by Cecilia Rene
She enjoyed playing chess a great deal. The strategy and concentration necessary to best an opponent exhilarated her. Her father began teaching her the intricate game when she was only four years of age, and since then, they’d played frequently. The years had only made them more competitive, and she quickly became more of an opponent. So much that he no longer allowed her to win.
Once in town, their schedules prevented them from finishing a game together. They made their moves as time allowed, often with the other not in the room.
She stood, walked over to the settee, and picked up the book she was reading, pleased with herself. Turning the page, she found the sonnet, always loving the magic and pure poetry of Shakespeare’s writing.
Reading the same line over and over, she tried not to think about the conversation her father was having in his study at that very moment. To think that she would be in a courtship with the Duke of Karrington was almost unimaginable.
She giggled to herself, remembering the rumors that circled him. “He will never marry.” It seemed that society was wrong after all.
It was foolish to still doubt him, but a part of her could not help but wonder, like the rest of society, why he chose her.
“Ah, there you are, Lady Olivia.” Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he came into the room with the duke behind him.
Her father walked over to the chessboard, examining the pieces.
“Lady Olivia, am I disturbing you?” Remington’s deep velvety voice asked.
“Of course not, Your Grace,” she said sweetly, watching her father closely.
“When did you make this move. I thought I had you this time!” her father practically shouted, causing Remington to turn and walk over to the game.
“I wondered who you were playing with. I didn’t know you played?” Remington questioned, looking over at her.
“Yes, I’ve played for years. If you play, I’m in desperate need of better competition.” She held back a laugh at her father’s scowl.
“I’m going to beat you again … one of these days.” Her father turned away from the chessboard.
“I’m certain you will, Father,” she said seriously, trying to hide the smirk on her lips.
He let out a huff and walked toward the door. “I’ll go and fetch your mother. Do you know where she is?”
“Yes, she had to rest after hearing about my near accident—”
“What accident?” Her father turned to look at her.
Livie started fidgeting with her hands, her head down. “It was nothing really, and Lady Julia should not have informed her.”
“Lady Olivia,” her father chastised.
“Fine. A child came running and bumped into the duke and myself. I ended up in the fairway, but fortunately, the duke was able to assist me before a carriage came,” she rushed out.
“I assure you, had the nursemaid not ran past me, I would’ve reached her sooner, and for that I am sorry, Hempstead.” Remington’s voice was grave, his eyes downcast.
“Nonsense, Karrington. Thank you for assisting my daughter. You should’ve mentioned it in my office.” Her father’s voice was insistent.
“I’m sorry, it actually slipped my mind at the time,” Remington replied.
“No, of course. I’m happy you were able to help her. Thank you, Karrington.” Her father turned to her. “Please try to be careful.”
“I will, Father. Please do not worry.” Livie walked over to him, took him by the hands, and squeezed.
“Good, I’ll go fetch your mother,” he said before leaving them alone.
“Are you well, Livie?” Remington walked over to her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms intimately.
Hearing him call her by the pet name her family used sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. She wished to hear it from his lips until she was old and gray. Livie turned in his arms, needing him to stop touching her, before she did something bold, like throw herself at him and demand he kiss her.
“I am fine, Your Grace—”
“Remington, please. After all, we are alone, although I am not sure for how long.” His gaze traveled over her, causing her cheeks to heat. She could feel the warmth travel down her neck to the valley of her exposed bosom, and she desperately wanted to fan herself.
“Remington, please do sit.” She waved a hand to the adjoining sofa, trying to compose herself. “I believe mother wasn’t feeling well and may be resting.”
In truth, her mother said the excitement of having a duke courting her daughter and said daughter nearly being trampled by a carriage was too much. She feared that she might swoon. So, she had locked herself in her rooms for an afternoon nap.
Livie walked over to the sofa with the duke following behind. He waited for her to sit before taking the spot beside her. He then rose abruptly, pulling the small book from beneath him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She reached for the discarded book in his hand.
Turning it over, he read the title. “Ahh, Shakespeare’s Sonnets. A favorite from my childhood.”
“Really? I have never known a gentleman who loves Shakespeare.” She smiled fondly at him, happy that they had something in common.
Setting the book beside him, he took her gloved hands in his and stared intently into her eyes.
“O me! What eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight,
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?”
His free hand moved to her cheek. His fingers caressed her soft skin, causing her breathing to increase. Her heart beat as if it were an African drum, like the one she saw in an encyclopedia she’d seen some time ago. It felt as if her heart was trying to be heard around London.
Cupping her face with his other hand, he continued,
“If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote,
Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s: no,
How can it? O how can love’s eye be true,”
Excitement filled her as she stared at him, wide-eyed. Her breathing came out in shallow breaths as she intertwined her fingers with his. Shakespeare had never sounded so seductive. Desire filled her as she watched his lips curve around each syllable.
