~  Sunday Jan 3, 1813  ~

The chronicle afforded extra space to report the events of the previous evening's boxing match. While I was disappointed to learn the captain had lost his battle, the article continued past the sporting exploits to describe an unexpected performance by the Duke of Norfolk's companion, Mistress Rosalind Hayes, who fainted dead away at the first sight of blood. The reporter went on to recommend the courtesan stick to what she knows; seeking her thrills in the bedroom rather than a boxing arena.

It took a full hour to find my wits after that. And I spent most of it debating whether I felt insulted or flattered the reporter had taken the time to research me and offer an accurate narrative. After all, a courtesan asserted more equitable repute than a mistress or a prostitute. Truthfully, what concerned me more was the duke's response, and I almost felt sorry for the reporter at pressing his journalistic advantage. Certainly, he had only considered the reaction of the readers and not the reaction of the duke.

Leaving the rest of the paper for a leisurely afternoon read, I prepared for church and caught a coach to the parish of Reverend Lawtey, my dear friend and benefactor, although ours was an unusual agreement. The sermon covered topics like fresh beginnings and opening our minds to new ideas. The world was changing fast. And, apparently, our souls needed to be prepared.

I had just returned home and sat to finish my reading when Tilda appeared at the parlor curtain, announcing a visitor. "Captain Jules Thompson to see you, Mistress. Should I tell him to return at a more..." She paused a moment, undoubtedly searching for the right word. "...opportune time?"

I thought it serendipitous the captain chose that time to call on me. I had been thinking about him all morning. "No, Tilda. You can show him. And bring some tea. However, be sure his visit does not overlap with Mister Morrisey's."

"Aye, Mistress. That would be most...discourteous."

Looking pleased with herself, Tilda trundled away, and I could not contain my smile. Discourteous was not the word I would have used. Mutinous. Disobedient. Hazardous. Now, those were words that fit the situation better. I was still wearing a grin when the captain entered the parlor, although he only made it as far as the curtain.

"I beg your pardon for my unannounced visit, Mistress Hayes." The captain's grimace gave away his current physical state, a consequence of the previous night's events, no doubt. And his chest pushed the boundaries of his naval jacket where his shoulder had been thickly bandaged. "Please, tell me you have recovered yourself since the unfortunate incident at the arena last evening. Alice insisted we not wait for a bellman to enquire."

"Alice knows of the incident?" A strong feeling of guilt overcame me as I bit my lower lip.

"She made enquiries at breakfast after taking in my current state. The papers offered the rest."

The captain remained as stiff as a statue as I took in his state; swollen lips, an irregular purple bruise around his left eye, and a distinctive hunch despite his attempt to stand rigid.

"I am as well as can be expected," I said, ignoring the lingering sting between my legs from the escapades that took place after the duke and I returned from the fight. "I believe my pride took the harder fall. The question here is, how are you feeling, Captain?"

"Oh, this...?" He circled his finger around his face as he attempted a smirk through battered lips. "Tis nothing a few days of rest won't cure."

I tsked as I shook my head. "Please, Captain Thompson. Have a seat. I have called for tea. You fought a valiant battle, from what I saw of it. I am sorry to hear you lost in the end."

The captain's expression remained sure as he engaged me without budging from his position at the velvet drapes. "I did not expect to win. One defeat of many, I am certain."

"So, you plan to continue your...exploits in the boxing arena?"

"Certainly. Why wouldn't I? I did not spend fourteen months studying with a champion to throw in the towel after one loss."

"Tell me, then... Why is it you have chosen this sport, in particular, when there are a number of lively endeavors for a young, strapping gentleman."

I made an effort to keep my eyes focused on the captain's face and not allow them to trace the  contours exaggerating the fit of his jacket. Based on the subtle twitch of his lips, I feared he may have seen through my guise.

"If you had met my father, you would have no need to ask. The admiral is a large man with a large temper. As a boy, I was forced to engage in punishing battles with him because he refused to raise a dandy."

"Is that so? I would not have guessed, based on your prior description of him."

"The admiral's weaknesses are only apparent to those closest to him. My sister and I have never spoken of it. Although our mother did, on occasion."

"Do you believe you would have pursued boxing had it not been for your father's harsh manner, then?"

"I do find satisfaction in the sport, but I cannot say I would have chosen it otherwise."

Tea arrived, forcing the captain into a wingback, and when Tilda mentioned the approaching arrival of Mister Morrisey, I stifled a scowl. How had I let that slip my mind so easily? Not wishing to come off as a rude hostess, I served the captain and continued our pleasant banter.

