Statuesque Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1- In The Country

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 -Several Months Later In Town

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19- The Next Day

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33- Epilogue

  Statuesque

  by Chera Zade & Fanny Mills

  Published by Redingote Reads

  New York, NY

  Statuesque copyright © 2019 Fanny Mills & Chera Zade

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18, and all characters are represented as 18 or older.

  Cover photo used under license from Deposit Photos.

  The individual pictured on the cover is a model, and her image is used for illustrative purposes only.

  About this book

  A wallflower and a rake fall in love, Infernalis Club style. A romance with a firm handed hero, and some activities that might not appeal to everyone. Although this book can be read on its own, it works best as part of the Infernalis Club series. Additionally, at least a passing familiarity with the content and heat level of this series is advised prior to reading this book.

  Chapter 1- In The Country

  Gillian

  It was her parents that Gillian missed the most, gone now nearly three years. But after that, she missed the music and dancing that so reminded her of them.

  As a girl, she had often snuck away from her governess to catch glimpses of the wonderfully elegant balls that her parents used to throw.

  She had loved watching the glamorous adults glide across the floor in time to lovely music, her father proudly leading her mother, and her mother, always so beautiful in a lovely new gown...

  Her parents would find her hours later, dozing on a settee, her father carrying her back up to bed as her mother held her hand.

  “It will be your turn soon enough, my sweet,” her mother had said, kissing her on her forehead. “We will plan something quite grand for you.”

  Ah, but those were wonderful years. Years gone all too quickly.

  Her parents had truly had a very happy marriage, and their happiness had radiated to everyone around them. Especially to her, their daughter, and only child.

  When Gillian turned sixteen, her mother had begun planning what would have been a wondrous debut. “There’s nothing to rush, my dear,” her mother had said, hugging her. “We’ll certainly not have you married before nineteen. But I know how much you will enjoy the dancing.”

  She had nodded, looking over the dancing steps, trying to remember the proper order. Country dancing had been permitted, and she loved the simple joy of it- but dancing at a ball was so much more refined.

  She never did learn the steps. Tragedy struck long before her planned come out. And then she had come here, to Groton Park, to live with her Aunt and her Uncle and her cousins. It was made abundantly clear to her from the first day, that her parents had left her with nothing, and she was not to expect to act as a lady of the manner. No, she was to help attend to her younger cousins like the poor relation that she was. And then when her cousins no longer had any need of her, she would be expected to go out and find work as a paid companion to some old Dowager.

  And that was why, even though it was the night of her Cousin Mary's debut, Gillian was upstairs in her attic bedchamber, instead of attending her Cousin Mary’s ball. According to Aunt Winifred, she was an awkward embarrassment, especially in her unfashionable clothes, and her attendance had been forbidden unless she was willing to act as Cousin Mary's companion, constantly fetching things that her Cousin might need. Having her fill of that during the day, she accepted being sent up to bed.

  She had been sorely tempted to tell Aunt Winifred that the reason her clothing was dowdy was because she had not had anything but second hand clothes since coming to live under her roof. And if she had become awkward in company, it was due to appearing so infrequently at social gatherings. Also, the fact that Aunt Winifred insisted that she wear he spectacles while in company didn't help either. For reading and needlework, they were invaluable. But they simply were not meant to be worn at other times, and trying to walk with them on was a perilous endeavor. Dancing with them on made her an awkward menace. But poor relations cannot afford to talk back to their betters. If she did anything to upset Aunt Winifred, she would find herself without anywhere to live.

  And so, she had spent the evening reading in her attic bedchamber, both relieved that she did not have to dance attendance on her younger, and rather snobbish cousin, and also very disappointed. For, despite becoming quite practical since coming to live at Groton Park, she could not help but dream that maybe her awkward Cinderella self might find someone to fall in love with. Someone who would love her too.

  And where else but a ball would one find such a charming Prince?

  It was a silly dream, of course. With no dowry, with the wrong looks, and the wrong sort of everything, there would be no line of suitors waiting for her hand.

  But how nice it would be, even just for a moment, to escape who she was, and play the part of the woman she wished to be?

  Gillian put her book down on the bedside table, folded her glasses neatly atop her book, and got up, walking toward the direction of the music. It must be quite loud in the ballroom for it to resonate as far as the attics, but she didn’t mind it. The tune was a familiar one, and filled her with considerable warmth. It held such sweet memories. Memories of the time before—

  She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and choked back a sob. And then she shook her head. It had been her parent’s favorite song, a lovely, lively melody, full of energy and life.

  No, it was not a song to cry to- it was a song to celebrate.

