"Ouch!"

"Hold still, milady," the seamstress, a woman of dubious age called Elspeth, told her.  "The more you twist, the more the pins slip and prick your skin.  And then you bleed on the silk."

"You'd never notice it," Buffy muttered under her breath, standing straight and still while the woman finished tucking and pinning.

"Now," Elspeth said.  "Is this to your liking?"

Buffy studied her reflection in the mirror.  Yet again, she wondered who the woman staring back at her truly was.  Draped in yards of satin, silk and velvet, the reflection before her looked so elegant and refined that Buffy was unable to believe it was hers.

"Very much so," Angelus answered the seamstress, studying his lover.  The ivory colored silk of the bodice was offset by jade velvet edging, the same velvet that formed the overskirt which fell in waves over the emerald satin underskirt and cream petticoats.  Pleased with the basics, he focused on the décolletage; it was tight, low-cut, and showed quite a bit of rosy skin.  There were no sleeves to speak of, only loops of jade colored chiffon that circled her arms at the junction of her shoulders before promptly disappearing into the bodice.

All in all, he thought as he rose to his feet, an incomparable sight.

Buffy tensed as he came to stand in front of her, her breathing coming in shorter spurts.  He smiled slightly, acknowledging her reaction to his presence.  She bit the inside of her cheek as he ran a finger along the cut of the bodice, not realizing until that moment how low it really was.  His fingers were barely an inch above her now hard nipples, and Buffy stifled back a moan as he trailed the tips along the front of the silk.  Bastard, she thought, he knows what he does to me ...

Angelus smirked as he caught the scent of Buffy's distinctive arousal and discretely tweaked the hard nubs beneath the silk.  Buffy hissed softly, her eyes flashing as if daring him to do more in Elspeth's presence.  The smirk grew, and his dark eyes flared with lust.

"The bodice is so tight," he said, directing his comments towards the seamstress.  "What of a corset?"

Elspeth frowned, unused to men being present during a fitting, much less questioning the process.  Shaking it off as an eccentricity, she answered, "There is no need for a corset, my lord.  The stays are a part of the bodice, which is why the lines are so smooth despite the snug fit."

"Indeed," he murmured.  "How convenient."

The seamstress disregarded his words, instead concentrating on gathering her supplies as a maid entered to assist in removing the dress.  As she folded the heavy material into the protective covering, she studiously ignored the fact that his Lordship had not left the room and apparently had no intention of doing so.  Curiouser and curiouser, this household, she thought.  But if he was willing to provide her transportation to and from the City, and pay triple the cost of the work to have the dress on such short notice, she was willing to accept any eccentricities.

"I thank you for your assistance, Madame," Angelus told the seamstress.

"I am quite glad to be of service, my lord," she said in response.  "The alterations will be made posthaste, and the dress returned to you in three days time."

"Excellent," he smiled.  "Magnus will see you out."

As soon as the butler had escorted the seamstress out, Buffy narrowed her eyes at Angelus and asked, "What the hell was that about?"

"Such language," he tsked, stalking her around the room.  "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean!  Why were you teasing me like that?" she demanded.

"Buffy, my precious, you still have so very much to learn," he told her as he stepped around the lounge.  "I could have taken you in front of her, and you wouldn't have cared.  In fact, you would have wanted more."

Buffy's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in astonishment.  Taking advantage of her momentary shock he pressed his advantage, crushing her against the wall and ravaging her mouth with his own.  As their tongues dueled, stroking and entwining, Angelus pushed the robe she was wearing off her shoulders.  The heavy linen brocade caught at her hips but was soon nothing more than a puddle at her feet.

Sweet, she was so sweet, he thought, nibbling on her neck.  Her skin was as succulent as a ripe peach, and her blood spicier than the best wine.  His otherself must have been a fool to give her up; he could not begin to imagine willingly depriving himself of her presence.

As his hands slid down her shoulders, caressing her trembling flesh, Buffy tipped her head back and whimpered.  Yes, she might very well have let him take her in front of the seamstress.  His touches were so knowing, so damn precise, and it seemed he knew her body better than she did.  It was as if she was made for him ...

