Netherby Halls

“Why, James, so harsh?” She wondered if that was what had happened to him. Had he been rejected by the society he wished to enter?

“I have reason to be.” His voice was hard. “I have age on you, my dear, and experience.”

“But are not these people, or at least many of them, under your care?” she asked, surprised.

“My care? My dear girl, I am but a lowly country doctor with little other than my degree to recommend me. The ton of Bristol are looked after by a doctor whose background is exceptional, whose medical degree was taken many, many years ago, and whose name carries a connection to their own set.” He shook his head, and a short, derisive laugh escaped his lips. “But never mind. Just remember, Sassy, who they are and how they can hurt you.”

Sassy sighed but did not offer a reply. Some of what he said made sense to her. She had seen people of consequence thoughtlessly hurt people of a lesser standing. But she wasn’t in a position to worry about that sort of thing. After all, she was a tutor at Netherby Halls and would not forget that in her dealings with the heady gentry.

On top of this was the fact that something very odd, perhaps even sinister, was going on at Netherby, though she hadn’t any idea what it could be. This thought reminded her that she needed to catch Delia alone and have a talk that just might enlighten her.

Her thoughts drifted through her mind until they drifted away. She fell asleep, deeply, soundly …

And then, she was awake, or was she?

He, the marquis, was there, in her room—her room at Netherby. She must be asleep. This had to be a dream, but it felt so real. He stood there before her, but how could that be?

Gloriously naked, with his manhood at full attention, the marquis was bent now over the side of her bed as he whispered her name. His eyes were deep blue and full with his desire.

Trembling, she could only stare.

Starving, her mind told her she was starving for his touch—and as he came to her, she didn’t ask how or why; she simply accepted it as a dream.

Her lips curved into a welcoming smile without her consent. She knew that, beneath the covers, she was also naked.

He lifted the covers high and stood to gaze at her long and soulfully, as though he was in a desert thirsting and had found sweet, cool water at last.

He climbed into the bed beside her. His body fit against hers tightly, as it was but a single bed and he was a large man.

Her body burned for him. She told herself she was dreaming. She was safe, because it was only a dream, but in her heart she knew it was more, so much more.

His kisses traveled from her ear down the side of her neck, to the hollow of her neck, and then back up to her mouth. He parted her lips to receive his delicious tongue, and she squirmed in his arms, wanting more, so much more. How could she know what it would feel like to be made love to in this way? She had been kissed when she was younger, but never like this.

His kisses took her breath away, and when he straddled her, her eyes opened wide. He didn’t speak. She didn’t speak. It was a time of sensation—so much sensation.

What was happening to her? And then she suddenly realized, this was not a dream, This was magic taking control, drawing her inside, but it wasn’t her magic. Oh no, this was … this was …

She awoke with a start, and he was gone. She knew somehow he had been in bed with her. The bed where he had lain next to her was warm. The scent of him was still in the air.

What, oh faith, what did this mean?

* * *

Sunlight peeped through the middle of the window where Sassy’s drapes did not quite meet, and she scrunched up her face as she looked at the wall clock. “Ugh … six o’clock,” she said out loud.

It wasn’t long before she was washed and dressed. Heading for the kitchen for some coffee, she heard a commotion in the student’s wing.

The girls were getting ready for their outing to the theater later that day, but an argument between two of them had called each of the disputants’ cronies into choosing sides.

Sassy stopped and watched, hoping it was something the girls could settle between themselves, but a violent exchange of insults erupted with one of the girls pushing the other roughly into the wall. Sassy moved towards them, but before she was able to intercede, it got worse.

“Damn your eyes, wench!” Delia Standish shocked Sassy as she kept her arms extended and her hands pointing for each to take their corners.

“And yours, you—you blubber-headed mort!” returned her opponent, Caroline Hughes.

“Quiet!” Sassy ordered. “What sort of language is that?”

The two girls looked at their feet and said nothing to this, but Sassy wasn’t letting go. “Well?” she demanded.