Orley wanted to growl when he was forced to let go of Chester’s hand as the ceremony dictated—he might have even frowned at the archbishop— but when Chester took his hand seconds later, he was soothed once again. The archbishop inclined his head toward Chester.
“I, Lady Chester Rolla Garrick, son of Mister and Missus Imogen Dell and Wilhelmina Ebele Boland do take unto myself Orley Boston Garrick VIII, Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Wilts, Earl of Leeds, Viscount of Cheshire, Baron of Berks, and Duke of Nants, Marquess of Coventry, Earl of Cardiff, Viscount of Wells, Baron of Newton, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Orley reluctantly relinquished Chester’s hand and spun toward Quincy, who held out the ring he would place on Chester’s finger. He placed it on the Bible for the archbishop to bless. Once it had been, he repeated the words as he was directed.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Then it was time to kneel, and Orley winced as he did so. He knelt first, then reached up to help Chester with his overlarge skirts. Once they were both settled upon the cushion, Orley bowed his head and closed his eyes, listening to the blessing the archbishop bestowed upon their marriage and their life, wishing the man had given it to them before they had wed the first time. Perhaps they would have been spared the danger they had endured.
When the prayer ended, the archbishop joined their hands together. Remembering Pompinshire and Lady Lucien’s wedding from the year before, Orley knew the ceremony was almost at an end. He could have wept from happiness.
“What God has joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Orley Boston Garrick VIII, Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Wilts, Earl of Leeds, Viscount of Cheshire, Baron of Berks, and Duke of Nants, Marquess of Coventry, Earl of Cardiff, Viscount of Wells, Baron of Newton and Lady Chester Rolla Garrick have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and husband together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Orley heard the cheer go up in the sanctuary, but to him it was nothing but background noise. He had made a public declaration of what he’d privately known for quite a while. Chester was his duchess, and he loved him fiercely.
Orley rose slowly to his feet and pulled Chester to him, placing his mouth on his husband’s lips. He kept the kiss brief but full of passion and emotion. When it was over, silence descended. Orley turned and saw the prince had lifted his hands. Orley bowed and saw Chester curtsying.
“The palace extends unto you every happiness and its greatest blessing on this, the occasion of your wedding and remarriage. May your marriage be filled with love, laughter, joy, and many sons,” the prince said with a regal nod.
Orley bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We are extremely honored.”
Chester curtsied again as well. Orley squeezed his husband’s hand and turned back to the archbishop, who graced them with a smile and turned to the sanctuary.
“It gives me great pleasure to present to you all—once again—The Duke and Duchess of Whitcomb, Marquess and Marchioness of Wilts, Earl and Countess of Leeds, Viscount and Viscountess of Cheshire, Baron and Baroness of Berks, and Duke and Duchess of Nants, Marquess and Marchioness of Coventry, Earl and Countess of Cardiff, Viscount and
Viscountess of Wells, Baron and Baroness of Newton.”
“Ukiyatazama, yanameremeta. Hakuna limoja lisilo pendeza.
Maua mazuri yapendeza,” Chester sang to Samson, running his fingers lightly across his son’s forehead as the baby’s eyes slowly drifted closed. He continued to push himself back and forth in the rocking chair for a few moments to ensure Samson was actually asleep before he rose from his seat, walked over to the crib, and placed Samson gently down onto the mattress. He straightened and turned toward the door, jumping at the figure he saw in the doorway.
Orley walked into the room, placing a finger to his lips, telling him to be quiet, and beckoned Chester to follow him. Chester checked to make certain Samson slept through his shock, and happy to see the babe had, Chester smiled and spun around to take his husband’s hand and trailed after him from the room. They stepped into the hall, and Chester nodded to their nanny who waited to go into the room to watch over Samson.