Buffy moaned when he suddenly pulled away, bereft of his touch.  He growled, struggling with the fastenings of his trousers, and she eagerly assisted him by ripping away his shirt.  Buffy crooned as her nipples rubbed against the hard, cool flesh of his chest and squeaked when he lifted her up and pressed her back against the wall.

"Wrap your legs around me," he rasped, fangs scraping her throat.  Moaning, Buffy lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, eliciting a growl of approval from her lover, and he slid inside her tight, wet sheath with one sure thrust that caused her to scream.  She soon found that the new position afforded them both exquisite pleasure, and with a snarl he buried his face in her neck, pounding into her with enough force to rattle the wall.  Over and over again he thrust inside, his punishing rhythm bringing tears to her eyes even as ecstasy mounted.

Buffy knew every thrust was touching the mouth of her womb, driving her against the wall so hard that she knew she'd have a mass of bruises later.  His body dominated hers, holding her still as he drove into her, his teeth clamped on her neck.  Oh, yes, she thought hazily, he knew her only too well.  Buffy moaned loudly as she approached her crisis, her silken walls clamping down on his shaft, milking him as the first tremors of her orgasm began.

"Angelus!" she screamed as she exploded around him.

Hearing her scream his name as she tipped over into her orgasm, Angelus increased his tempo, driving towards his own release.  When he felt the telltale tightening in his loins, he buried his fangs in the curve of her neck.  Mine, all mine, he thought, her sweet blood sweeping over his tongue as he came, spilling himself inside her.

Shaking in satiation Buffy collapsed in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder and nearly purring.  Angelus carefully shifted, then settled them both on a nearby couch, snagging a coverlet from its back to protect his trembling lover.  They lay entwined, Buffy resting on his chest, for several minutes before she lifted her head to look at her vampiric lover.

"That was fun," she murmured, her eyes gleaming.  "Can we do it again?"

And we did.  Four more times, actually, before William realized he was being left out.  Then there was two more times with the two of them ...  Do you have any idea how good it feels to have both of them pounding into you at the same time, without any mercy?  The feel of their fangs embedded in your throat, taking your blood, making you come on both their cocks?

Err, I guess you might not ...

I really shouldn't be telling you this.  But who else can I talk to?

"Louise Cavendish."

Buffy raised her eyebrows, a curious expression on her face.  "Which one was she again?"

Angelus frowned, and William tried to hide a grin.  Buffy dropped her head to the table top and banged it against the polished mahogany.  Again.  And again.

"She's the tall redhead you met when we went to see Lady Irving," William told her.

"Oh, her," Buffy said, a picture of Lady Louise surfacing from the recesses of her memory.  The older woman was approximately thirty-five, had been elegantly attired and seemed completely self-assured and utterly at ease.  She was also rather formidable.  All things Buffy was not.

Angelus scowled at his Childe before returning his attention to Buffy.  "Lady Charlotte Louise Seymour Cavendish is the daughter of an Earl, the widow of an influential member of Parliament, and has the ear of the Queen and her family.  Even now she wields an incredible amount of power and influence ... and she's expressed an interest in *you.*"

"What!?" Buffy started.

"It seems that in announcing my marriage I caught quite a bit of attention.  Everyone is interested in my young, unknown bride," Angelus told her, sounding a bit annoyed.

Buffy's face reflected a myriad of emotions -- fear, shock, amusement, and underneath it all, pleasure.  Pleasure that someone was interested in her, amusement that someone had one upped Angelus ... and fear of the unknown.

William glanced at his Sire, who was studying Buffy's reactions.  Correctly interpreting her expression, Angelus continued.  "She sent a message to me earlier today, in which she states that she would be very much appreciative if you could join her tomorrow for a day outing to the shops, and a light luncheon.  Seeing that there are certain articles that you need that must be purchased during the day, I accepted her invitation."

"And why don't I get a say in this?" Buffy demanded.

Angelus narrowed his eyes.  "We've discussed this, my love.  This is your home now, and you must adapt to not only vampire traditions, but to the human society we inhabit.  An outing with Louise Cavendish will go a long way in introducing you to society before the Duke's soiree next month."

"So," he concluded.  "Christabel de Winters, Lady Pierrepont will accept the invitation.  Besides, you can use the time to peruse the shops and pick up any odds and ends you still need ... or anything else that strikes your fancy."

