A Lady’s Secret
by
Gypsy deWilde
Smashwords Edition
A Lady’s Secret
Copyright © 2010 by Gypsy deWilde
ISBN: 978-1-4523-9474-9
Cover Art by Laura Shinn
Smashwords Licensing Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
A Lady’s Secret is a short work of erotic fiction. All places and names are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any similar names or characteristics to any person, past, present, or future, are entirely coincidental. The events included happened only in the imagination of the author.
Laura Shinn from laurashinn.com/ designed my beautiful cover and encouraged the completion of more of my old style tales.
Thank you from my heart. I am so happy we met.
A Lady’s Secret
The Civil War, or the War Between the States as it was often called, cost her almost everything. Offered a chance to help end the bloody battle between fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons; Lady Constance became a spy for the North. Finally it ended, but not before she met a most unforgettable man. Two years later she is called to duty once more. Her orders: To stop the man she can’t get out of her mind from assassinating the President.
And she is to use any means necessary.
A Lady’s Secret
That dratted war had been over for two years, but still haunted Lady Constance Ashmore. She lost every man who ever meant anything to her in the War Between the States. It had been a war between brothers, fathers and sons, and even husbands and wives. She still mourned her father and brother, but especially her husband. After barely enough time for a proper wedding and a week of seclusion, Lord John Ashmore was recalled to his Union regiment and forced to return to duty. He died two weeks later in battle, leaving her a widow. A month later she found she was an only child as her brother had been killed. A few months following his funeral, Constance became an orphan. Her father died when a group of over zealous soldiers raided Teague Oaks for horses. She never even knew which side they supposedly fought for or if they were deserters turned thieves.
Two weeks after the death of her father, her secret began. Lady Constance Ashmore became a Yankee spy. She’d been approached by Sir Thaddeus Kenward, a gentleman well-placed in diplomatic circles. It seemed Lady Ashmore was in a particularly interesting, and extremely helpful, situation. She would be accepted on both sides of the war. Her father’s property and background, a plantation owner from South Carolina who believed firmly in state rights, guaranteed her a position in Southern society. Her widowed status to a slain Union officer with means and property in Maryland would ensure her safe passage on Northern soil.
Sir Kenward made it sound simple as he enticed her to attend, circulate, and listen at southern social events. He asked her to then pass along whatever tidbits of news she might pick up from the wives and sweethearts of Southern officers and any influential businessmen she might overhear. She was torn, her loyalties divided, until he played his ace, as her dear, departed daddy would have said.
Kenward pointed out that a Union victory was a foregone conclusion. But perhaps she could assist in bringing the bloodiest war in history to a more rapid conclusion and thus help other wives, sisters, mothers, and daughters keep the men they cared for alive to return home.
* * *
Constance fingered the expensive note-card in her hand. A footman brought it to her only moments earlier. How did he know she returned to the townhouse in Charleston? Did the blasted man still have spies everywhere? Bad dreams of her many close calls, of being discovered and talking her way out, and her fear of being publicly hanged as a spy had almost stopped over the past few months.
But being back in this house, this town, with its buildings bearing shell holes and war ghosts, disturbed her peace of mind. She’d dealt with one of her nightmares just last night. And now this... A note demanded she meet Sir Kenward in their usual place.
He couched it in terms of a romantic liaison, in case it was intercepted, and he signed it only with his initials. Just as before, when she’d passed information to him on southern troop movements and supply runs.
Constance paced the floor. She didn’t want to go and wondered what he would do if she failed to show. What could the man possibly need from her after all this time? The war was well and truly over—the country was healing, wasn’t it? Surely he had no more need of a female spy. Perhaps she should keep the assignation one last time. She would make it clear she was done with him and his notes. That would be the end of it.
Dressed carefully, as she would for a true meeting of the heart, Constance sent for a Hansom cab and instructed the driver to take her to the theater. He assisted her inside and took his place atop the coach.
Once at the theater, Constance paid her driver and walked to the line of cabs waiting for fares. She hired another driver and climbed aboard. This one she instructed to take her to a certain dock, to a private boat, a yacht they were now called. Constance told him there would be a fine tip, if he cared to wait. He stayed put and pulled out his pipe.
Constance covered her hair and most of her face then walked along the wooden ramps among the tethered boats until she reached the correct one. She rang the small bell three times and waited.