Chester gasped when, a few moments later, Orley pressed him against the wall and took his lips in a deep and passionate kiss. He moaned and wrapped his arms around Orley’s neck, lifting his leg to stroke the back of Orley’s calf. When Orley’s hands dropped down to grip the back of Chester’s thighs, Chester allowed his husband to push him up against the wall and crossed his ankles behind Orley’s back, knowing that using his cane, Orley could bear Chester’s weight.
Tilting his head back on a groan, Chester reveled in the feeling of Orley’s tongue lashing his skin as Orley kissed his way down his throat. Chester shivered as Orley nipped the skin at the base of his neck before turning and walking carefully down the hall and the staircase to
Chester’s bedchamber. Chester grunted when Orley bumped him into the doorway trying to open the door.
“Careful, Your Grace. You are handling precious cargo,” Chester whispered, nuzzling Orley’s ear. He chuckled when Orley growled and squeezed his bottom.
“I am well aware, my dear,” Orley stated.
“No, my dear Lord Whitcomb, I am quite certain you do not understand the full depth of my words, for I am certain your reaction would have been far different.”
Orley stopped walking across the room and stared at Chester. Chester merely grinned back at him. The doctor had confirmed the pregnancy only that morning, and Chester was ecstatic. Especially since he had been concerned that damage might have been caused to his womb after his labor with Samson and his trauma with Mr. Hagan. He was happy to know neither of those things had prevented him from getting pregnant again.
“Truly?” Orley asked.
Chester nodded. He let out a squeal when Orley lifted him high into the air before tossing him onto the bed. Chester bounced for a moment before coming to rest in the center of the bed. He moved to sit up, but stopped when Orley began to undress. Chester did not want to miss any part of his husband taking off his clothes, so he rolled to his side and watched as Orley propped his cane against the bed and peeled off his suit jacket, tossing it aside. Chester licked his lips as Orley unbuttoned his shirt.
As Chester watched the tanned skin of Orley’s chest revealed completely, his shaft hardened ever further. He lifted the skirt of his peach muslin gown, put hand to groin, and stroked slowly, not wanting to finish himself off, but merely wanting to bring a measure of relief. He let his eyes move over Orley’s form as his husband dropped his hands to his trousers and unbuttoned them. Chester lowered his eyes more and laughed.
“You are forgetting your boots, Your Grace,” he pointed out.
Chester chuckled when Orley looked down at his feet and frowned. Chester rose up to his knees, crawling to the edge of the bed on his hands and knees, his hair cascading over his shoulders. He could feel Orley watching him, and it made him feel utterly desirable. He paused, leaned back on his heels and unbuttoned the top two buttons he could reach at the back of his gown and pulled down the front, before slipping it off completely as he climbed off the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of Orley and helped the duke pull off one boot and then the other.
When that was complete, Chester ran his hands up Orley’s legs until he reached the waistband of his trousers in order to pull them down. He trailed his fingers through the hairs on Orley’s legs and nuzzl
ed the curly hairs of Orley’s groin, inhaling deeply of Orley’s manly musk.
“Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?” Orley asked, sounding amused.
Chester blushed but merely nodded. He grabbed hold of the base of Orley’s shaft, then licked the head where a drop of pearlescent liquid had gathered. He hummed as the taste of Orley flowed over his tongue before sucking his way down the hardened column. He twisted his hand around Orley’s dick, poking the tip of his tongue into the slit at the top.
Chester grunted when Orley lifted him up under his arms and once again tossed him back onto the bed. He smirked at the way Orley’s cock swayed with the motion, and Chester spread his legs wide in wanton invitation.
Orley limped over to the nightstand and poured oil into his hand, then rubbed it over his erection. Chester lifted his hips, anxious to feel Orley inside of him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip when Orley did nothing more than quirk his left eyebrow and continue to run his hand along the length of his long, thick shaft.
“Patience, my duchess,” Orley directed him.
“Do not give me orders, Whitcomb.” Chester pointed at his lover. “I must insist that you cease your teasing and thrust yourself into me repeatedly until I go mad with passion.”
