by Fiona Miers
****
The next month passed in a blur of alcohol fuelled days and nights for the Duke of Lincoln. Oliver lost himself in the bottom of a whisky bottle, several whisky bottles to be precise.
He lay his head back against the head rest on his chair in his study and heard his butler announce a Mister Turner through a foggy brain. Why was Archie here? He opened his eyes and was almost blinded by his friend’s gold embroidered waistcoat.
He groaned, “Archie, I will go blind looking at a waist coat like that.”
“I think the alcohol will do more to your eyesight than my clothes ever could.”
Oliver groaned. “Don’t lecture me.” He let his eyes close and his head fall back against the head rest again.
“Join me at the Mossam ball tonight.” Archie put as much command into his voice as Oliver had ever heard.
He grunted in reply. His sister-in-law had more bite in her than that.
“We have allowed you a month to get over that incident with Millington. It is time you attended another event.”
Oliver groaned again at the use of the royal ‘we.’ He could only imagine that Rupert, John and Archie had been discussing him.
“Would you sit down, for God’s sake?” Oliver gestured with his hands, annoyed that his perfect friend would be here to witness him in such a state. Why could they all not just leave him alone to be miserable?
Archie chuckled. Oliver opened his eyes at the sound. It had been a long time since Archie had chuckled like that.
Seeming to remember himself, Archie schooled his face into impassiveness.
“Let’s get you some coffee and then into your evening clothes.”
Oliver groaned, but allowed Archie to order coffee and something to eat. An hour later, he was feeling better and made his way upstairs for a bath and to get ready for his first ball in a month.
Two hours later, he was wishing he had never let his friend drag him out of the house. He had been propositioned by two widows, and a bored, married matron. He could not wait to leave. Why did they not understand that he didn’t want anyone else? Oliver could finally admit it to himself and would out loud if necessary. He missed Sarah, he loved her and no one else came even close.
He was walking past a small alcove off the side of the ballroom, when he heard his name being spoken. Oliver would usually have ignored his name being mentioned by an unknown woman in another room, but something in the tone arrested his attention.
He sidled closer, but kept out of eyesight so that the women could not see him. He ducked behind the pillar closest to them and tried to look casual.
“I cannot believe you and your mother-in-law really managed to run off the new Duchess so quickly. I thought it would take you months.”
A snide little laugh that he recognized very well rang in response.
“It was very easy really, we hardly did a thing.”
Yes, Oliver thought bitterly. Other than everything you knew to make Sarah feel about as welcome as a flea.
“No, really, tell me. I thought the greatest love match of this year would prove almost unbreakable.”
Oliver swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. Was that really how the ton saw his marriage?
Another horrible laugh sounded.
“Hardly. All we did was let her fall on her pretty face. She didn’t know how to organize an informal dinner at home. She didn’t know how to instruct servants and she dressed like a peasant. She found out very quickly that she wasn’t suitable to step into my shoes.” Honoria’s disdain was so obvious now that Oliver could not believe he had ever thought the woman would actually help Sarah.
“But what will you do now?” asked her companion, obviously eager for the gossip.
“Now? Nothing. Oliver is exactly where his mother and I want him. By our side in London, a country separating him and his wife.” She almost spat the word wife and continued speaking, obviously relishing her victory.
“He is so malleable. Nothing like my dear husband, the real Duke.”
Oliver’s backbone stiffened at this evidence of how his sister-in-law really saw him. All this time he had thought she would be happy as his wife, how wrong he had been. He could only imagine how miserable she would have made his life if he had married her. Being compared to his brother for every day of his life? The thought was enough to weaken his knees.
“Malleable, how?” asked her eager friend.
“Well, just last week his wife wrote to him asking him to visit her in Scotland. During the season, can you imagine that? Intolerable.” Honoria sounded quite disgusted at the prospect despite the fact that she had left London for a month to join him and his new wife at their estate.
Oliver tried to recall the day Honoria was talking about, but could barely remember that day. His butler had read him the letter whilst he had been in his cups and he didn’t remember how he had replied.
“And he chose not to go?” The other woman asked, obviously surprised.
“Of course he wanted to go. But his mother made it clear that his wife was just having a fit of the vapors and that she could wait another few months.”
Oliver gasped and then quickly covered his mouth. He did remember his mother raving something about Sarah that night, but he rarely listened to her anymore.
“Oh, that poor woman.” The stranger sighed.
“I know, it is rather amusing is not it?” The glee in Honoria’s voice was obvious.
“What newlywed bride wants to know that her new husband would prefer to be gallivanting around London rather than spend time with her? It must have broken her heart.”
The sadness in the stranger’s voice hit Oliver the hardest.
Was that really how Sarah would have seen his staying in London rather than following her to Scotland? He would never have let her go if he thought she believed he was carousing.
Honoria’s laugh was genuine now. She was truly amused.
“Serves her right if it did. She had no right to marry so much above her own station.” Honoria was trying to sound spiteful, but her voice was too full of the victory of the moment to be anything other than ecstatic.
“But what is it she wanted, do you think?” the stranger asked.
