A Lascivious Lady Read Online Free Page A

what?” Amelia said, glancing up.
    “Well what did Traverson say about my eyes? Did he compare them to a dung beetle, or the underbelly of a worm?” Turning sideways in the mirror to admire the plum dress from a different angle, Josephine continued, “Do go on Melly. Tell me what he said! I am in need a good laugh.”
    Amelia barely managed not to roll her eyes. “’E said nothin’, mum, but ‘tis clear as day. Why do ye think he looks at nothin’
    more than yer face? Yer eyes en-en-en trance him,” she said, taking care with the pronunciation of the new word she had learned yesterday eve during her self imposed studies.
    “I do not entrance him,” Josephine scoffed. “He thinks I am ugly.”
    Amelia saw the tell tale flash of hurt that crossed Josephine’s face before she expertly disguised it behind her usual mask of coy indifference and shook her head in disgust. Never a more foolish pair had she ever come across than the Master and the Missus. If their love for each other was any more obvious they would be tripping over it. Was there any truer sign of affection than bringing out the worst in your partner?
    Mayhap, Amelia thought, her lips pursing, they simply needed a nudge in the right direction. And who better to do the nudging than the one who would benefit the most from their happy union? Dealing with Josephine’s mood swings was becoming a full time job, and Amelia had much better things to do than calm her mistress’s ruffled feathers when the Master made an unexpected appearance.
    For one, she had to get about the business of finding a man for herself. She already had her sights set on the son of the local baker, but the scoundrel was proving to be quite elusive…
    “Have ye replied to Lady Catherine’s invitation yet, mum?”
    Josephine let the purple gown drop and kicked it carelessly aside. “No,” she said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through the armoire for yet another dress. “You know how I abhor the country, Melly. The smells, the animals, the children running amuck.”
    Popping back out clutching a pale blue dress this time, she swung to face the mirror and studied her reflection with a critical eye. “I would rather curl up in a hole and die.”
    Amelia rolled her eyes again. “No need tae be so dramatic. It is only fer three weeks. Why, that’s barely more than a fortnight!
    Not long a’tall.”
    “It is nigh on a month,” Josephine corrected her, “and I would rather be roasted alive over a pit of boiling hot lava.”
    “Where do ye come up with these things?” Amelia grumbled.
    “I have a very active imagination.” Taking the dress, Josephine carefully laid it out length wise across the bed. “This one, I think,” she said, gently touching one sleeve. “With my hair done in ringlets. Do you think it will make me look younger, Melly?”
    The hopeful note in her voice was tangible, and Amelia sighed as she got to her feet to help Josephine into the dress. She knew her mistress considered five and twenty to be close to ancient, and worried over her complexion on a near daily basis. Every wrinkle, every spot, every line, whether imagined or not, was something to be bemoaned and cried over.
    “But who shall love me when my beauty fades, Melly?” she had asked a thousand times before. “It is all I have.”
    Slipping a soft white chemise over Josephine’s head, Amelia followed suit with a corset and began to lace up the back with deft tugs. “Ye are the last person to worry aboot gettin’ older and I think ye should go to visit yer friend in the country. Does she not have a new wee bairn?”
    “Two,” gasped Josephine as she sucked in her stomach. “Another set of twins. I have been hoping to avoid meeting them until they are old enough to—ouch, Melly! I can hardly breathe.”
    Amelia gave another ruthless tug, pulling the stays to the breaking point. “Ye want to look young, do ye not?”
    “Well yes, but I—”
    TUG!
    After the corset came the