Orley stumbled at the side of the bed, and Chester covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. He sat up and pulled his chemise over his head. Tossing the clothing away from him, he pinched his own nipples, which apparently was all that was needed to send Orley over the edge, because the duke pushed him back on the mattress and climbed on top of him, then pressed his slick fingers between the cheeks of Chester’s bottom.
Chester squirmed at the feel of his husband’s body on top of his own, at the delicious burn he experienced as Orley pushed two wide fingers deep within his channel. Chester leaned up and bit down on Orley’s shoulder as Orley moved his hand back and forth within Chester’s hole. Chester reached up to grab hold of Orley’s arms, tossing his head
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back as he gave himself over to the maelstrom of passion that collided within him.
“O-Orley. Please, fill me. I beg of you. This fire overwhelms me,” Chester panted.
“With pleasure, my lady,” Orley replied.
Chester moaned as Orley pulled his digits free and replaced them with the thick head of his erection, pushing his way deep inside. Chester felt overwhelmed as Orley dragged his cock almost completely free before thrusting back inside, hitting the sweet spot deep within Chester’s body that made him shout out in desire. Harder and harder, faster and deeper, Orley built up a rhythm that made Chester’s head spin and all thought leave his mind until, before he could warn Orley of what was about to occur, his toes and fingertips had gone numb and his mouth fell open as he screamed Orley’s name. Chester’s torso covered with goose bumps, and the space between them was flooded with wet heat as his dick released a torrent of spend, and his heart tried its damnedest to pound its way out of his chest.
Orley lay down upon Chester’s body, wrapping his arms around the back of Chester’s shoulders. He leaned up on his elbows and his knees and pounded his shaft in and out of Chester’s rectum until, with a loud growl, he released shot after shot of his hot seed deep inside of Chester.
Chester groaned. Wrapping himself around Orley tightly, Chester gasped for breath. He smiled as he felt the tremors working their way through Orley’s form, and rubbed his hand up and down his husband’s back.
Moments passed as he lay there holding on to Orley, basking in the glow of their lovemaking. Though Orley was heavy and it grew difficult to breathe after a while, Chester refused to complain. Orley finally shifted and withdrew from Chester’s arse, causing them both to hiss and groan, before he collapsed next to Chester upon the mattress.
Chester rolled over, curling up into Orley’s heat. He placed his hand on Orley’s chest, comforted by the hair beneath his palm and Orley’s heartbeat under his head. He smiled when he felt Orley’s hand trailing up and down his spine.
“So, my beautiful angel,” Orley said after a long silence, “the Season is drawing to a close. Shall we return to Whitcomb or would you like to journey to the Nants House when Parliament is over?”
Chester drew patterns over his husband’s body as he considered the man’s words. Feeling a bit cheeky, he chuckled. “What if I would like to journey to Tscotland or Tindia, Your Grace?”
Orley’s chest vibrated as he laughed. “I will take you wherever you want, my angel. Just tell me where we are going.”
Chester pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at the duke.
“I care not, Orley. As long as I am with you and our son, I shall be happy.”
Orley grinned. “And I feel the same.” He sighed. “I have never been happier than the moment that I made you my servant Duchess of Whitcomb.”
Chester let out a sound of pure joy and leaned down to place a kiss upon Orley’s lips, knowing it was just one kiss in the millions they would share in their lives together. Chester was thankful he had been chosen to see to Orley in Southerby Manor that day a year before; it had not only led to him becoming the Duchess of Whitcomb, it had given him the love of his life, his son, and the baby currently growing inside of him.
Being a servant wasn’t quite so horrid after all.
Orley stepped into his study and paused at the sight of a frazzled and disheveled-looking Yarborough. Since the night when they had all gone to rescue Chester and Samson, Orley had not seen his friend look so mussed. The man had given his statement to the constable and after explaining to them he had to speak to someone important, to get clarification about information given to him by Lord Woodhead, Orley had heard no word from him on the matter. Yarborough had attended the wedding, but had slipped away as soon as was politely and socially acceptable and had not been seen since.