  And then, without quite realizing what she was up to in her nightdress and bare feet, she was twirling around the room, going through the steps of their favorite country dance.

  She longed to hear more, enough so to consider what should have otherwise been unthinkable.

  And yet, that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

  Listening to the music at closer range would mean sneaking out of her bedchamber.

  She eyed her door, then shook her head- she would certainly be spotted if she came down the long gallery. But what if she escaped outdoors instead? Then she could listen off to the side of the terrace for as long as she liked, with little fear of detection. Unfortunately, that meant having to leave her bedchamber through the window. She was fortunate that the attic window was more than large enough for someone of more ample proportions, but she was not so foolish to ignore the various improprieties.

  It w
ould be thoroughly indecent to sneak out the window, even more so in her nightclothes. She ought to put on something more proper, but she couldn’t chance the trellis in a good dress, even if they were castoffs from her cousins from several seasons ago. She weighed the odds of being caught in her nightdress versus the scolding she would get from a torn dress, and decided to carry her folded dress with her. It was a dark night, and there was a fair amount of shrubbery surrounding the manor. Add in the fact that no one was likely to venture off of the terrace, and a bit of luck, and she would be fine, especially after she changed into a darker dress.

  She gave a small shiver. Sneaking out of her window in nightclothes was the naughtiest thing she had ever done in her entire twenty-two years of life. It was wrong... and also rather exciting.

  With some effort, she pushed the window up, her senses nearly stunned by the beauty of the chords.

  Despite childhood lessons on the pianoforte, she was a dismal musician, but that didn’t mean that she lacked appreciation for it. If anything, her own failures proved how difficult it was to obtain such mastery.

  She rested her chin on her hand, and closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her.

  It was lovely, absolutely lovely.

  And then, without fully realizing what she was doing, she found herself outside her window, carefully climbing down the trellis that was firmly attached to the outside of the house.

  She lost her footing for one perilous moment, the bundled dress falling somewhere to the ground. The sensible thing would have been to climb back up after a danger like that, but now she could not-- even if she had wanted to go back to her room, she would not be able to do so until her dress was found-- for how else would she explain it if someone else were to find her dress outside in the shrubbery?

  The natural assumption would be that she was having a tryst with someone. And-- and, she would have been assumed to have gone very far with him indeed to have lost her dress.

  Of course, anyone who knew her would have thought the idea absurd, but her Aunt would be happy for the excuse to punish her.

  She sighed. If only the idea of her trysting with some rogue gentleman wasn't such an absurd impossibility.

  But she was a bespectacled poor relation with an overly ample shape, and Aunt Winifred had repeatedly told her how much gentlemen of quality despised women like that.

  Gillian's feet touched the soft grass, the tickle of the blades reminding her that she was barefoot. Barefoot, and in naught but her chemise. It was an absurd risk. If she was discovered, she could expect her Aunt's wrath. It was a thought that sent a shudder up her spine. She looked up at her open window— as soon as she found her dress, she ought to go right back up the trellis and return to the safety of her bedchamber.

  But if she found her dress, who would ever know she had left her bedchamber? Now that she was outside, why not enjoy the music that she had come down to listen to?

  She was nearing the terrace, though still hidden in the shadows, when a giggling, rustling sound drove her into the verdure.

  “Oh goodness,” Gillian fretted. What had she gotten herself into? For surely she was witnessing some errant behavior. And at Groton Park, no less!

  Her Aunt had given numerous lectures to all of her daughters regarding vice, and she had been forced to listen as well. Girls, must be a perfect model of female chastity and restraint. Men only thought that they wanted their wicked way with women, but what they really wanted was a good wife to set them on the narrow path to their eternal reward.

  Was that what this particular gentleman in the shrubbery wanted? For she was certain she had stumbled upon some sort of tryst.

  If she had stayed in her bedchamber as she was supposed to, she would not now be faced with her current predicament.

  She was trapped. If she moved, they might see her or hear her, and then what would happen? How could she possibly explain what she was doing there in her nightdress?

  She shuddered to think what the repercussions might be. Bread and water and restricted to her bedchamber? Or tersely made to wait until one of the servants fetched a proper bundle?

  It wasn’t just the pain that she dreaded, it was the mortification of having to answer to the birch, even though she was now quite womanly.

  No, she could not risk injuring herself in the shrubbery. But if she made for the light, surely the couple would spot her.

  Well, what then? If they were in fact doing something improper, they could not inform on her without compromising themselves.

  She ought to make a dash for it.