He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice full of want and need. The realization sent a shock of ecstasy running through her. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the wanton moan that threatened to escape her.
“That is vexed with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view,
The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears.
O cunning love, with tears thou keep’st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.”
Tilting his head, he leaned in closer. His gaze never left hers. She closed her eyes and held her breath as she waited for his lips to touch hers—finally.
Something bumped in the hall, and they jumped apart, both looking toward the door.
Livie blinked several times. Remington stared at her, a teasing smile on his lips. Removing her hands from his, she straightened, embarrassed by his closeness.
“T-That was wonderful Remington,” she stammered, trying to gather her senses. “How ever did you learn Shakespeare’s sonnets by memory?”
“Mother Di would have me recite them over and over whenever I misbehaved, which was quite often, I’m afraid.” He laughed lightly at the memory.
“I had the privilege of speaking with your mother at our ball. She was entertaining and correct, it seems.” She gave him a flirtatious smile, so happy the older woman was correct in her observation of her stepson.
“Ahh, I wondered how long it would take for Mother Di to pounce on you. Tell me, what was she correct about?” He sounded slightly annoyed. His lips formed a straight line, as he tilted his head toward her in
question.
“You,” she stated simply.
“Yes, she was rather adamant about my feelings for you after we danced.” He took her hand in his, caressing it with his thumb, his lips relaxing into a smile.
The motion was intimate, transfixing her gaze. “If I may ask, what are your feelings for me?” She gazed down at their joined hands, fearing the answer.
Lifting her chin, his gaze fell to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I hoped the conversation I’ve had with your father would make my feelings clear to you and all of society.”
“What was the outcome of the conversation with father?” Her voice was small. She barely recognized the sound over the pounding of her heart.
“Your father agreed to the courtship.” His fingertip traced the swell of her cheek.
Livie couldn’t find her voice to form words. She was now in a courtship with the Duke of Karrington—the Bachelor Duke.
Her hand gripped the cushion beside her as she tried to steady her nerves. She suddenly became hot all over.
“I did ask one thing of him.” His voice was serious, as he avoided eye contact with her.
She bristled, while she waited for whatever the request was. “What did you ask?”
“I asked that you do not accept any other suitors while I am courting you.” His hand took hold of hers. His body was rigid as he waited for her to react.
At first, Livie was happy that he would ask for such a bold commitment from her. It made her feel wanted. Or, maybe he thought of her like property, something to be bought and used as he pleased.
Her mind transported back to a long-ago day. She was reading in her favorite spot in the library when the Marquess of Lynbrook came upon her after a meeting with her father. The portly man grabbed her roughly, trying to force himself on her. It made her feel like she was nothing. She never wanted to experience that feeling again, no matter how her heart reacted in his presence.
Removing her hand from Remington’s hold, she stood abruptly and turned her back on him.
“Why did you feel the need to even ask that of me? What exactly do you think I would do with another suitor?” She turned to glare at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
Standing, Remington rushed over to place his hands on her tense shoulders.
“Sweetheart, it is not you who I am worried about. It is the other gentlemen, one in particular.” He stroked her shoulders trying to soothe her, which she both loved and hated. Loved the warmth and feel of his strong fingers but hated how easily she melted beneath his touch.
“I will agree if you, also, will not court anyone else.” Her body softened under his tender caresses, her skin on fire from the simplest of touches.
“I do not want anyone else,” he whispered. His gaze lingered on her lips.
She didn’t dare move. He leaned in. His lips were a breath away from her own. She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted the Duke of Karrington.
Just as his lips scorched hers, causing sparks of pleasure to course through her body, pooling in the apex of her thighs, footsteps in the hall caught their attention.
Remington hastily stepped back just as her mother’s voice sounded from the hall. Livie blinked several times, feeling like cold water had been poured over her head.
“Oh my, I do hope I didn’t keep the duke waiting!” Distress filled her mother’s voice.
Livie watched as Remington took another step away from her, turning toward the door just as her mother entered, looking as flustered as she felt.
“Your Grace, please forgive my tardiness. I lost track of time, and Abigail accompanied Lady Julia to the modiste, she insisted she had to find another ribbon for Lady Wilcox’s ball. I hope you do not take offense to our lack of propriety,” her mother said in one breath.
“Indeed not, my lady. I thank you and Lady Olivia for your hospitality, but I must bid you farewell.” His smile was soft as he looked from mother to daughter.
“Thank you for coming, Your Grace.” Livie sighed, wishing they hadn’t been interrupted.
“It was my greatest pleasure.” He branded her with the intensity of his gaze.
It filled her with warmth all over, and she bit the inside of her lip trying to not focus on the strange feelings that coursed through her body. A million sensations prickled through her, all leading to the apex of her thighs.
