Wealthy businessman and owner of Draper Estates, Ewan Draper needs a wife to give him the respectability demanded by polite Boston society. He's drawn to the newest of his mill girls, the wild and passionate Lilliane, and arranges a hasty marriage. But when Lilly's enjoyment of sex is diagnosed as nymphomania, an affliction that, it is claimed, will send her mad if left untreated, Ewan's good friend, Dr Phillip Samms, devises a radical cure. A cure that only leaves Lilly wanting more ...
Release date:
November 8, 2012
Publisher:
Accent Press
Print pages:
62
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‘I’m sorry, sir, but it simply cannot. I’ve just come from town. The rumours are beginning to circulate.’
‘So let them.’ Ewan sank himself into his library armchair and lit a cigar.
‘It will affect business.’ After 15 years working as Ewan Draper’s butler, James knew how to get his lord’s attention. ‘Certain people prefer to deal with a man who is –’ he paused here, choosing his words carefully ‘– more of a family man, sir.’
Ewan scoffed. ‘“Certain people?” You’re talking about Samms.’
‘I’m talking about prominent leaders in this town. The mill is growing, sir, but its growth is at a crucial point. You need Samms. You need all of them. A scandal will affect who does business with you.’
‘A scandal,’ Ewan muttered. ‘I spent the evening with some friends. I hardly see what the issue is.’
‘It would be advisable to be more selective in choosing your – friends.’ James paused. ‘Sir,’ he added quietly.
‘Besides, I’m hardly a novelty. I pass by half of Boston’s elite going up Ms Rodham’s steps.’ Ewan grinned. ‘I just spend more time up there than most.’
James swallowed. He was well aware of his master’s appetite, in all areas. It was part of what made him such a successful businessman. Ewan Draper threw himself into whatever he did, with an aim to doing it better, bigger, more successfully. That’s how he was growing his cotton mill into the booming power it was becoming. He worked hard and he played hard. But the playing was getting to be a problem.
‘That may be true, sir, but those men exercise a certain amount of decorum. Their – activities are carried out with a significant amount of subtlety. It means there is less to talk about.’
Ewan smiled widely at this. ‘I had Rodham pick three out for me last night. I told her I wanted a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead.’ He took a long puff of his cigar and stretched back in his chair. ‘Mm, that redhead was a vixen. I had the other two warm me up with their mouths but I saved my seed for that redhead’s tight little …’ He looked up and caught sight of James’s disapproving stare. ‘Ah, James, wipe that look off your puss. It would do you good to come with me some time. Getting your cock wet might get your mind thinking about something other than business for a change.’
‘I’m sure that’s not necessary, sir,’ James said tightly. ‘But your colourful account only proves my point. Samms and others may visit those establishments, but they are discreet. And by and large they are married, which affords them the benefit of appearances.’
‘I am hardly going to pin myself down to one woman for the sake of appearances, James. Didn’t you just hear me say I had three last night? And those three could hardly keep up with me,’ he said, smiling again.
‘Appearances, sir. That’s the issue. Find a wife. Have a child.’ Ewan grimaced. ‘Your marriage vows and whether or not you uphold them will be secondary, as long as you conduct yourself with a tad more discretion.’
Ewan silently stubbed out his cigar, mulling this over. ‘Perhaps I could speak to Rodham and see if she’d let me take the little redhead. That pussy in my bed every night might not be a bad thing.’
‘Sir!’ James exclaimed. ‘Sir, having one of Ms Rodham’s employees become your wife is hardly going to help with appearances. Now, you have that meeting with Samms next month so time is of the essence here. She needn’t be someone of high birth, as long as she’s from a wholesome background. I can take care of the rest.’ James thought for a moment. ‘Even Celeste would do,’ he said, almost to himself.
‘Celeste!’ Ewan scoffed. Ewan being Ewan, he’d already attempted on a number of occasions to avail himself of his kitchen maid’s comely figure, only to be spurned, almost viciously. The only reason the young woman still had her job was at James’s insistence. She was impeccable at her duties and, as James reminded his boss, such good help was difficult to find. ‘There is no chance I will be hitching myself to that frigid wench. Think again.’ Ewan stood and crossed the room, rested his hand on a bookshelf, and gazed out the library’s bay window across the expanse of his estate. ‘I mean, I’ve never had a shortage of women to go to, but wholesome? Wholesome …’ He muttered.
‘The mill, sir,’ James began.
‘Yes, I know, I’m doing this for the mill.’
‘Of course, sir. But what I mean is there are the mill girls …’
The air in the textile mill was stale and hot, the din of 50 sewing machines droning on around Lillianne. At 20, she was unaccustomed to being on her own after spending most of her life on her family’s New England farm. Work on th. . .
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