"How long do you plan to remain at your family's home, Captain?"

"Until my sister is married. I am her only chaperone. She has a goodly number of ball invitations this winter. I just hope her overzealous manner does not frighten off potential suitors. She's as smart as a whip."

"I did notice her taking the lead during the parlor games. I believe she will make any young man a spirited and engaging companion."

"That she will, but not all men are prepared for such spirit from their wife. A courtesan, maybe."

That bold, self-assurance never left him as he flouted his presumption about the women in my profession. Was he challenging me to refute his observation? Did he expect me to explain that my benefactors enjoyed more than playtime in the bedroom? Perhaps, his knowledge of the profession would improve if he took part in it.

"I wonder... Does your knowledge of courtesans and their spirited nature come from personal experience? Based on our conversations at my gala, you left me to believe you had spent little to no time in the company of a courtesan."

A slow smile crept onto his face, prompting a strange flutter beneath my stay, and I took a restorative sip of tea.

"I believe I spoke out of turn, Mistress Hayes. I suppose my knowledge comes from a singular experience. That one being at your gala."

"I see. I'm curious, Captain. Does your father know it was a courtesan who hosted the gala you escorted your sister to two nights ago?"

He maintained a calm façade while contemplating my inquiry, giving away his distress in the stiff set of his lips. "No. The admiral knows very little of what goes on around him these days. Alice and I are at a loss for how to bring him back, short of faking..."

His lips tightened further, as if he had been gagged.

"Short of faking what?" I pressed.

"It's just some ridiculous idea Alice has been entertaining."

"Every idea has merit simply in the nature of it being an idea. At the very least, I can offer an outsider's opinion."

His eyes held a twinkle of fascination, like he was stuck for an explanation to something that amused him. 

Tilda cleared her throat outside the curtain, and her face appeared a moment later. "Mistress Hayes. Your visitor's coach has just arrived."

"Oh, dear. Where has the time gone?" I set my teacup down, hoping the tremor in my hand did not give away my anxiety. Mister Morrisey was a tall, robust man, and rumoured to be a demanding employer. It certainly carried over into the bedroom. He also liked to pretend he was my only benefactor. After learning this, I had made it a point to see that his visits never overlapped with another.

"Something wrong, Mistress Hayes?" The captain posed his question carefully, leaning toward me to set his teacup on the tray. As he did, an entirely different sort of tremor overtook me.

"Well... My, but this is awkward. A benefactor of mine is just outside, and he can become distressed when another gentleman is attending me when he arrives. Did you leave a carriage waiting on the street?"

"No. It so happens that our homes are but a brisk walk in distance."

"I see. Well..." I swallowed, cursing my recklessness. "I wonder if it would put you out too terribly if my maid escorted you to the servant's entrance."

After a brief attempt to restrain himself, the captain laughed loudly. "Are you certain you wouldn't like me to greet him at the door? I could claim I am your new manservant." His laughter continued despite the grimace he wore. Surely, his wounds were protesting as he amused himself at my expense.

"Really, Captain Thompson. I thought you a gentleman."

"And that is why you have asked me to leave by the back door?" His laughter continued unabated.

"Is there something you might fancy as an enticement?" I made the offer with the utmost decorum, but when his laughter abruptly stopped, I realized how the proposition must have sounded to his ears. It was never appropriate for a courtesan to offer herself in such a manner. "Something I can do for your family, perhaps?" I added quickly.

Jules pressed a hand to his side as he recovered himself. "I hadn't believed it before, but your reputation as a scrupulous woman precedes you. I suppose you could offer to chaperone Alice to her next ball. It competes with a match I had hoped to participate in."

"I would be happy to. Just send round the details. Where did you hear that I was scrupulous?"

"Alice. As you already know, she and our mother were involved in Reverend Lawtey's parish. Apparently, he spoke highly of you."

If my cheeks could have reddened more, there was no way of knowing, so I stopped trying. "Oh? Well, the reverend is a dear man. Very respectful."

"I'm sure he is."

A knock came at the door, and Tilda startled as if she had not anticipated it, having been absorbed with our exchange from the entry. Captain Thompson worked diligently to contain a smirk as he ushered me into the foyer. Once there, he appeared to struggle with an internal battle as he stared at me without reserve. "Thank you for attending me, Rose. I suppose I will not see you at the next boxing match."

It took me a moment to register his words, as I was too struck by his use of my given name. "Erm... Although it has been recommended that I attend another match to bolster my constitution, I would prefer to meet under less brutal circumstances."

