InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked ❯ chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

A/n; This is based on a novel by Susan Johnson. I thought Inuyasha and Kagome fit so well into it, but sadly Sesshomaru did not. My apologies to fans of Sesshomaru. Please read and review.

 

 

Disclaimer; I do not own Inuyasha nor do own characters and plot lines created by Susan Johnson.

 

 

 

 

 

February 1800

 

“Stay a while longer. It's not evening morning. I'll wake the ladies…”

 

“Can't, have to leave.” Inuyasha shrugged his broad shoulders into his coat and stood for a moment surveying the sleeping dancer from the English ballet who'd entertained him so pleasantly the last few days. He slender, yet flexible body was only partially covered by the sheet of the crimson hung bed only a few feet away “Damned tempting to stay though, Miroku,” he murmured, his shadowed eyes half-lidded, memories of the previous night stirred his blood. Slipping a small enameled watch from his waistcoat pocket, he glanced at the painted face. “What day is it?”

 

“Sunday the first.”

 

His head cam up, his eyebrows knit together in a furrow “you sure?”

 

“Positive. Tomorrow I have my monthly appointment for my hand. I never forget about it, even with a cunt like this warming my bed. It's the first, who knows, maybe soon I'll be free of this curse.” Leaning forward across the card table for a wine bottle “And I'll drink to that.” He said with a grin, pouring a ruby stream of first-rate claret in his glass.

 

“Kami.” Inuyasha muttered, beginning to swiftly button up his waistcoat “I thought it was Saturday.”

 

“Miss an engagement did you?”

 

“My sister's birthday.” Inuyasha noted with a grimace; deftly slipping the fine linen of his neck cloth into a presentable knot. “The Duke's going to want my head on a platter my mother puts such store in birthdays.”

 

The dark-haired man let out a low whistle “I cut and run if I were you. You're on your way to Naples anyway. Leave early.”

 

“I promised Rin a trip to Madame La Clerque's. Where the hell are my boots?”

 

“Where the feverish Miss Gambetta tossed them after stripping your clothes from you, near the door, I'd say.”

 

Recalling the young ladies eagerness, Inuyasha smiled as he surveyed the shadowed figure lying on the four-poster bed “She is an insatiable little piece, isn't she? Tell I'll see her when I return.”

 

“If she's still available. Monty's after her for a more permanent arrangement. You could always set her up in Half Moon street before you leave and guarantee her accessibility.”

 

“Not likely.” Inuyasha murmured, moving toward the door to retrieve the boots he'd spied under the puddle folds of Miss Gambetta's hastily discarded azure silk gown. “I don't set up light o' loves.” Nor had he any need, with the entirety of London's available females in hot pursuit.

 

Short moments later he was booted and reasonably attired, considering his clothes weren't crisply fresh, but the he'd had substantial practice making himself presentable after a night spent in some lady's company. He could use the services of a barber, though he decided, glancing at his image in a candlelit mirror. His blue-sliver hair had grown a little too long again.

 

Pulling several bills from his coat pocket he set the on the table. “See that…ah—.”

 

“Mariana.” His friend helpfully interposed.

 

“Mariana gets this with my heartfelt thanks,” Inuyasha finished with a smile. “She's damned good.”

 

“Good enough to make you forget your sister's birthday,” Miroku sportively reminded him.

 

Inuyasha grinned. “She actually can wrap her legs around her neck.”

 

“Most defiantly.”

 

Amusement lit in Inuyasha's eyes. “I guess that worth a tongue lashing from the duke,”

 

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Miroku drolly noted “think of that luscious cunt when the duke id flaying you alive.”

 

“I just have to appear suitably contrite while he's chastising me for upsetting mother. Rin don't care when she gets her new wardrobe from Madame La Clerque's.”

 

“She old enough for all that Frippery?”

 

“Hell no, she's only thirteen, but she wants real dress-up clothes,” he shrugged. “So I said I'd buy her some.”

 

“Before too many years you'll have to guard your sister from all the rakes like us.”

 

“Not Rin. She can take care of herself. Wants to be a jockey like mother used to be.”

 

“Maybe I'll marry her myself,” Miroku cheerfully remarked “Always wanted a prize winning jockey.”

 

“Then you'll have give up all your whoring.” Miroku's eyes opened wide. This was a time of great freedom for men, married or not. Faithfulness was not a requirement. “She's my sister, Miroku.” Inuyasha softly said remonstrated, his hand on the door latch, “She's different.”