He came from behind her. His arm encircled her shoulders and he greeted her, “My love. I am so glad you came. Come aboard and let me show you the changes I’ve made to the Lady Freedom. I was just out securing this bottle of wine for us. We’ll drink a toast to her.” With that he ushered her on board and hurried her below.
She heard one of his men move into place to guard the access as Sir Kenward finally lit a lantern. “Well, Thaddeus. Looks like nothing much has changed with you.” She uncovered her face and hair as she pointedly looked at the thick black cloth draped over the porthole and the maps and papers stacked on his desk.
“It is grand to see you also, Lady Constance. You’re more beautiful than ever. Won’t you have a seat and partake of the wine?”
“No, thank you. I won’t be staying long. And you are thinner and even more worn looking than before. Are the nation’s affairs so troublesome?”
“Very troublesome, my dear. Exactly the reason I asked you to join me tonight. You must excuse me, please, if I sit. This leg pains me more each day. And I definitely could use some libation.” Thaddeus dropped onto the chair behind the desk, stretched out his offending limb, and popped the cork on the wine. He poured a fair portion into a mug and took a long drink. “Sure you won’t have just a sip?”
Constance shook her head. “Thaddeus, our arrangement is over. I came tonight out of... curiosity, let’s say—and because I felt I owed it to you. But this is the last time. I am out of this.” There, she’d said it and now she could go. She did not want to get drawn back into whatever had him so shaken.
“Someone is trying to assassinate the President.” Thaddeus watched her over the rim of his cup as he took another drink. She sat abruptly on the edge of the chair facing him.
“But... I thought they caught all the conspirators involved in the assassination of President Lincoln. And Johnson appears to be doing an adequate job of the Reconstruction, isn’t he?”
“Yes and no. There are several groups who want Johnson gone. Seems they don’t agree with his policies of taking from the rich to share with the poor. Then on the other side there are those who don’t like his efforts to block civil rights. Some are willing to attempt to remove him legally through impeachment, some would rather he join Lincoln in the grave. Our country would be in dire straits if another assassination were to occur, particularly now. We need to get someone close to a man who is involved.”
“Me?” Constance laughed nervously and played with the edges of her shawl. “What makes you think he would let me get close? No, please, Thaddeus... Find someone else. I truly—”
“Nathaniel Weston.” Kenward said the name then poured wine into the second mug on the desk and passed it over.
She drained it in one swallow. “Nate? You think he’s trying to kill President Johnson?”
“We don’t know, Constance. He’s involved up to his...er, uhm...chin. We’re just not sure how, or why. You are to use any...uhm...means at your disposal to find out and to stop him. Now you know why I chose you.” Wisely, Thaddeus stopped talking and allowed her time to mull over what he told her.
Nate, an assassin? Her mind tried to work that out. Yes, she knew he could kill a man. She’d watched him do it on two separate occasions. And he’d gotten her out of more than one tight spot during her spying days. He was tough, quick, and wily as a fox, but she would not accept him as an assassin.
“I don’t believe it,” she told her former employer. She breathed deeply as she tried to find a way around this, but then let out a long sigh before agreeing, “All right, I will do this one last thing for you, for my country. But you will not ask anything else of me, ever. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, my dear, perfectly.” A smile lit his face and he poured both of them another dollop of wine. “To success—and hopefully, to saving our country.”
* * *
In the dark interior of the cab, Constance couldn’t stop the memories of Nathaniel filling her mind—or her heart. She always suspected Thaddeus, or one of her well-placed contacts, asked Nate to keep an eye on her. He seemed to frequent many of the same functions as she, and Nate always showed up when she got into trouble. Or perhaps he was just a Sir Galahad, a knight in shining armor, always ready to assist a lady. She wouldn’t believe his armor was tarnished.
Lady Ashmore closed her eyes and thought of the last time she’d seen him...
Nate, tall, dark, and handsome as the devil, had climbed up the balcony and forced open the French doors. He’d dragged her out of the room and closed the doors just as the Southern Colonel burst in with a giggly maid on his arm. The partially intoxicated man proceeded to stick his hands inside the maid’s dress and pinch her bottom. Instead of protesting, the maid dropped to her knees in front of the man and opened his trousers. She took his staff out and stuck it in her mouth.