"Perhaps you could accompany me on a trip to the country for game bird hunting. We can test your constitution on bloodletting of the non-human sort."

The captain did not appear to be mocking me as he made his offer, and I glanced between him and my maid, who waited to greet Mister Morrisey at the door. "Yes. I would be happy to accompany you on such a trip. Now, let me see you out personally." 

I offered my brisk reply as I escorted the captain away from the foyer and into the kitchen, where Clara and Douglas made preparations for the evening meal. Their eyes went wide as they watched me hurry the captain to the servant's entrance like a common harlot. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being, Captain Thompson. And I enjoyed our chat."

"As did I. Until next time, then." He left with no attempt to take my hand, which he didn't seem to consider a necessary protocol. I rushed back through the kitchen, straightening my dress and ignoring the stares of my staff as I entered the foyer in a calm fashion.

Tilda was just leaving the parlor, carrying away the tea tray, and she lowered her gaze as we met. "Mister Morrisey is waiting for you, Mistress Hayes. He appears to be in a mood today."

"Oh, dear. Do you suppose he suspects I was not alone when he arrived?"

"I cannot be sure, but I'm afraid I had no time to remove the tea tray before seeing him to the parlor. I am terribly sorry, Mistress."

"Blast and bother," I exclaimed under my breath, setting a gentle hand on my maid's trembling shoulder. "Tis not your fault, Tilda. I allowed myself to become distracted with the captain and shall be the one to accept the consequences. A rub with rose liniment may be necessary after our Mister Morrisey leaves."

"Aye, Mistress."

I stood outside the parlor, watching Tilda shuffle away under burdened shoulders. I had been graced with a dutiful staff, and I felt I had done the dear girl a disservice today by placing her in an awkward circumstance. That would be rectified as soon as time permitted. At present, I had a disgruntled benefactor to appease. I planted an eager smile on my face and entered through the thick curtain.

"Pleasant day to you, Mister Morrisey. I seems well over a fortnight since I've been in your company, and I have missed seeing you." The compliment rolled over my tongue like a sweet cherry cordial, and I augmented it with a deep curtsy, leaning forward enough to give him an unhindered view of my cleavage.

The mustache he kept above his lip bristled as he eyed my voluptuous décolletage. Based on the scowl he'd been wearing when I entered the room and the fact that a sly lift of his brows had replaced it, I had potentially saved myself a tongue lashing. "Pleasant day to you, as well, Rosalind. You are looking well. In fact, you're practically glowing." He came to stand quite close, forcing me to cock my head back to maintain visual contact with his eyes, which were very dark, and some would say, rather dangerous.

"I wonder if there is something, or someone, responsible for the healthy flush currently colouring your cheeks." He offered a pointed look at the table where the tea tray had sat during my visit with Captain Thompson, and I tried to suppress the heat rushing to my face as I took his large hand in both of mine.

"Forgive me. Just before your arrival, I had an unexpected visit from a chaperone to speak about my gala two evenings ago. I am sure the visit would have been much less pleasant had it not been for the gas lamp you so thoughtfully donated to the household. If you received my missive, then you know how grateful I am to you. And, now, I am quite prepared to give you my full attention."

I lowered my chin, letting only my gaze reach his face, and he tugged his hand from my grasp, using it to lift my chin again. "I must admit, I had my heart set on seeing you suffer through a torturous inquisition. But lust always seems to take over my thoughts when I am around you."

"Isn't that what I am here for? To take your mind off your thoughts?" I slipped my arm through his elbow and tugged him toward the foyer. "Come along. Let us see what we can do to soothe that anxious mind of yours."

I engaged Mister Morrisey in pleasantries as we made the trip to my boudoir, hoping to distract him from the care I took with each stair. As was standard, I complimented him on his fine appearance and the way he carried himself like a nimble youth. Truth be told, his sculptured musculature belied his true age, which I knew to be just shy of forty-three. I barely had time to close the door to my chambers before he had his jacket off and his hands on my waist.

He lowered his mouth to my neck, kissing me roughly as he fumbled with the buttons at the back of my dress. "You are the most sensual creature in London. And I have tasted my share." He breathed in deeply, exhaling more flattery. "No other woman wears your scent. It bewitches me."

It certainly would not be proper to explain that my dear Mister Faircloth purchased the parfum expressly for me, but I relished in the compliment, allowing my benefactor to have his wicked way with me. When my bodice had been loosened, he dived between my bosom, using his tongue to sample the fragrance further. I expected it made his tongue sting a bit, but he seemed to be enjoying himself either way, based on the strength of his manhood pressed against my thigh. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being desired by a virile man, and Mister Morrisey, through all his faults, had virility in abundance.

