Calamity's Child by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Read Free Book Online

the
daring new opera "The Fall of Neab" opened at Chelsington Opera
House, where her family had kept a box for several generations,
that they should host a party.
    Nicholas -- Lord Charles to most; Nick
or Nicky to some few intimates; and Nicky Dear to one alone -- had
early discovered that the hidden tax on old money was the absolute
necessity of sharing the more public extravagances with others --
and as many of those others as possible. It mattered little that he
found the tax neither convenient nor fair; if he and his lady
wished to go on more or less as they pleased, then these small
payments to society must be made.
    Since he very much wished them to go
on more or less as they pleased, the inconvenience of hosting a
theater party now and then did very little, really, to blight his
horizon.
    He did grumble, of course -- a
gentleman did not like to disappoint his wife -- on this occasion
as he knotted his tie, glaring quite fearfully at his reflection,
one eye on the wife under discussion, who was nicely en deshabille,
and clearly visible in the glass.
    "I don't see why we have to play host
to the National Zoo at these affairs," he said, his long, clever
fingers deftly manipulating the ivory silk. "It would be very
enjoyable, I think, to once attend the opera tete-a-tete with my
wife."
    In the glass, Denora was sliding a
confection of silver-shot midnight blue up over her legs, her
luscious thighs, her delicious belly...
    "Now, Nicky, you know you like
Carrington, and the last time we had Brian, I swear the two of you
spent the whole evening in each other's pockets. I was very much
the jealous wife that evening."
    He concocted a fierce frown for the
mirror. "And I suppose the attentions of Beyemuir to yourself are
only what the husband of a beauty of the first water should resign
himself to bear?"
    She laughed, easing the cloth over the
dizzying mounds of her breasts. "Certainly, it would be, were you
the husband of a jewel. As it is, you must allow poor Beyemuir to
demonstrate a gentleman's natural charity to a matron of limited
charms." She wriggled one last time, emphatically. The blue dress
was a tight, clinging sheathe from breast to hip, where it softened
into a wide, inverted tulip shape, allowing Nora her length of
stride, while still displaying an alluring tendency to cling to her
long limbs. In all, it was something of a marvel, this dress, and
Nicky gave it full honors, gazing into the glass, his hands quiet
amid the intricacies of his tie.
    Nora turned her back to the mirror,
showing the unsealed row of tiny silver buttons; and smiled at him
over her shoulder. "Do me up, please, darling?"
    "Certainly." He winked, the air heated
briefly, and the silver buttons glittered, sealing from bottom to
top. He was rewarded with another smile, as she wriggled
appreciatively and adjusted the fabric for maximum fashionable
decolletage.
    He turned away from the mirror and
reached for his coat. She spun, the tulip petal skirt floating
above her ankles, the silver threads flashing like meteors through
a midnight sky.
    "Do you like it?"
    "I admire it without reservation," he
told her. "As will every other gentlemen in the house -- and those
not so gentlemanly, too."
    She arched a sable eyebrow. "Oh, come
now, Nicky! At the opera?"
    "Rogues are found everywhere," he
replied. "Recall where you found me."
    "Too true! Who would have thought
Balliol harbored such vice!"
    He bowed and went to fetch their
cloaks.
    *
    The party was complete, with the
exception of one, which of course engaged Brian's
attention.
    "Our esteemed Dr. Hillier not here
yet?" he asked, twinkling at Nicholas over the rim of his wine
glass. "Home sulking, do you think?"
    Nick raised an eyebrow. "Now, why
sulking, I wonder?"
    "Ah, you haven't seen the
latest
Magician
Internist
? Mine arrived
today."
    "I've let the subscription lapse,"
Nick said, flicking a imaginary fleck of dust from his sleeve. "All
that learned discourse -- too fatiguing, Brian! Not to