Deceived and Enslaved Read Online Free
had been more reluctant than most, but Willingham had persevered with her and had that very afternoon had the pleasure of seeing her crawling around his friend's villa on all fours on a lead. Willingham himself had dangled her from a chandelier and spent a pleasant afternoon with her and his favourite riding crop.
Maybe if he hadn't had the image of the raven-haired Isabella in his mind, he might not have noticed how beautiful Lillian was. She had one of those angular English faces with very stunning clear green eyes. Her full breasts pushed out the black polo-neck sweater she was wearing, and her shortish skirt revealed a pair of very shapely legs. But it was most definitely the hair that Willingham noticed, parted in the centre, jet black, wavy and shoulder-length, just like Isabella's; and maybe something in her countenance suggested that she might be of an equally submissive nature.
'You must be Lillian?' Willingham asked cordially.
'Yes, and you're Lord Willingham.'
'Please, call me Lance. Could we have a brief chat?'
'Of course.'
Willingham was an imposing figure, a bulky but solid man, tall with a firm chest and thick broad arms. He could have passed for a man ten years younger.
He ushered her in to his impressively decorated private study on the first floor.
'So, you're writing James's biography?' Willingham asked seating himself on an armchair while Lillian sat on the sofa.
'Yes, I am.' The room was as stunning as all the others she had seen in the house. The walls were painted terracotta and the high coves had delectable carvings of exotic birds and fruit.
'What attracted you to writing about James?' Willingham continued, his tone curious and polite.
She had known something about Willingham of course. He had gained his peerage for being an outstanding patron of the arts and for the various scholarships and grants he had awarded to young artists. There had been one or two questions raised about dubious share dealings but he had weathered all scandals without any great taint being attached to him, and he had a reputation for being a man of high intelligence and admirable wit. Lillian also knew that Hyde-Lee had abandoned his Roman apartment and gone to live with his wealthier brother after the death of Lucille Clifton, Hyde-Lee's wife.
'Well, I love his work and he's such a respected writer,' Lillian said enthusiastically, turning her attention to Willingham's question.
'You do realize that you have a hard task on your hands. Just about everything that is really interesting about James, he has already written about,' Willingham said nonchalantly.
His eyes rested uncomfortably on her, making Lillian feel nervous.
'Well, it's my job to find other angles, other viewpoints, to write my version of events,' Lillian answered, picking up on the slight dismissiveness of Willingham's comment.
Willingham paused momentarily, then leaned towards Lillian. 'There is just one thing, Miss Simpson...'
'Yes?'
'I hope you will respect my brother's privacy.' His eyes were smiling now, but his words were forcefully clipped, almost strident. His hands clenched tight as he spoke.
'I know my obligations,' Lillian responded with a defensive brusqueness. She did not understand why Willingham should be so suspicious of her intentions.
'I'm sure you do, Miss Simpson, but people like you have it in your power to sully many people's lives. I wouldn't like to see James...' Willingham paused momentarily, his penetrating gaze staying firmly on Lillian.
'You talk about him as if he has lots of secrets,' Lillian interrupted, annoyed by Willingham's insinuations.
'No, it's only that we live in an age where personal privacy no longer seems to be private property.'
'I'm not that sort of writer,' Lillian said indignantly picking up on Willingham's inference.
'I'm sure you're not, but just remember...' Here Willingham hesitated.
'Remember what?'
'That a man's reputation is at stake here.'
'I only want to write something to
Maybe if he hadn't had the image of the raven-haired Isabella in his mind, he might not have noticed how beautiful Lillian was. She had one of those angular English faces with very stunning clear green eyes. Her full breasts pushed out the black polo-neck sweater she was wearing, and her shortish skirt revealed a pair of very shapely legs. But it was most definitely the hair that Willingham noticed, parted in the centre, jet black, wavy and shoulder-length, just like Isabella's; and maybe something in her countenance suggested that she might be of an equally submissive nature.
'You must be Lillian?' Willingham asked cordially.
'Yes, and you're Lord Willingham.'
'Please, call me Lance. Could we have a brief chat?'
'Of course.'
Willingham was an imposing figure, a bulky but solid man, tall with a firm chest and thick broad arms. He could have passed for a man ten years younger.
He ushered her in to his impressively decorated private study on the first floor.
'So, you're writing James's biography?' Willingham asked seating himself on an armchair while Lillian sat on the sofa.
'Yes, I am.' The room was as stunning as all the others she had seen in the house. The walls were painted terracotta and the high coves had delectable carvings of exotic birds and fruit.
'What attracted you to writing about James?' Willingham continued, his tone curious and polite.
She had known something about Willingham of course. He had gained his peerage for being an outstanding patron of the arts and for the various scholarships and grants he had awarded to young artists. There had been one or two questions raised about dubious share dealings but he had weathered all scandals without any great taint being attached to him, and he had a reputation for being a man of high intelligence and admirable wit. Lillian also knew that Hyde-Lee had abandoned his Roman apartment and gone to live with his wealthier brother after the death of Lucille Clifton, Hyde-Lee's wife.
'Well, I love his work and he's such a respected writer,' Lillian said enthusiastically, turning her attention to Willingham's question.
'You do realize that you have a hard task on your hands. Just about everything that is really interesting about James, he has already written about,' Willingham said nonchalantly.
His eyes rested uncomfortably on her, making Lillian feel nervous.
'Well, it's my job to find other angles, other viewpoints, to write my version of events,' Lillian answered, picking up on the slight dismissiveness of Willingham's comment.
Willingham paused momentarily, then leaned towards Lillian. 'There is just one thing, Miss Simpson...'
'Yes?'
'I hope you will respect my brother's privacy.' His eyes were smiling now, but his words were forcefully clipped, almost strident. His hands clenched tight as he spoke.
'I know my obligations,' Lillian responded with a defensive brusqueness. She did not understand why Willingham should be so suspicious of her intentions.
'I'm sure you do, Miss Simpson, but people like you have it in your power to sully many people's lives. I wouldn't like to see James...' Willingham paused momentarily, his penetrating gaze staying firmly on Lillian.
'You talk about him as if he has lots of secrets,' Lillian interrupted, annoyed by Willingham's insinuations.
'No, it's only that we live in an age where personal privacy no longer seems to be private property.'
'I'm not that sort of writer,' Lillian said indignantly picking up on Willingham's inference.
'I'm sure you're not, but just remember...' Here Willingham hesitated.
'Remember what?'
'That a man's reputation is at stake here.'
'I only want to write something to
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