Claiming Her Innocence Read Free Page B

slickness between her legs.
    Lust. That had been Susan’s sin. The nuns had warned against it, warned against carnal feelings no good girl should ever have.
    Her mind called out again in silent supplication . God forgive me.

Chapter Three: Lord Westcott’s Plan
     
     
    He had no doubt that she’d give in. Alton Westcott was a man who knew women, a man who could detect even the subtlest nuances of a woman’s mood. A change in complexion, a dilation of the pupils, a slight fluttering of the hands—these could indicate nervousness, or something else. Something the woman was trying to hide, or trying to deny.
    He’d had chosen Penelope not in spite of her convent education, but because of it. When a young woman like Lady Penelope fought to stay in a cloistered, chaste environment, it often wasn’t because she was afraid of what lay beyond the walls, but rather of what lay within herself. The pious Lady Lennox had ingrained in Penelope a fear of the most natural thing in the world—the girl’s own sexuality.
    For a man like Alton Westcott, claiming a woman’s virginity wasn’t about leaving the first mark on untouched flesh, but the joy of awakening a pure woman to her inner wanton, of seeing her make the transformation from a complete innocent to a sexual libertine who reveled in the power of her own body. It was about freeing her from the bonds of the crippling mindset too often foisted on women of his social class—a mindset that led to frigidity and broken hearts when the frustrated husband sought out more willing partners.
    Lord Westcott had certainly enjoyed his share of women, and had a reputation to prove it. But despite his notoriety as a rake, for some time he’d been thinking on marriage. The only barrier had been his criteria for a wife. Alton had a certain type of woman in mind—an innocent ripe for the kind of training he had in mind, a sheltered virgin he could tease so expertly that she’d be begging for him to take her. And once she did, the experience would be so powerful for both of them that they’d be forever fixed as the other’s insatiable mate.
    He knew that woman was Penelope Lennox. But the proper seduction took proper planning, and for Lord Westcott, that started with the selection of a lady’s maid.
    Rake or no, Alton drew the line at bedding his own serving staff. But he was well aware of all who worked in his house, and when word reached him of a particularly lusty maid named Betsy, he knew she would be the perfect attendant to his betrothed.
    Pulling his pocket watch from his vest, he looked down, wondering if Betsy would be on time for the meeting he’d planned to have with her before dinner. She was; the door opened as if on cue.
    “Betsy,” he said.
    “Your lordship.” The pretty maid dropped to a curtsey.
    “Is Lady Penelope properly dressed now?”
    “Yes, m’lord, and in the lovely dress you had fashioned for her.”
    He smiled. “And was she amenable?”
    Betsy paused, catching her plump lower lip in her teeth. “She let me dress her, but…”
    “Go on.”
    “She’s clearly not comfortable being naked in the presence of another.”
    “Nothing like you, is she, Betsy?” Lord Westcott winked and Betsy blushed, but smiled in a manner that suggested she considered the observation a compliment.
    “No, m’lord. She’s nothing like me.”
    “Indeed, which is why I chose you for her maid.” He walked over and poured himself a drink. “Lady Penelope has spent her whole life surrounded by prim, stuffy minders. I wanted her to have a contemporary in her service, someone more… open-minded, if you will—a young woman with less reserve.” He paused. “In your professional estimation, what do you think it will take until she’s just like you?”
    “May I be so bold as to laugh at this, m’lord?”
    “I’d prefer you didn’t, Betsy.” He turned serious. “It is no laughing matter.”
    Betsy dropped her gaze. “I can’t see her ever being like me, your