 

And with that quiet warning, he left.

 

 

 

Later that morning, at the same time Inuyasha was enduring a rare reprimand from his father, Kagome Higurashi was suffering yet another of one of the countless dressing-downs dispensed with righteous regularity by her employer, Mrs. Totham.

 

“I distinctly told you to keep your eyes down when traversing in the downstairs hallways and not to speak to anyone unless asked a direct question by one of the family. Did I not?”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.” Kagome quietly said, clenching her fists to keep herself from striking the face of the spiteful pompous woman seated before her.

 

“Yet dear Neville tells me not only gazed at him with brazen temerity this morning but you had the nerve to compliment on his appearance. And on the Lord's Day too! I won't have it! I won't have you practicing you female wiles on my innocent young son! Do you understand, Higurashi?” Her double chins jiggled in indignation.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.” It would do no good to defend herself before Neville's doting mother. Her only son could do no wrong and slimy, lying creature that he was, he'd deliberately fabricated an untruth to further assail her position in the household. She's been fending off his unwelcome advances for a month now, ever since he'd been sent down from Cambridge, a disgrace. “I can have you fired without a recommendation,” he'd threatened that morning when he'd caught her coming down stairs to fetch new quills for the schoolroom and backed her against the wall with his soft pudgy body. “Or I can see that your life improves.” He silkily added his breath sour with the smell of last nights wine. “You're wasting your time teaching my two stupid sisters. I can set you up in style.”

 

She feigned innocent dismay and slipped under his arm, not allowing her to deal with him as she wished. She would have preferred felling him with a solid knee to the groin, but then she'd be thrown out to the street with certainty and she desperately needed her governess post. But the pressure of his advances was daily increasing, and she stood humbly before Mrs. Totham rebuke, she wondered how much longer she could resist Neville Totham's salacious demands.

 

“However the aristocracy might disport themselves,” Neville's mother said with a virtuous sniff, “the business class has sterner morals and I can't have you corrupting Neville with your loose, scandalous ways.” The particular denigration of her family was pointed and familiar. Mrs. Totham never failed to remind Kagome that her father, Viscount Higurashi, had gambled away his fortune and his family estate, God Tree, before he died “I don't want to have to remind you of your position again, Higurashi. Servants are to be seen, not heard.”

 

“Yes, ma'am,” she repeated, her submission mortifying but necessary. It had been four years now since her widowed father's death, four dreadful years except for the brief ray of cheer when Sango Castelli and her father had come last fall to catalog Mr. Totham's paintings and offered her their friendship.

 

“In the future you are to remain in the school room unless called for,” Mrs. Totham curtly said her small eyes buried in corpulent folds of flesh, narrowed to slits, raking Kagome's form from head to toe with a chill basilisk gaze. “That should keep your Jezebel lure away from my darling boy. Now get back upstairs,” and nodding dismissively, the wealthy foundry owner's wife reached for her cup of chocolate.

 

Kagome shivered as she walked from the room, whether from tension or fatigue she wasn't sure. She was desperately weary of her humbled circumstances of the constant vicious discipline of Neville's harrowing pursuit. Unclenching her fingers at last, she'd felt as though she'd been wrung dry. Her eyes stung with tears as she stood in the shadowed corridor leading from the breakfast parlor to the servants' stairs, and drawing in a deep breath, she tried to stem the overwhelming urge to cry. She wouldn't allow herself to break down; tears wouldn't bring her salvation, nor would self-pity, she reminded herself for the thousandth time since she'd entered the Totham's employ. She'd survived four years and she'd last a short time longer. By July she'd have enough money saved to pay for her tuition at the Academy of Art in Florence. And with the money Sango had recently sent for passage her dream of quitting the Totham household would soon be realized.

 

Only five months more, she reminded herself, her day of liberation etched on her liver. After these miserable years, she could tolerate mere months. The encouraging thought cheered her as she climbed the two long flights of stairs to the nursery floor.

 

“What took you so long?” Hannah Totham petulantly complained when Kagome walked into the schoolroom. “And you haven't any quills!”

 

“Mama says she's lazy and worthless,” her older sister Caroline sharply said, her grating voice identical to her mother's. “She never does anything right.”

 

Kagome's two charges were small replicas of their plain, stout mother, their mannerisms already frightening facsimiles despite their youth. At twelve and fourteen they were being groomed to enter society where their father's riches would obtain them each a husband of distinction. Vain, self-important fully aware of their wealth, they were difficult to teach and their lack of success with French and the arts of painting and music were blamed on Kagome's ineptitude.

