Joy filled her at the prospect of story time. She loved spending time in Papa’s big library while he worked at his desk, but even more so when he gathered her on his lap in the huge chair in the corner of the expansive room to read to her. Just like a papa might read a story to his special little girl.
“That all sounds very nice, Papa.” She smiled up at him as warmth spread throughout her, a giddy happiness unlike anything she’d ever known. It seemed every day with Papa was better than the one before. He grasped her hand and led her into her room, where a steaming bath was waiting. There were no signs of the servants, as Papa always liked to be the one to bathe her, and no one, not even the doting Mrs. Hennely, tried to interfere with his methods.
“Into the bath with you, little girl,” he said, lifting her up and then placing her down into the warm water. She sighed with pleasure as the heat enveloped her, soothing her muscles and sending her into a relaxed state. For a few moments, she forgot about the throbbing between her legs. However, as soon as Papa started scrubbing her arms and then moved to her thighs, her urgency returned and she gave him a pleading look, hoping he would understand and make the aching go away.
Grayson worked the washcloth all over his sweet little girl’s body, but purposely avoided her privates. For now. Maybe it made him a bastard, but he enjoyed watching her discomfort as she struggled to keep from squirming her bottom against the tub and keep her hands away from her kitty. The dark pink tips of her bosom had hardened, and she started to breath rather heavily as her blue eyes darkened with increasing need. When he ran the cloth along her inner thighs, she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a whimper.
“Oh Papa, I’ll do anything if you’ll just touch my kitty. Please.”
Though he’d planned to torment her for longer, he found he couldn’t deny her. It pleased him that wearing the plug had gotten her so excited, and his shaft lurched in his trousers, knowing he would soon claim that tight, puckering hole of hers.
“Get on your hands and knees, little girl.”
The water sloshed as she scrambled to get into the proper position. She lifted her bottom high out of the water and parted her legs, giving him access to her smooth glimmering folds. Rivulets of soapy water ran down the petals of her quim, and he gently traced every little crevice of her privates while she trembled and released the softest, sweetest whimpers. She had the loveliest little cunny, pink and swollen with need. He sought out her clitty and massaged it until she began jerking her hips and moaning.
He trailed his other hand along her wet bottom, still slightly reddened from the quick spanking he’d given her for humping the edge of the bed while wearing the plug. Then he pressed two fingers to her little arsehole and slid them inside before resuming his fondling of her protruding nubbin.
“Papa wants you to come with your bottom hole filled up. Do you think you can do that, little girl?”
“Oh, Papa, I…” Her voice trailed off. She shut her eyes as a look of intense concentration came over her. She gyrated her center against his hand and cried out as she quickly reached the apex of her desire.
“Good girl, Cynny. Very good girl.”
Cynny stared into her closet, stunned at all the new dresses that hung on racks. She glanced over her shoulder at Papa.
“Where did all these come from?”
He smiled. “I sent word to Debenham’s, as well as a few other shops, asking them to deliver as many readymade gowns as they could manage, along with shoes, several hats, nightdresses, undergarments, and stockings. However, some of this might not fit you precisely, and we have an appointment at Debenham’s on Friday for you to be measured. You will have a custom wardrobe fit for a lady. I intend to take you to balls and show you off in society soon. Word of our marriage has gotten out and we’ve received several invitations to social occasions.”
“But Papa, what will you tell people about me? I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to tell your peers that I came from Talcott House. What if they ask more questions?” Panic raced through her. Though she’d been educated as a lady during her four years at Talcott House—she could read, write, sing, play the piano, engage in lively but refined conversation, and even recite poetry, in addition to the finer details of managing a household, but she hadn’t quite considered how she might present herself while out in society. Worry curled in the pit of her stomach. What if Papa’s friends didn’t like her or thought her lesser for not being born with a title?
“I will not mention Talcott House, darling. I agree that might raise questions neither of us are prepared to answer. In addition, I don’t believe Miss Wickersham would appreciate the extra attention that might come from speaking openly about her unique establishment.”
Cynny giggled. “You don’t want to get on Miss Wickersham’s bad side, Papa. She might actually swat you with her ruler this time!”
He chuckled, recalling the time in the headmistress of Talcott House’s study when the bold woman had taken the pistol from Lord Caldwell and then held tight to the ruler as she set about maintaining control of the situation between Lord Kensington and Grayson and their mutual interest in Hyacinth.
“If anyone asks how we met, Cynny, we will only tell a partial truth. Now, as you well know, I abhor lies and keeping secrets, but in this case, I feel it necessary for your protection.”
“What partial truth will we tell, Papa?”
“You are the orphaned daughter of an associate of mine. I stopped by your new guardian’s home in the country on my way to London, and your charm and beauty enraptured me. I think it wise to present ourselves as a love match, despite some in the ton considering it unfashionable, as it will seem more believable and also explain some of my recent rather odd behavior in London.”
She laughed again as she started to feel at ease over the prospect of venturing out in society. “That all sounds fine, Papa. But…what odd behavior are you referring to? What did you do, dare I ask?”
He ran a hand through his hair, as if the memory of his actions discomforted him. “I may have asked a lady I was paired with on the ballroom floor if she’d ever heard of a gang of thieves called The Weasels.”
Cynny’s stomach dropped to the floor, but she tried to maintain her cheerful disposition, lest she give him any reason to believe her mention of The Weasels had been anything other than a fanciful tale. “Oh dear, Papa. You said that to a lady?”
“I’m afraid so. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, or the amusing story you’d told me.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t tell anyone that I was a member of such a gang,” she said matter-of-factly, “because I would hate to disappoint them. I am nothing but a boring orphan from a boring, poor family in the country. This is my first time in London, you know.”
Lies. More lies. When would she be able to stop?
Her stomach dropped to the floor all over again. The golden pocket watch! She still had to hide the bloody watch somewhere in his house where it could be innocently discovered.
He stepped forward and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead. She inhaled his masculine scent, trying to derive comfort from his closeness even though she worried their happiness might soon come crashing to an end. He didn’t approve of lies or secrets, but she couldn’t seem to abide by this particular rule of his. Oh, how disappointed Papa would be if he ever found out the truth about her.