Oliver started to move away from the column feeling sick with guilt when his sister-in-law’s words froze him in place.
“To tell him she is enceinte probably.” Honoria replied bitterly.
“Enceinte? Already?”
“Probably. The lower classes never seem to have any trouble.”
A pain unlike anything Oliver had ever felt, smacked him across the gut. He doubled over, breathing hard. Honoria was poisonous, truly horrible. He’d honestly had no idea how deep her treachery lay.
“Do you really think she could be carrying his heir though?”
Oliver was wondering that himself. Thinking back, he had spent every night for almost eight weeks in Sarah’s bed without her flux. The reality of that hit him like a slap to the face, why hadn’t he counted the weeks? Was she really pregnant?
“My maid told me of her suspicions even before she left for Scotland. They had all noticed her lack of monthly linens.”
Pardon me? Oliver huffed, breathing hard from his nose. His hands clenched into fists as his need to scream increased. Honoria had thought that his wife had been pregnant and had not only encouraged her departure to Scotland, but had intentionally kept him in London so that he would continue to be unaware of her condition?
“That won’t make it easy to separate them if that is what you intend.”
“Well, you never know. If Oliver stays on past the end of the season, she may have died in her childbed before he can even reach Scotland.”
Oliver hadn’t been aware of making any sound. But from the way the two women in front of him gasped and jumped he realized he must have.
Sarah had been right all along. This woman was worse than horrible. She was evil. Why hadn’t he just paid for her to leave? Just because his brother hadn�
��t left her enough money to live on didn’t mean he could not.
He may not feel like the Duke of Lincoln, but he was.
Dammit, he was. With all the power and money that came with it.
“You, my lady will never enter one on my homes ever again.” Oliver growled at his sister-in-law as he rounded the pillar, his shoulders flexing and straining as his arms shook with anger.
“My brother may not have allowed a large enough annuity for you, but I will. You will live wherever you want, marry whoever you want but you will not come near me, my estate, nor my wife ever again.”
“Oliver...” Honoria began.
Oliver growled, straightened to his full height and looked down on her.
“My name is Lord Oliver Dunford, Duke of Sollington. You will address me as such.
“Your Grace.” She squeaked.
Oliver turned and left without bowing, without even a word of farewell. He grabbed his coat, hailed his carriage and headed home as fast as his team of six could carry him.
Ten
Oliver sent a note ahead to his Scottish estate, informing the servants that he would be joining his wife, but requesting them not to tell her as it was a surprise. He rounded the final bend in the road and looked out at the estate he had not visited in over a decade. It was beautiful. Grand and ancient. He had always loved coming here as a child. He didn’t really know why he hadn’t visited sooner.
He was greeted by a young footman and the older, balding butler.
“Your Grace, it is very good to see you here.”
The old butler bowed and smiled.
Oliver searched his memory and came up with a name.
“Thank you Graves, it is good to be here. Could you tell me where my wife is?”
The two footmen behind the butler shared worried looks and Oliver’s stomach tightened with worry. Was she all right?
“Her Grace is walking the rose garden, your Grace.” Graves eyes lit up at the use of Sarah’s title.
Oliver could only assume his wife had found her place amongst his servants, and most likely they would do anything for her.
Oliver followed a footman out to the gardens and stopped when he saw her. She was very clearly pregnant. Why she hadn’t told him, he didn’t understand, but it was clear that the condition agreed with her. She glowed with good health. Her breasts had almost doubled in size and Oliver felt the stirrings of arousal for the first time in several months.
Sarah stopped along the path, bending backwards over her hand pressed into her lower back and looked towards the house.
She caught Oliver’s eye and continued to stare at him, blinking rapidly as though she expected him to disappear.
Oliver inhaled slowly and forced his legs to walk over to his wife. He stopped and bowed to her.
“Sarah.” His throat was tight with an unfamiliar emotion as she continued to stare at him.
Sarah gasped, “You’re real.”
Oliver laughed for the first time in months. “Of course I’m real.”
“But you wrote and said you couldn’t leave London at the moment and wouldn’t be coming to see me.” The hurt he had caused her was obvious now that he could see the black marks beneath her eyes.
“I know. Do you think we could go somewhere to talk?” He asked her, conscious of the many servants now discreetly congregating around their Duchess.
“Of course, my afternoon sitting room would be perfect.”
She lifted her head and accepted his offered arm.
Oliver had spent the journey to Scotland rehearsing what he would say to his beautiful wife once he arrived. He knew he owed her many apologies, but where to start was the hardest question to answer. He had always found that being honest with Sarah about his feelings worked best, but that would mean he would have to tell her everything. And the thought of exposing himself so totally was terrifying.
Sarah squeezed his arm as they entered her sitting room and let go of him. “I’m glad you decided to come Oliver.”
“Was there something in particular you needed me for?” He sat down in a chair directly opposite her and smiled at the shock in her eyes.
Sarah blushed and dropped her head.
“I did want to tell you something important, yes.” She admitted softly.
Oliver’s eyes dropped to her belly that was now barely visible beneath the material of her dress. “And that would be?”
