The Earl's Wildcat. Krystina DarylЧитать онлайн книгу.
child carrying the last name of her sire as a further insult, and an orphan, was a career survivor.
Lydia stood up and pushed her chair back roughly. She punched her fists on the table and leaned over until she was nose to nose with the giant.
He barks, bark louder.
He bites, bite harder.
"I'll buy you your shitty ale, you whiny pussy, after I take your money!" she yelled in his face.
The giant grabbed her shirt collar. "Boy!" he hissed.
Lydia smiled. "Kind sir, shift your eyes to your navel," she said with her natural voice, hoping everyone would assume it to be a mocking tone.
The giant looked down. His eyes widened when he saw the long blade, with its glistening sharp tip pressing close to his navel.
Lydia pushed it forward until it made contact to his person. Reassuming the voice of a man, Lydia yelled in his face, "Release me or forfeit more than your money!"
"Now, gentlemen, there is no need to shed blood," the owner of the establishment spoke with a shaky voice. "How about I award your table two mugs of ale each, just to keep the peace?"
The giant's harsh expression eased at the mention of free ale. He released her and straightened up. "For a scrawny boy who looks like a girl, you are one tough man, Lloyd!"
Lydia had spent enough of her time in drinking establishments like these to know the insult was meant as a compliment.
She nodded and sat back down on her chair. She pushed the hat down to fasten its hold on her hair. "Now, where were we?"
*****
After a few hands, all wins, Lydia left the inn. She was exhausted but the night had just begun. It was time to go to the Dallas Palace to join the rich men's table. She couldn't play. She'd tried but her male clothes didn't scream rich enough to be given a chair on any of the tables.
So she dressed like a whore, sat next to Mr. Kingston and hoped the night ended on his lap.
She never gave him any sexual favours, just advice as an expert gambler. And whenever he pulled her into his lap, it meant he was pleased with her work as an adviser and she was going home with a small fortune.
Mr. Kingston stopped caring much about money six months prior—two months after Lydia had offered him her services. On their first meeting, she had found him sobbing outside the Dallas Palace, mourning the fortune he had lost. The idiot had gone as far as gambling his large fishing business away.
It was an opportunity she could not let slip by her. She offered to help him win everything back, on a few conditions. One, he protected her from men's wandering hands and dicks when she was inside and he too wouldn't dare proposition her. He was a married man and she wasn't going to help him cause his family more distress. Two, they would split extra earnings and he would keep what he had foolishly lost.
Once the agreement was struck she changed her man's attire to that of a whore's and walked into the palace on his arm.
She had been determined to find a way in and she had.
It took the entire night and early morning to win back everything he had lost. The men losing their fortunes tried to have her thrown out a few times, but Mr. Kingston protected her. He had to settle her on his lap and challenge them to get their own woman to help better their ill fortune.
Occupying his lap was not only a sign of great payment but also the only way he could keep the wandering men away from her.
Eight months on, the deal had become the best investment she had ever made.
"Ready?" Tom, Mr. Kingston's footman stepped out of the shadows and approached her.
"Aye," Lydia said with a nod.
They walked to the side of the inn where the carriage waited to take her to the Dallas Palace.
"Why do you still visit these pig-sties when you earn great monies sitting on my boss's lap?" Tom asked with distain.
It was a question he asked every Friday, the agreed upon day for Mr. Kingston to gamble. She had other business on the other days of the week. Also, having Mr. Kingston gamble once a week kept him out of trouble and his family happy to have him home for six days a week.
"Tom, I work for your boss once a week. And besides, I need to polish my skill or you and I will both end up with no employment."
He smiled. "No we won't. Like a cat, you would land on your feet and I will become your partner."
Lydia turned and stared at him cautiously. She moved her hand slowly to her back where the blade sat. "What is your meaning, Tom?"
"I will become your driver, your escort, your guard." He leaned closer to her and whispered, "Your lover and all that you require. And you would support us on the gambling table. Within a year, we would be living in a mansion as large as Mr. Kingston's."
Lydia eyed him suspiciously. She might not be a saint, but one thing that she did not appreciate were men who were not loyal. They could be thieves, saints or murderers—she didn't care as long as they were loyal to someone or something.
"How long have you been pondering this, Tom?"
He shrugged and kept walking. "It just came to me."
Lydia followed. "Do you not believe the monies you are being paid for your services to me and his household enough?"
He stopped and turned to her. "Don't get me wrong, Wildcat. I appreciate all the boss has provided, but I have always wished for more. To be considered more than just a lowly footman. Surely you do understand?"
Lydia nodded. No one understood better than she did. "Let's discuss it when the New Year comes. This business arrangement might work."
Tom cheered, a deep grin filling his face. "Wildcat, I can hardly wait!"
Once they reached the carriage, Lydia pulled the hat off to expose her braided hair. She stood still when she felt Tom's hand pull free the braid.
"You have such beautiful golden locks."
The tone in his voice disturbed Lydia. He sounded aroused. "I only let down because Mr. Kingston asked it. I believe it is a requirement in the Dallas Palace?"
"Yes." She heard him swallow lustfully as he caressed the braid, "I believe it is a requirement."
Lydia turned around, pulling her hair free of his hold. She held the knife tightly in her hand at her side, preparing to defend herself. "Tom, do not let your imagination run with reckless abandon. If we are to enter the agreement, the terms will be the same as that I have with Mr. Kingston."
"Do you intend on being a spinster all your life, or find a man worthy of your virtue?" he asked with a large sneer of his face.
Lydia smiled, he was right about that. He wasn't worthy to take what her grandmother had called her precious gift. She had no delusions of finding a worthy man who would love her, save her and give her comfort for the rest of her life. She'd also banished the delusions of one day having a brood of her own.
But her virtue, the innocence of her body was the only thing that hadn't been polluted. She was going to hold onto her precious gift for herself.
"Tom, what's between my thighs will not and never will be in our agreement, if I choose to go ahead with it. Keep that in mind as you decide your own terms for the arrangement."
Without waiting for a response, she got into the carriage and began changing into her whore costume.
*****
Lydia got out of the carriage, holding her heavy cloak tight around her shoulders. The costume was highly uncomfortable but business was business.
She wore pink drawers that inched close to her hips, covering just her delicate private parts. Her long white stockings were held up with clips that were fastened to her scandalous drawers. Her red corset was padded to push her humble breasts higher,