Oliver, wearing just his breeches and shirt, walked quietly into her bedchamber. "Good evening, my dear," he said in a gentle voice. "I am ready Oliver," she responded. Stand and Deliver - Part 3 by Alys

Genevieve stared at the soldiers pointing their muskets at her.

The sergeant opened his mouth to repeat the command for her to dismount.

"Is that anyway to address a lady, soldier?" she interrupted, while at the same time removing her hat to reveal her dark, shoulder length hair.

The soldiers lowered their muskets in surprise.

"Lady Osborne, we did not recognise you in those manly clothes, please accept our apologies," said the Sergeant fearfully.

"Well, this time I will not take further action for the agitation I have experienced due to your extremely aggressive attitude towards me," announced Genevieve in her haughtiest manner.

"Thank you so much, your ladyship," gushed the Sergeant," we are really sorry for the distress we have caused you"

"There is one thing though, Sergeant," Genevieve stated, pausing to ensure that both soldiers were listening intently to what she had to say next.

"Yes, Lady Osborne?" responded both of the soldiers, almost in unison.

"It would greatly displease me to find out that you have mentioned my presence and the details of my garb to Captain Wilcox, let me suggest that you relay different reasons to explain your tardiness in joining the troop. A call of nature perhaps?" said Genevieve slowly and deliberately.

"Yes your ladyship, of course and thank you," responded the Sergeant.

"I will wish you good day and good luck in catching the scoundrels and brigands that would attack law abiding gentlemen," Genevieve announced while remounting Prince. She quickly galloped away, before the soldiers could recover their senses and start wondering why a woman of substance in the area would be riding around disguised as a man.

Joseph Warrington, a portly man in his late thirties, was bored. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon, in his office in the warehouse of Warrington's Grain and Victual Suppliers. Business was very slow, since a very good harvest had been collected in the county and demands for extra grain were suppressed. He took out the ledger and began entering the details of the day's transactions from the invoices and bills of sale. At least there was a chance that he would be able to close early and treat himself to a pint of Fullers down at the King George before trudging home.

The door to the office opened, Joseph looked up to see a very youthful looking man of below average height, dressed in expensive cloth, walking towards his desk. He stood up.

"Good afternoon sir and welcome to Warrington's Grain and Victual suppliers," said Joseph as the stranger approached. He held out his hand for a brief handshake, and then indicated the chair in front of his desk.

"How may I be of service, sir?" he asked.

"My master, Lord Parsimon, has instructed me to deliver this note of purchase to you," replied Genevieve, disguising her voice as best as she could as that of a youth with a high tenor range.

As the portly businessman read the purchase note he found it hard to contain his surprise. The value of the order was enough to pay his bills in total for the next quarter. He read it again to be certain about the quantities of grain and other foodstuffs required, the instructions for delivery and the premium that his lordship was offering.

"These are large quantities of goods and the delivery instructions are unusual, to say the least," he commented," a night time supply, of large quantities of foodstuffs, to various farmhouses, on his Lordship's estate, would take a while longer than usual. May I ask the reasons for this uncommon purchase ?"

"I'm afraid that I am not permitted to discuss any details of his Lordship's purchases. However I am instructed to inform you that on your signature there will be full payment in advance," responded Genevieve in an officious voice as possible.

"Lord Parsimon will pay in advance!" exclaimed Joseph, surprised at such an uncharacteristic act by someone notorious for his greed and avarice.

"Yes, I have a purse of fifty guineas to give to you if you are willing to accept this order," Genevieve explained.

"That is remarkably generous," responded Joseph, " although I will have to consult with my warehouse foreman to ensure that we havesufficient stock to supply his Lordship, could you return tomorrow so that I can confirm our acceptance"

"I have to tell you that his Lordship has instructed me to take this order to one of your competitors if you do not wish to accept today, and deliver tonight" stated Genevieve tersely, rapidly tiring of the businessman's attempt to delay taking the order in order to fill his warehouse with large quantities of the poorest goods to supply the tenants on the estate.

"No, please, I must apologise I misunderstood his Lordship's need for haste," blustered Joseph," I will be pleased to take this order and effect immediate delivery"

Joseph took his quill and quickly wrote out an invoice, stamped it payment received and handed it to Genevieve. She then handed the purse to him. He opened it and slowly, and very deliberately, counted the coins as if he was savouring having his hands on so much wealth. Finally he put the coins back in the purse and looked up.

"That is all in order, young sir. Please tell his Lordship that these purchase will be effected immediately and I would be grateful if you would convey my best greeting to him and her Ladyship," Joseph said, obsequiously.

He stood up and offered his hand. Genevieve stood up and accepted a brief handshake.

"Yes, I will do that. Good day Mr Warrington," she said before turning on her heel and walking out.