Today, however, I busied myself with coming up with ways to save my lady parts from becoming ferociously ravaged. Mister Morrisey rarely felt sated after just one release, and if I was reading him properly, he could achieve his first without much trouble on my part. By the time he had my clothing fully dispatched and lying at my feet, I whispered in his ear as he suckled my breast.

"You have me so very needy. Would you allow me to undress you and have my way?"

When his eyes met mine, they could have scorched me had they burned with true flame, and a low rumble echoed from his throat. "Is this some wicked game you wish to play? You know what your touch does to me."

I let my lashes flutter ever so slowly, leaving them hooded as I gazed into his eyes. "Do you think you are the only one who appreciates the naked form, Mister Morrisey? Do you not realize that every time you touch me, I feel as if my body is on fire. And when you take my breasts into your mouth, I wish to do the same with your manhood? If that is a wicked game, then I desperately hope you wish to play."

With a gentle hand, I brushed his cheek where his sideburns grew thick, and I leaned in to kiss the corner of his lips, lingering only a moment before pulling away. Mouth kissing stayed mostly off the table with my benefactors, as I felt it too intimate, but the small gesture could move a session along when circumstances required it, like inflamed nether regions.

The heat burning in his eyes intensified, and I worried, for a moment, that he might punish me for pressing my advantage. He was a clever man and never took the subordinate role, but he surprised me by stepping back and holding out his arms in a submissive gesture. "Do with me as you will, Rosalind. But I will not be held responsible for the consequences once my trousers are off."

The words left his mouth like a threat, and I tried to hide the shiver that overtook me as I reached out to unbutton his shirt. In my quest to save my lady parts, I may have doomed them instead. But there was still hope, and I took my time removing each article of clothing from his body. All the while, he watched me like a bird of prey, a rumble building inside his chest as if he had swallowed a thunderstorm. And when I knelt to pull his undergarments off, he held me there with a firm hand.

When I looked up at him, I noticed a dark flush in his cheeks, and an even darker expression in his eyes. Mister Morrisey grabbed his manhood, which stood rigid as a ship's mast in front of my face, and he began to stroke himself.

"Is this the object of your desire?" he crooned in a singsong voice, although restraint played on his lips as he stared down at me.

"Yes." I squeaked out my reply, hoping my innocent demeanor would earn his sympathy.

"And do you remember what I said when we first made our accord?"

I swallowed as he forced me to recall our initial agreement, something I had failed to consider when I attempted to turn the tide in my favor. "Yes."

His face bloomed a deeper shade of crimson, along with his manhood, as he continued masturbating just inches from my mouth. "Repeat it for me now."

With a sense of dread and a stuttering breath, I retreated to the role of submissive courtesan as I obliged him. "As my benefactor, you are always in charge. Any attempt, on my part, to willfully seduce or otherwise incite your climax without your instruction will not be tolerated."

A smile crept onto his lips, both satisfied and devious. "You forgot yourself today, didn't you, Rosalind?" He waited for me to nod obediently as his breathing became more laboured. "Yes, you did. But I will not force you to tell me what may have caused such an oversight. I do not want to sully our exchange. I will only ask you to open your mouth and close your eyes, so I may give you a pleasant surprise."

I did as he asked, knowing full well what his surprise would be and turning my focus to the sound of his fist pumping across his manhood. I tried desperately not to tense as the anticipation grew. I wanted him to know I was a woman who could take as much as he could give. And when the warm liquid splashed across my face and flooded into my mouth, I held my position on the floor until his moans of pleasure had abated.

I remained there with my eyes shut and listened to his footsteps as he retreated to the cabinet to fetch a cloth. When he returned, he knelt before me and tenderly wiped my skin while I dutifully held his semen in my mouth. When he had finished cleaning my face, he held the cloth to my chin, and I spat into it. Still holding my position, he discarded the cloth and brought me a cup of water. When I had taken my fill, he helped me off the floor with a gentle hand.

When our eyes met, he offered me a smile that could have come from a devoted husband or a smitten betrothed. "I have never known a woman like you, Rosalind, and I do not plan to let you go for such a minor grievance. Now, let us see what other trouble we can get you into."

He took my hand and tugged me toward the bed, and while I had never been terribly fond of being sprayed in the face with a man's ejaculate, I had to count the minor grievance as a victory on my part. One battle down. One to go.