For the man to appear now, and looking so unkempt, was quite unlike him. But it was more than just his state of dress. Yarborough looked as if he had seen a ghost. He appeared completely untethered, as if he were on the verge of shooting someone and falling apart.
“Yarborough? Whatever is the problem, old man?” Orley asked.
Yarborough spun around quickly as if startled, his hand snapping out from his side, and Orley threw himself to the side, afraid his friend was going to shoot him.
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When he did not hear a gunshot, Orley opened his eyes and pushed himself to his knees with a wince. He looked up at Yarborough, who had a smirk on his face.
“I was not going to shoot you, Whitcomb. You merely caught me unaware. Here. Let me help you.” Yarborough helped Orley to his feet.
Orley hissed and limped over to his chair behind his desk, nodding when Yarborough held up a glass of Tscotch. He accepted the glass and took a healthy gulp. He watched as Yarborough paced back and forth in front of his desk for a moment before he finally slammed his hand down upon the top of the wood.
“Bloody hell, Yarborough! What the devil has you in such a snit?”
Yarborough turned to look at Orley, his green eyes haunted, his brown hair having fallen free of the queue and swirling around his broad shoulders, some of it hanging in his face.
“I am still in shock at the news, Whitcomb, and cannot quite believe it myself, but….”
“Out with it man!” Orley said, rising to his feet.
Yarborough shoved his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back as he exhaled. He shook his head and closed his eyes only for a moment before opening them to stare straight at Orley.
“Lady Galeon and her son still live.”
Orley’s lungs felt as if they were being squeezed in a vise, and he shook his head.
“No.”
Yarborough nodded. “Lord Woodhead told me His Majesty had him investigating the man married to Lady Isadora Gennaro Benedetto, née Davenport, the thought-to-be-deceased Marchioness of Galeon, and Lord Galeon’s friends. Which eventually led him to you and the kidnapping attemp
t.”
Orley collapsed into his chair. “But why?”
Yarborough sat in a chair opposite Orley’s desk. “As you know, Galeon told us that his wife, Lady Galeon, was raised by her grandfather King Ferdinand III of Sicily and IV of Naples, even though her father, King Ferdinand VII of Spain, was told that her mother had miscarried. Well, it seems her grandfather commissioned Lady Galeon to seek out an Anglishman in order to find out military secrets. Galeon was the one she was able to ensnare in her trap.”
Orley felt rage rise within him. “But to what purpose?”
“Nafoleon.”
Orley shook his head, squeezing his hand around the glass he held, then threw the glass across the room. “Will we never be rid of that tiny Tfrench bastard?” His chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath.
“I must go and find them. I must know if they are still alive before we mention any of this to Galeon,” Yarborough stated.
Orley waved his hand. “Of course, of course, you must.”
“I shall send word to let you know what I have uncovered.” Yarborough dipped a tiny bow and spun around to leave.
“Yarborough? Wait a moment.”
Yarborough paused in front of the door and turned around.
“You said Lord Woodhead told you he was sent to investigate the man married to Lady Isadora, but how did you find out the lady and her son were still alive?”
Yarborough sighed and glanced over his shoulder with a resigned expression. “I found out from my husband, Madame Marie-Etienne Nitot.”
Orley just stared at the open study door as Yarborough walked out of it, not knowing which would create the bigger scandal in Tlondon. That Quincy’s wife and son were still alive and apparently aligned with Nafoleon or that Lord Blaine Myerscough, the Viscount of Yarborough, the “Fool of Remmington,” was married to Madame Marie-Etienne Nitot, the beautiful Tfrenchwoman known not only for the jewelry he crafted for Nafoleon but also for playing billiards and a very scandalous reputation.
The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb Page 31