Joseph stared at Genevieve as she departed and wondered about the oddness of the tone, the softness of the hand and slightly womanly way of walking of Lord Parsimon's youthful messenger.

"Well they do say that not every man is as manly as others," he said to himself, before lamenting the many hours of toil ahead and the forfeit of the visit to the King George's that evening.

Lord Oliver Hamilton stood alone in the top room of his three story mansion and looked through his telescope and surveyed the interesting scene a few miles away. In the pitch blackness of the moonless night he could make out four heavily laden wagons, each illuminated with a number of lamps, making their way slowly from tenant farmer to tenant farmer on his neighbour's extensive estate.

"Another glass of wine Lord Parsimon?" asked Vivian Hamilton, indicating to her nearest servant to bring a new glass for her guest.

"You are most gracious and this is a fine drop of Frenchie wine, Lady Hamilton, it is hard to obtain these days," said the fat Lord, with a definite slur in his voice.

Vivian heard the slurring and hoped that soon her pleasant evening would be spared any more bombastic stories from the largest landowner of the area. Hopefully another few glasses and she would be able to request Lord Parsimon's coachman to transport the unconscious Lord home.

She noticed that Oliver, her husband, had rejoined the group that were pretending to listen politely to the latest repetition of how Lord Parsimon fought off scores of highwaymen, on his way to Bath, yesterday. Earlier in the evening the brigands had numbered less than ten.

"You were certainly very brave, Reginald," said Oliver.

"I 'ad to protect my men," slurred the courageous Lord.

"There is one thing that puzzles me, though," asked Colonel Johnson, the officer in charge of the Somerset Yeoman.

"..it was touch and go but..." continued Lord Parsimon, oblivious to everyone else in his self glorification.

"What is that, Colonel?" asked Oliver.

"Well, Lord Hamilton," Colonel Johnson began," how is that Lord Parsimon's coach shows no sign of conflict, there are no musket holes, no scratches nothing"

"..and then I took my pistol and shot the fourth highwayman through the chest," rambled on the Lordship of the moment.

Oliver chose that moment to attempt to bring the evening to a close.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your Lordships, I feel that it may be time to move onto the toasts for this evening, please charge your glasses," he announced, pausing for everyone to receive a fresh glass of wine, he nodded at James his butler to ensure an extra measure for the highwayman fighting Lord.

"Let us raise our glasses and make a loyal toast to the King!" Oliver proposed.

His words were echoed.

"To the King!"

"The King!"

"God save the King!"

The toast to the King was followed by one to the Prince of Wales and then other members of the royal family, in order of line of succession to the throne.

There was a crash as a heavy man thumped unconscious on the floor.

"Only made it fifth in line, tonight," Vivian whispered to her husband, " what is he coming to, he seems to be losing his stamina"

Oliver smiled at his wife's remarks and then turned to the assembled company.

"I think it might be wise to conclude our evening now, before more of us lose their balance. Thank you all for coming, I hope you have enjoyed your evening. My servants will show you to your carriages," he said.

After a little time of making farewells and organising the collection of the esteemed company, from the front of the mansion, Vivian and Oliver were alone in the main drawing room. They sat down opposite each other on leather chairs.

"Thank you my dear, that was a most agreeable evening," said Oliver.

"Indeed it was, Oliver, apart from the biggest mouth in Somerset," she responded.

"Yes, he can be irritating, but it was a minor blot on the atmosphere and he is easily ridiculed without him noticing." said Oliver.

"Now I must bid you good night, Vivian, it has been a tiring day," said Oliver.

"Wait, haven't you forgotten the date and the night?" Vivian asked.

Oliver looked at his wife strangely and then realisation dawned and he felt like blushing, but it didn't happen.

"Of course how could I have forgotten, please forgive me, it is the third week of the month. I will of course join you at an opportune moment. Please ask your bedchamber maid to inform me,"

Almost an hour later, Vivian lay waiting in her bed for the arrival of her husband, whom she had just dispatch Iris, her bedchamber maid to fetch. She felt a tingle of anticipation, in various sensitive parts of her body, at the prospect of the pleasure he would give her. Whenever she talked discreetly with her fellowwomenfolk she was always surprised with how different her experiences were, to a degree where she concealed how much she enjoyed laying with her husband.

Oliver, wearing just his breeches and shirt, walked quietly into her bedchamber.

"Good evening, my dear," he said in a gentle voice.

"I am ready Oliver," she responded.

He lay down beside her and kissed her gently on the lips, she responded eagerly. He stroked her hair and then caressed her neck. As she felt more and more aroused she reflected on the other ladies describing being forced to submit to their husbands while she was only too ready to accept him.

Soon under Oliver's expert caresses, with fingers and lips, of her most sensitive parts, she lost herself into her pleasure.

*guinea = roughly one pound