  But what if they weren’t doing something improper? What if it was merely a respectable married couple out for a turn in the gardens? If so, she could be putting herself at considerable risk if she were spotted.

  Don’t be silly, Gillian, she chastised herself, you can hear faint traces of their activity. Does that sound like a proper, respectable couple to you?

  She shivered. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded illicit, very illicit indeed.

  Chapter 2

  Lord Carrington

  Lord Carrington, Earl of Claverdon, was bored out of his mind. Had he been in his cups when he accepted this invitation? He shook his head- no, he had never been one to overindulge, well, not with drink. But he couldn't for the life of him remember why he had agreed to attend this particular country ball. Perhaps he had lost a bet at one of his clubs? That seemed the only likely explanation.

  The food was awful and so was the company. Had he been out of society for so long that he forgot how dangerous it was to be a single man in possession of a fortune? He could not move more than an inch in any direction before some overbearing Mama was thrusting her marriageable daughters at him.

  “No thank you, I don't go in for unskilled virgins,” he wanted to say, chasing them away so he could have some breathing room. But of course, one never says what one wants to in polite society.

  He wasn't really in need of feminine companionship at the moment- after a few years of considerable indulgences, he had satiated every vice he had, but he wasn't unwilling to distract himself with the right, suitably disinterested person.

  When Lady Matterly, a curvy widow that he knew from the Infernalis Club strolled by and gave him a slow up and down look, her tongue mischievously darting out over her lower lip, he thought he had found some entertainment for a while.

  They left the terrace separately, what one does to keep a tryst private. Well, not without first letting the Duke of Esterly know of their plans.

  It was not of their first time doing this, not with other people nor with each other. But it had always been quite clear that it was merely a bodily release. Besides, it was well known that Lady Matterly was angling for Esterly. Yes, Lady Matterly was a safe choice.

  Chapter 3

  Gillian

  Gillian felt trapped. What was she to do? Surely she ought not to witness— to witness whatever it was that they were doing. She could not be certain what it was, seeing as they were hidden from the moonlight, but she was certain it was something bordering upon sinful. Or, perhaps, it was sin itself.

  She could not see, but she could hear sounds. Sounds that seemed almost to be... bodily responses.

  It was jarring, it was disturbing, it confused her mind and her senses. She was practically reeling from it all, when suddenly it stopped.

  “My, but you do have your surprises, don’t you?” A female voice purred.

  “Coming into my title has had its benefits.”

  “Coming into your vices, I should say,” she giggled. “Or coming into--”

  “Mind your mouth.”

  “Oh, I thought you already did.”

  “Back into the ballroom with you,” he said, “before I introduce you to more of my vices.”

  “Oh, I'm already familiar with those. What if I’m not ready to return yet?”

  A sharp sound of flesh reverberating upon flesh.

  “Ooh!” The woman squealed. “My bottom!”

&nbs
p; “Stay and you can expect a lot more,” the man said, delivering another spank.

  “Ooh, but you wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, but I certainly would. And don’t expect your gown to look the same afterward, either.”

  The woman gulped.

  “Go on, Esterly saw you leave with me. You know he loves that sort of thing. He'll be suitably primed.”

  “Ooh, you beast!”

  “Most definitely,” he agreed, with some humor in his voice. “But so is Esterly. And he's going to want you back nice and hot, so you can tell him all about what we just did. Duchess would be a step up, no?”

  “Beast,” the lady said, laughing. “You're a beast. But such a good throat-fucker. Yes, I'll be sure to tell Esterly about every last drop. If I have a ring on my finger tomorrow, I'll be sure to thank you from both of us.”

  Gillian couldn’t believe the things she was overhearing. She hadn't just climbed out of her window, she must have opened her window into another world-- a world where everything was the exact opposite of reality.

  This man and woman, clearly members of the aristocracy, had just engaged in an act that... well, she couldn't even begin to describe how immoral it had been. And they were joking about it like friends? And they both thought that a Duke would be so aroused by what the lady had just done that he would propose marriage? It made absolutely no sense at all. Men did not want women who engaged in sinful acts in the bushes with other men. And what of the acts she had overheard? The sucking, the grunting... the spanking?

  They were all very, very wrong things. And yet, she felt strangely dizzy thinking about them, so much so that her body felt terribly, terribly confused, so much so that she felt this odd clenching.

  But now was not the time to contemplate her own bodily reactions. No, as she watched the lady reluctantly head off in the direction of the terrace doors, she realized that now was the perfect time for her to make her own escape. She quickly turned in the direction of her bedchamber, but her escape was thwarted by a low hanging branch.