Constance almost cried out in disbelief, but Nate slapped his hand over her mouth and pulled her deeper into the shadows. “Do you want to get us killed?” he whispered in her ear.
She shook her head and he loosened his grip. She felt his reaction to what they were seeing press against her hip and tried to step away. But Constance couldn’t prevent the stir of interest deep within her own privates. Two long years since her husband’s death, her mourning was over and she was still a young, healthy woman, after all. She felt alone, so isolated, most of the time.
Nate felt her shift and tightened his grip around her waist. He grinned to himself as he thought of her reaction if he shoved her down in front of him and opened his trousers. She’d probably bite him, he decided. He whispered, “Be still. This won’t take long and they’ll leave.”
Constance felt him move against her hip and closed her eyes against the sensations coursing through her. She felt her nipples harden and swallowed. She refused to look into the room, again.
Then Nate whispered, “Seems I was mistaken. This is going to take a while.” He softly chuckled against her neck.
She couldn’t resist a peek to see what he was talking about. The Colonel had unbuttoned the maid’s dress and let it fall to the floor. He was now stripping off her petticoats as he suckled at her large breast. His thick shaft stuck out from his trousers. Then he backed the maid up against the wall, lifted one of her legs, and thrust himself into her.
A low groan came from Nate’s chest behind her as they watched the Colonel pounding into the maid and heard the woman’s cries of delight.
Constance gasped as Nate’s grip on her tightened and she felt his manhood jerk in response. Against her better judgment, Constance let her hand trail back and slide along the protrusion in his trousers. John never allowed her to touch him there during their time of seclusion. He’d said it wasn’t proper for a lady and she’d always wondered how it felt, other than between her legs. No longer a maiden, but still very innocent in many ways, Constance felt consumed by a burning curiosity about the ways of men and women.
Nate pushed her hand away, whispering hotly in her ear, “As much as I like that, you’d better stop.”
“No,” she’d whispered in return and put her hand back on his hard staff.
“Well, if you’re going to do it, at least do it properly,” he bit out, and then reached down to unfasten his breeches.
Constance made a soft, low sound of appreciation as her hand glided over the satiny velvet cover on the hard shaft of muscle. She stroked her hand up and down the length before running her fingers curiously around the tip. When she found the opening at the tip, she rubbed the drop of liquid there all over the end.
“You are killing me, Constance,” Nate growled. Then he bit on her earlobe and nibbled her neck.
Hot spears of need darted straight between her legs and she tightened her grip on his staff. It responded by surging back and forth in her hand.
Noises from inside drew her gaze back to the Colonel and the maid. He had her bent over the bed now and shoved himself in between her buttocks. With every thrust, he grunted and the woman squealed. She’d never seen anything like it in her life.
“For an old man, he has some stamina, eh, love?” Nate asked the woman holding his shaft in her hand. He slid his hand up from her waist and stroked her breast through her dress. Her nipple was extended and like a little rock. Searching out the other one, he gently pinched and tugged both of them at once.
She almost cried out, but remembered not to give their position away just in time.
“Like that do you, sweetness? Well you’re going to love this...” Nate hiked up the back of her ball gown and petticoats then slid his hand between her legs to hunt the slit in her bloomers.
Shocked, she whispered, “No, stop that,” but he didn’t listen.
“It’s only fair. You keep handling me whilst I show you how good it feels.” As he said that, his fingers found the opening and he stroked his index finger along her moist slit.
Trembling with longing, her hand clutched his staff even tighter.
He stuck one finger in her and touched the front of her nether lips with his thumb.
Constance couldn’t control the rapid contortions of her hips and he clamped his other hand over her mouth just in time as she found her pleasure.
Her completion and her subsequent tightening of her grip on his shaft yet again led to his own satisfaction and he spurted his juices onto the balcony.
A scream and a loud rebel yell from inside signaled a similar ending to the Colonel’s endeavor and they looked to see the man slumped over the back of the maid, both of them panting.
Nate drew out a handkerchief and passed it to Constance, then got himself in order as she righted her clothes.
“Constance...” He caught hold of her arm and turned her to face him, wanting to say something, anything to tell her how much he admired, and desired, her.
She pulled away and shook her head, placing a finger to her lips, telling him to shush.