Sarah looked up and her eyes narrowed slightly. “You really can’t tell?”
Oliver laughed, stopped, then laughed again. “Oh God it feels good to laugh again.”
His cheeks ached from smiling and his belly hurt in a strange way too. He hadn’t felt this happy in three months and he’d barely been in his wife’s company for five minutes. How was it possible that he was already happier than he ever remembered being?
Oliver fought the urge to whisk her off to a bedroom and strip her clothes away. How desperate he was to get his hands on her again, but that would have to wait, they had things to discuss.
“I think I can see what you wanted to tell me, Sarah, but I think it would be best if you said it instead.”
Sarah smiled, her whole face lighting up as she seemed to realize his intention.
“I am bearing your child, my lord.”
And there they were. The sweetest words he had ever heard.
Sarah stood up and moved towards him. Oliver stood immediately in reflex. Sarah reached for his hand and pulled it to her distended belly.
Oliver swallowed uncomfortably but allowed her to bring his hand to her belly. That first touch of his hand on the hard bump that concealed and protected his child brought a lump to Oliver’s throat. He brought his other hand up as well and held his child with both hands. The baby moved in response and Oliver felt the tell-tale shift of flesh. Startled, he dropped both hands away.
Sarah laughed, pulling his hands back to her, “He’s just happy you’re here, Oliver.”
“He?” Oliver drew Sarah onto the chaise lounge so they could sit together.
“I’ve decided it is a boy.” Sarah shrugged and set her chin. She was obviously brooking no argument. He didn’t really mind, either way.
“All right. I have missed you so much.” He brushed the hairs at the nape of her neck with his fingers and inhaled sharply as pleasure coiled deep in his belly.
****
“I have missed you too.”
Sarah moaned as Oliver’s mouth descended. His hot, soft lips capturing her mouth in a kiss so sweet and gentle that it brought tears to her eyes.
“Let me show you my bedroom,” she told her husband. Confident in his need for her, she decided it was time that she showed him how much she wanted him.
“We should talk first, about, everything.”
“No, later.” Sarah urged, tugging Oliver faster down the hall.
The butler and several footmen stood near the entrance to the stairs. Oliver opened his mouth to dismiss them but Sarah knew it was her time.
“Thank you so much, Graves. My husband and I will be dining in our room tonight. Could you send dinner up at seven?”
She lifted her skirts and began to ascend the stairs, her husband hot on her heels.
Her heart was beating heavily in her chest. She could not believe she had just invited her husband to bed her in the middle of the day. But it had to be done. She could not think straight. All the tension of the past three months seemed to now be focused on driving her insane with desire. She could feel the wetness between her thighs. Her nipples were peaked beneath her dress and she could barely wait for Oliver to close the door behind him. What had pregnancy done to her?
“Sarah, I’m not sure if we should do this before we’ve had a proper talk.” Despite what he was saying he was tugging at his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat.
Thank goodness for that!
Sarah tugged at her own gown, loosely laced in front to allow for her expanding tummy.
“I only want to know one thing, My Lord,
before you touch me.”
If he lied about this she was certain she would know.
Oliver’s hands stilled on his shirt buttons as he awaited her question.
“Anything Sarah.”
“Have you touched another woman since we have been apart?” She didn’t drop her eyes for a moment, watching Oliver’s body for signs of discomfort.
He actually seemed to visibly relax, his shoulders dropping as a soft smile graced his now calm features.
“Oh Sarah, I haven’t touched another woman since that first night I met you,” he confessed, his honesty evident in his eyes.
Sarah could have sobbed with relief but instead she pulled the gown off her body and dropped it to the floor, standing in only her chemise before her husband. Her nipples tightened further as they pressed against the silk and the warmth of the room kept her from shivering.
He took the few steps that separated them, pulling her body against him. She reached up for him as he swooped down for a kiss so hungry it sent the already built fire in Sarah roaring to life.
Sarah pulled back and dropped down onto her knees, the soft carpet against her skin.
She had spent the last month imagining what she would do to Oliver if she ever got him to herself again. She had planned a seduction based around his pleasure. She would make sure that he never left her again.
Her own body ached in anticipation of what was to come, but she’d happily wait for her own fulfilment if it meant giving him this.
“No, Sarah, you can’t.” Oliver gasped and pushed against her shoulder, trying to step back from her grasp.
Sarah just smiled serenely up at him, and with her eyes coaxed him closer again.
“I can, I want to, please Oliver.” She was all but begging now, gesturing with her hands for him to come back to her.
“But you’re my wife, and you’re pregnant!” Oliver recoiled again with wide eyes and flailing hands.
Sarah laughed softly. “Exactly. My body hungers for you, Oliver. And I am your wife, I should be the only one to give you pleasure.”
Oliver moved back within her grasp, looking encouraged by her words.
Sarah grabbed a hold of his thighs and pulled him closer. She stared at the beautifully erect penis and was amazed again that this was what had given her a child. Smiling up at Oliver she wrapped one hand around the base and pulled him closer with a hand around his thighs.