 

“Why don't we take out the French pattern books and practice our list of fashion terms?” Kagome suggested, knowing the girls would much prefer that to lessons in the Scriptures. In her current low spirits, she wasn't capable of suffering through a morning of sulky disinterest and apathy.

 

“Can we have chocolate bonbons while we work?” Caroline pressured, her antennae maliciously attuned to Kagome's disheartened mood.

 

Kagome Hesitated; bonbons were strictly rationed for Mrs. Totham was trying to mold her daughters into svelte beauties--- a task of daunting proportions.

 

“I'll tell mama you ate them all if you won't let us have any,” Caroline warned.

 

“Have all you want,” Kagome said with a small sigh, unequal to another struggle with the ill -natured girls, and perhaps intimidated by Caroline's threat as well. A fortnight ago when the Totham girls had eaten all the candy and blamed it on her, their mother had withheld Kagome's meals for two days. Even with the bland frugal nursery diet, Kagome didn't care to risk having her food withdrawn again. She hadn't had breakfast yet this morning.

 

“Caroline, you find the bonbons then,” Kagome said, her voice resigned. “Hannah take out the newest pattern book with the yellow muslin gown on the cover. And I'll tell the nursery maid we'd like chocolate and toast.”

 

“I want heavy cream.” Caroline said

 

“Whipped,” Hannah added. “I want two cups.”

 

“Very well.” Kagome left to find the maid who generally could be found sleeping in the sewing room next door. The girls could have asked for fried elephant and ostrich eggs at the moment and she would have agreed to order it. After her recent ordeal with Neville and Mrs. Totham, her combatant strength was depleted.

 

 

The two men seated in the Youkai house study bore such a striking resemblances, the ton referred to them as the silver pair, tall, muscular, their blue-silver hair cut mid-shoulder, pulled back in a low ponytail and the lure of their stork, sensual looks exceeded only by their charm, the two men had monopolized the attention of all the beautiful women for a very long time.

 

When they walked into a society entertainment or a club they turned heads. Handsome as sin, flagrantly sinful, they were the bellwether for profligate vice. Their male peers were wont to grumble at the unfairness with which fate had so liberally bestowed physical advantages to the pair but the ladies were only selfishly grateful for father and son's splendid beauty and sexual largesse.

 

Although the Duke of Youkai had given up on his libertine ways after marriage to a young ningen woman, his much-loved son, born of a youthful love affair, had succeeded not only to one of his father's numerous titles but to his vacated position as London's leading rake. And like his father before him, Inuyasha no Tashio was more than willing to oblige all the eager ladies who wished to share his bed.

 

“I don't expect you to forgo a young man's pleasures,” The Duke of Youkai was judiciously saying, gazing at his eldest son across his cluttered desktop, his tone more resigned than punitive. “Except on these family occasions when your mother wants you home. You'll apologize and not tell her the truth.”

 

“Of course.” Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He knew, despite the moderate tone, that his father's authority was not to be disregarded. “It was an unfortunate oversight.”

 

Inutashio No Tashio smiled faintly. “If I'd known Miss Gambetta held such allure, I'd have sent Davis to remind you of the time.”

 

“You know Miss Gambetta?”

 

“I've seen her on the stage.” -Inutashio slivered lashes lowered fractionally -“and at Farley's bachelor party last fall.”

 

Inuyasha sat up straighter, his gaze suddenly sharp. “Were you with her?” His father had been very young when Inuyasha had been born, and at forty-one was still the object of a wishful female dream. Inuyasha was well aware of ladies interest in him.

 

“Do I detect jealousy?” Inutashio's gold eyes held a hint of amusement. “A word of advice. Go to Naples tomorrow; Miss Gambetta won't pine for you.”

 

“Were You?” pointed curiosity colored Inuyasha's tone. Farley's bachelor party had kept the scandal mills grinding for weeks. Rumor was had it there were three accommodating females for every man.

 

“You should know better.” His father mildly replied. “I'm unfashionably in love with your mother. But Miss Gambetta does have extraordinary acrobatic skills,” Inutashio added with a grin. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

 

“Vastly.” Inuyasha rested back in his chair, his smile languid.