Lady Hempstead cleared her throat. “Yes, you must join us for dinner soon, and please bring your mother.”
“Thank you for the invitation. I’m sure my mother would enjoy that greatly. I shall wait expectantly for the invitation. Good day, ladies.”
Livie watched as the duke exited, taking in his strong form. She wanted him to stay and complete their kiss. Once he disappeared out the door, she turned to focus on her mother.
“Well, that must have been some visit. I cannot believe my daughter is courting a duke!” Lady Hempstead fanned herself frantically with her hand.
Taking a much-needed seat, Livie traced her bottom lip with her fingertips. Her first kiss had been with Remington. The brief moment that his lips touched hers awakened a need inside of her. His lips were full and soft against hers, and she wanted to feel them against hers as much as humanly possible.
Livie took another much-needed breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. She counted down the seconds until she would finally feel his lips against hers—without interruption.
She’s back!
While we all would like to focus on the Bachelor Duke’s obsession with one Lady O. What we really want to know is … where has Lady E been?
The dark liquid soothed Remington’s frazzled nerves. He had done what he vowed to never do. He had entered into a courtship with a lady. A very smart, beautiful, outspoken woman.
Although he was in position of one of the most powerful dukedoms, he found he did not know the first thing about courting a lady. A part of him wanted to end the farce, but to do that would allow Bromswell to have her. And Remington would never allow that to happen.
His mind was filled with her, nothing could stop him from thinking about her hair, her eyes, her intelligence. Loud conversation and an annoyingly happy friend did nothing to steer Remington’s mind from constantly focusing on one thing and one thing only—his courtship with one, Lady Olivia St. John.
Remington’s mind wandered to his afternoon spent in the presence of the most extraordinary human he’d ever known. He enjoyed their easy conversation, how she asked questions about him and did not solely focus on herself, like the small number of women he had conversed with. Walking to Hyde Park, they spoke as if they’d known each other for a lifetime and not a fortnight. Brushing his lips briefly against hers had set his entire being afire with desire. Her soft lush body pressed against his stirred a hunger deep inside of him, as if he were a starving man left alone on an island for months and she was his last salvation.
There was no excuse for the animal that took hold of him whenever he was in her presence, or the need to possess and protect her from anyone who would cause her harm. Livie had given him a gift, permitting him to court and eventually marry her. There was one thing perfectly clear to Remington—he would not disappoint her. He would be a dutiful husband until his dying day.
Now, he had to go about the delicate dance of courting a lady. He stared down into his drink, searching for answers. He wished he could end it while he still had time, while Livie could still be saved from a scandal, but the very idea of not being able to be near her, to stare into her deep gray eyes brought a pain to his heart like he had never felt before.
“I need a drink,” Windchester said wearily as he took the empty chair next to Heartford.
He looked forlorn and withdrawn. Before Remington could inquire about his friend’s disposition, Baron Bromswell strolled over to their table, sneering down at him in disdain. His stature was stiff, his eyes void of any compassion, revealing how heartless he truly was.
“Karrington, I know you were not interested in the little cow unti
l I made my intentions toward her clear. Come now, back out so that Lady Olivia and her fifty thousand pounds can belong to me.” His voice was cold and condescending.
Remington stood to face the vile creature. It took every ounce of his being to not pummel the man. “I will warn you only once, Bromswell. Not under any condition are you to refer to my intended as a cow. In fact, never refer to her at all. She will not be one of your conquests and fall prey to someone such as you. Stay away from Lady Olivia—”
“Or what? We both know you do not have the bollocks to do anything.” Bromswell took a step back, a smirk on his smug face.
Stepping closer, Remington took hold of the baron’s lapel. “Try me, and you will find out just how big my bollocks are.”
The baron’s eyes grew wide with fear as the other patrons of the establishment began staring at the two gentlemen. Remington released him, knowing that Bromswell was only a threat to those he felt were weaker than him—women. He straightened his now wrinkled jacket with a devious smile of his own.
“This will not be the last time you hear from me.” The baron gave him one last look before leaving.
Remington sat only to find both his companions looking at him.
“Would someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” Windchester demanded.
“Is everything all right, gentlemen? I noticed the little confrontation with the baron.” Flynn O’Brien walked to their table. His broad shoulders hunched over with old age, bright red hair streaked with gray.
“Everything’s fine, just a misunderstanding over a young lady.” Remington smiled.
“Our duke here has gone and found himself courting one, Lady Olivia St. John.” Heartford patted Remington on the back.
“Surely you jest. When did this happen, and how did I miss it?” Windchester gawked openly at his friend, utterly perplexed by the news.
“Aye, it’s all everyone is talkin’ about today. Where ha’ you been hiding, lad?” O’Brien’s teased the younger man in his thick Irish brogue.