shyness, but actually because after the act itself she no longer wanted to see his corpulent body sprawled inelegantly wasted. She felt that fornication, especially of the illicit type, was rather like gorging oneself when starving hungry. Once sated, the very sight of leftovers was repellent. Lord Fortescue didn’t know this, of course. He thought it was a charming reversion of Molly from strumpet to servant; from a writhing, panting horny filly – unbridled, dirty and insatiable – to humble and reverent and back in her place. He wasn’t aware how the extra coins he gave her provided her with both the last laugh and her growing independence and emancipation.

‘I shall call for you,’ he said in a low growl.

‘I shall come,’ she said, all meek, just the way she knew he liked.

‘Molly Molly Molly,’ he marvelled. She gave a demure little curtsey. ‘A little something for your – exertion, a reward for your excellent fulfilment of all tasks set.’ He nodded at the occasional chair, draped with hastily strewn clothing. ‘Pocket,’ he said softly. She slipped her hand into the pocket of his breeches as if unsure what she might find and feigned surprise and delight at the lace handkerchief knotted on its bundle of coins.

‘Why, thank you, Lord Fortescue,’ she said, as if payment was an unexpected bonus.

He winked. ‘Be off now. I will ring down in a while and ask Mrs Fulford to send someone up to make the room afresh.’

‘– because you had one of your funny turns –’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Lord Fortescue. ‘Away with you now. Shoo!’

Molly paused by the door. He was a good master. Her working conditions and remuneration were above par compared with other maids she knew. And, actually, the extras he sought and paid for honourably didn’t offend her. He was rather good at it. And preferable to the fat fingers and clumsy cock of Lord Aldbury who’d had her before her move to the Fortescue household.