 

“In that case, the required abject apology to mother should be an easy quid pro quo.” Inutashio softly said “Although I suggest you bathe and change first. The scent of Miss Gambetta is pungent; apparently none of your amorous play included a bath tub.”

 

Inuyasha's mouth lifted in a boyish grin. “Not last night. There wasn't enough time.”

 

“I see,” the duke blandly said. “I'll tell your mother you'll be down for breakfast. You make up a suitable story explaining your absence from your sister's birthday party.” Inutashio rose and glanced at the clock, his responsibilities as a disciplinarian thankfully over. “Say an hour?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Inuyasha stood swiftly, grateful the interview was over. “Than-you sir.”

 

“By the way…don't take to Miss Gambetta to Italy with you.”

 

“No, sir. I hadn't planned to.”

 

The duke's silver brows arched faintly. “I stand relieved.”

 

“I don't like women aboard my yacht for long voyages. One becomes bored.”

 

“I see.”

 

“You can't get away from them out in the middle of the ocean.”

 

“A dilemma to be avoided,” the duke urbanely murmured. “Davis has my supplies packed for the villa in Naples,” he noted, more pertinent business interests yet to be addressed. “He'll have them transported to Dover tonight. When do you leave?”

 

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“The Foreign Office found you?”

 

“Lord Percy came around. They're interested in the ambassadors' instructions at Naples. With the French marching back and forth across Italy, all is in flux at the Sicilian Court. I might be able to glean some useful information.”

 

“Don't put yourself in danger. Naples is awash with spies and thugs and mercenaries.”

 

Inuyasha shrugged. “I'm more interested in seeing if our estates have survived French expropriation and all the relevant concerning Napoleon's plans, I'll relay it home. Kami, I can smell her.” Inuyasha abruptly remarked, lifting the ruffled cuff of his shirtsleeve to his nose. “It's definitely time for a bath.”

 

 

After his son's departure, Inutashio stood at the window for a moment, gazing out over the sere winter garden sloping down to the road. Miss Gambetta had ambitions to catch herself an autocratic husband like her cousin, the new Marquess of Weyhouse. And while the Coltrans might not mind welcoming and actress into their family, he was relieved to find that Inuyasha's extended rendezvous with the young ballerina had nothing to do with love.

 

 

Inuyasha's apology and explanation for missing his sister's birthday, was gracefully accepted, by his loving mother.

 

“we saved you a big piece of cake,” Rin said to Inuyasha the instant he sat at the table, “Do you want it now or after I show the pattern books of gowns that I want at Madame La Clerque's?”

 

“Let Inuyasha eat his breakfast,” their mother suggested.

 

“You missed out on the bestest ice cream.” His youngest sister Sarah said, “I bet you're sorry.” At five her priorities were decidedly different from her brothers.

 

“Inuyasha doesn't care about ice cream Sarah. He just cares about horses.” Just recently ten, Shippo was thoroughly enamored of horses.

 

Little Sarah's bottom lip began to tremble. “He does too like ice cream.”

 

“I really wish I had some ice cream right now,” Inuyasha kindly said, smiling at his young sister.

 

“Its all gone.” Rin briskly interjected “Aren't you almost finished? Mother said I could have a purple dress.”

 

Inutashio startled gaze swiftly met his wife's across the breakfast table.

 

“She's using the dresses for play honey, don't be alarmed.”

 

“I'm not either.” Rin protested, “you'll take m out in my gowns from Madame La Clerque's won't you, Inuyasha?”

 

Inuyasha's glance quickly slid from his mother to father, decorum at the issue, purple more apt to women to be worn by courtesans than young misses. “We'll find someplace to go.” He diplomatically replied.

 

“Someplace fashionable.”

 

“Perhaps the boys at the track will like it.” Inuyasha suggested

 

“Perfect!” to Rin who was a better jockey than many of the professionals, showing off her new gown to her jockey friend would be perfection.

 

“Early in the morning.” Inutashio murmured, his voice meant for Inuyasha's alone.

 

Inuyasha nodded in acknowledgement. “Would you like to come along to the dress maker with us Sarah?” he offered

 

“Inuyasha!” Rin wailed “It's my birthday present. She'll be fussy and troublesome and into everything—oh, alright.” She mumbled, taking notice of her mothers' stern expression. “She can come along, but she can't cry.”

 

“I won't cry.” Sarah brightly avowed her silver curls bobbled as she waggled her head.

 

“You can sit on my lap.” Inuyasha said “and we'll both help Rin pick out some dresses.”