"Go shopping," William told her.  "Maybe then you'll stop stealing my razor."

Shopping with Louise, as she insisted on being called, was a lot like shopping with Cordelia.  Or rather, an older Cordelia with an unlimited cash supply and credit line and absolutely no tact -- in private.  By luncheon Buffy's cheeks were flaming.

"They're mostly hypocrites," she told Buffy bluntly.  "Most of London society says one thing, then does another.  Not one couple shares a bed, but they frequently take their neighbor's spouse as a lover.  And then in public they are prudes.  It's so ridiculous it's amusing.  I can get away with what I please because of my money and my connections, my dear, so stay close, pay attention and soon you will know all you need to in order to NOT look like a gaping, gawking innocent."

Buffy frowned at the characterization and started to open her mouth, but Louise cut her off.

"Oh, my dear Christabel -- may I call you Bella?  Christabel is so formal."

"Of course," Buffy had barely murmured her acceptance before Louise continued.

"You are still rather innocent, not that innocence is a flaw, so to speak ... "  Louise trailed off for a moment, her gray eyes full of sympathy as she looked at the young blonde before her.  She had seen much, Louise surmised, but her recent marriage had obviously turned her world upside down.  And, she noted wryly, the honeymoon had apparently extended into their everyday life.

"Innocence is all well and good," she continued.  "But some of the people you will encounter are sharks of the worst kind, the kind who will destroy you for sport."  And your husband is one of the worst, she thought.  "Have you ever read Les Liaisons Dangereuse?"

Buffy was about to say no, but reconsidered, remembering Willow's mutterings about a book when they went to see Cruel Intentions.  "I know the basic story," she said vaguely.

"Mmmm."  Louise studied the young woman again.  "Do you?"

Buffy sat up straight and meet the older woman's eyes.  "Yes, I do."

Good, Louise thought, she does have a spine underneath that silk; now all she needs is an education.  Nodding, she continued.  "Bella, you need to learn about the world you're entering if you intend to not only survive but succeed.  And while I have no doubt your husband could offer you plenty of information, there are certain things only women know."

"Such as?" Buffy asked.

Louise smiled.  "Such as how to deflect questions about your relationship with your husband's cousin, William.  For that matter, about their relationship with each other."

Buffy sat shell-shocked under Louise's knowing gaze.  "I, ah, what do you -- "

"My dear, do you think I'm blind?  Hardly.  And neither are the people you'll soon meet.  I could care less about what you do in private ... "  She trailed off, a strange expression crossing her face.  "Just tell me one thing, my dear Bella, and I'll drop the matter.  Are they good?"

Buffy blushed scarlet.  "I have no complaints," she told the older woman.  "None at all ... "

"Well then," Louise said, a smile curving her lips as she placed her napkin next to their almost empty plates, "let us continue ... "

All in all it was a good day, even if it did feel strange to be out in the sun after so long.  Louise took me to all the fashionable shops and introduced me to the staff at each one, and I found something to buy at each and every one.  I even managed to find a few pairs of pants to train in when we went to Harrods.  Talk about a department store!  It even had an escalator of sorts, though it was different from the ones I'm used to.  The store was, despite its size, very personal.  All the porters, clerks and managers greeted Louise by name, and she wasted no time in introducing me as Christabel, Lady Pierrepont ... and the clerks wasted no time in becoming VERY helpful.

I wonder which it was: Angelus' name, or his money?

Whatever.

When I remembered Will's comment, I asked Louise about razors and promptly got another lesson.  After we left Harrods, she took me to a very small, very exclusive salon and introduced me to her servante aux petits soins -- her personal groomer.  Before we left, my hair had been trimmed and reset and ...

I was waxed.

And did it ever feel good!  Not the waxing, no, not that.  I mean afterwards, when all the stray hairs had been plucked out, and I was covered in a creamy, jasmine scented lotion.  My legs were all smooth, and there was NO RAZOR BURN!

William can rest easy because there is no way I'll steal his razor anymore.  It was awkward using that blade anyway.

But I still miss you, Angel.  And I love you.

B.S.
10th February, 1899

The End