The Colonel and the maid hastily left the room and Constance went inside. She located the papers she’d been searching for when she’d almost been discovered and handed them to Nate. “Give these to Sir Kenward, please. And tell him I’m going home, to Teague Oaks, for a while. I... I need a long rest.”
She walked out of the room that night and straight to retrieve her things. She’d left without seeing him again as she was too embarrassed to face him after what she allowed to happen.
Constance never replied when Nate sent a letter out to the plantation. She had not needed to return to Charleston, either, as General Lee surrendered the very next week. Thankfully, the War and her job were over.
The cab stopped at her door and she paid the driver, adding a large tip as promised. She tiredly made her way inside and climbed the stairs to bed. She would need her rest as it all started again, tomorrow.
* * *
Nate saw the auburn-haired beauty in the pink-flowered gown enter the foyer before she saw him. If possible, she looked more beautiful than she did the night they watched the Colonel and the maid. He’d ached to get her into bed or on a haystack or anywhere else ever since. Other women had not satisfied his need for her, though God knew he’d tried. Watching her walk across to the host and hostess already made him so uncomfortable he would have to stand behind something or embarrass himself. He felt like a callow youth. And this is a strange coincidence... He wondered at her suddenly showing up, just as things were heating up. He considered if Kenward was behind it. No, she’d told them both goodbye on the same night. Whatever brought her here, it couldn’t be anything to do with his special project.
Constance greeted Mr. and Mrs. Dalton and inquired about their children. She caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, but ignored him as best she could. He would find her eventually. And she had to have her story in place and believable by then.
Mingling, while carefully spreading her tale of being tired of living alone, was easier than she thought. Most knew a widower or a late bloomer who was on the market and they began inviting her to all manner of parties and balls. Delighted, she accepted several invitations, danced with several men, and even agreed to one request for a walk in the park the following afternoon.
So, the Lady had decided it was time to marry again. Well, good luck to her and whoever she ensnares. If he had time, Nate would have her bedded, out of his system and forgotten, and they could both get on with their lives. But there was no time. If he was to finish this, he had to set things in motion, and quickly. He watched her twirl around the floor, laughing and having a wonderful time. He’d have one dance with her first, just to remind her of what she was missing.
Tapping a gentleman on the shoulder, Nathaniel stepped into place and swung Constance about the ballroom floor before she had a chance to refuse.
When her startled blue eyes met his deep, dark gaze, he smiled. “Hello, Lady Constance. What a pleasure to find you’ve rejoined polite society.” He pulled her closer with each twirl and allowed his hand to caress a bit lower on her back.
Instead of pulling away as a lady should, Constance smiled in return. “Why, Nathaniel. How nice to see you again. I’ve decided it was past time. One can only spend so much time tending roses and reading. Teague Oaks practically runs itself with Mr. Barr as manager. Now what have you been up to?”
Yes, the little cat is definitely up to something. “Not much, love. A few parties and I’ve purchased a ship or two to keep me occupied.” He actually owned a fleet of the new steam ships and they were doing quite well with runs to France and Spain carrying both passengers and cargo. He would be content to oversee their success once this last little thing was accomplished.
“Ships? I never quite pictured you as a sea-faring man.” She laughed deep in her throat.
Nate’s groin tightened at the sensual sound as he pictured her laughing like that against his bare chest. His reactions would soon become obvious if he didn’t put some distance between himself and Constance. But he didn’t... He waited to see what she would do.
Even through layers of petticoats and her gown, Constance felt the bulge growing against her stomach as he held her closer than was proper. She should move away, or protest, or run and hide... But something about this man and her desire to learn things, intimate secrets, kept her glued to the front of him. Warmth flooded the private area between her legs, her nipples hardened. Constance pressed nearer and stroked his shoulder where her left hand rested with the tips of her fingers.
Nate closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Hot, desperate need surged through his loins and stiffened his shaft. He could take her right here, on the crowded ballroom floor, toss her gown over her head and pull her astride him. He leaned his mouth near her ear and growled, “Come with me...” He insistently took her arm and turned her toward the staircase.
Constance hesitated, but only for a moment. Her orders were to get close to Nathaniel Weston. She had a feeling she was about to do just that and enjoy it along the way. No telling what secrets she would learn. But they might not have a thing to do with President Johnson.