Wanton Widows: Three Short Regency Romps

by Isabella Hargreaves

  Now you comprehend me. “Ah, indeed,” she answered. “I’m obliged to you, for your services.”

  “You ought to have warned me.” He looked annoyed.

  “And would you have assisted me then? I think not.”

  “However, in the future, I shall be happy to indulge you … at any time, my lady.” He performed a sweeping bow.

  “Really, sir?” She eyed him with speculation. She had been more than pleasantly surprised by his expertise and was tempted. “I’ll let you know if your services are required.” She turned to leave.

  “Allow me to escort you back to the ballroom, Lady Caroline.”

  She turned back to laugh at him. “You might wish to dress before you do so.” She smiled as she surveyed his physique. Oh yes, she had chosen well.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and put on the waistcoat and coat. His cravat took several attempts to re-tie, but he couldn’t reinstate its earlier perfection. She batted his hands away and pushed his chin high, so her fingers could tie and arrange the linen cloth unhampered by his interference.

  “A useful skill,” he commented. “Thank you.”

  “Nine years of practice on my husband, of course.”

  “And are you looking for another husband to replace the faulty one?”

  “Not unless I can guarantee he’s fit and able in every way.”

  He laughed. “Are you going to sample every potential husband that you meet?”

  She flicked a cheeky look at him. “Not every one … only the short-listed ones.”

  “You have a novel approach to courtship.” His smile was wry.

  “Well, the usual one wasn’t successful, so it seemed sensible to try another way. I don’t think you have suffered by it, and you’re not even in the running, as I know you’re married and altar-shy.”

  He strode to the door, reefed it open and walked briskly towards the stairs.

  Stunned, Caroline demanded, “Where are you going?”

  His voice carried up from the stairwell. “To get a divorce. Don’t sample any more candidates while I’m gone.”

  The Widow’s Wedding Night

  By Isabella Hargreaves

  Arabella Linfield looked out the window of the carriage as it swayed to a halt in front the Grosvenor Square mansion of Jerome, Earl Linfield.

  The Earl opened the door and jumped onto the footpath, then turned to assist her.

  “Welcome to your new home, my dear.” His handsome face was lit by a broad grin and framed by his curly brown hair.

  She smiled up at him. “I can’t wait to be alone with you at last.” They had been married for eight short hours. She wanted him. Her parents had made the wedding reception beautiful but it had lasted too long and now it was well into the evening.

  This was her second marriage. Her beloved William had died at Waterloo three years ago. They had been married only six months – hardly time to get to know one another and share their love, but enough time to have missed him ever since. Afterwards she had returned to her parents’ home.

  The front door of the mansion opened and the butler greeted his master. Jerome scooped Arabella into his arms. She laughed in surprise. Happiness effervesced through her.

  He set her down and introduced the long line of waiting servants. Before they could ascend the stairs, his man of business requested a few minutes of his time and Jerome ordered the housekeeper to show Arabella to her bedchamber in the master suite.

  Arabella looked around the imposing space with its four poster bed, its own fireplace, dainty yellow wallpaper and deep, thick carpet. It was luxurious. She noticed the ornate doorway on her right, which must lead to her husband’s room.

  Footmen carrying her baggage followed her into the room, quickly depositing their loads and leaving with the housekeeper, who bobbed a quick curtsy as she departed. Mary, her maid, began unpacking Arabella’s clothing and laid out her new nightgown. It wasn’t virtuous white or unimaginative cream. It was red – uninhibited red – and silk. Her mother had protested when she ordered it, but if petticoats could be red, then why not nightgowns?

  Arabella washed and changed into her glamorous night-rail then sat patiently as Mary brushed out her hair into long waves. Afterwards she dismissed her maid, telling her she wouldn’t be needed for the remainder of the night.

  For long minutes Arabella sat at her dressing table. With a sigh she rose to wander around the room, examining the ornaments occupying the mantelpiece and recessed shelves. The Ormolu clock struck the hour. It was late. Impatient, Arabella decided to wait in Jerome’s room for him, knowing something important must have delayed him. She turned the doorknob to his chamber and passed through his dressing room. The scent of shaving soap pervaded the room.

  The space beyond was a vast chamber like her own. It was lit only by the moon shining through the open curtains. She inched through the unfamiliar space towards the wooden four poster bed, which was much larger than her own. The covers were turned down, so she slipped between the sheets. She expected them to be chilly but they weren’t. She wriggled towards the middle of the bed and gasped in surprise.

  Jerome was already there. She could see his tightly curling hair where it fell in ringlets across his forehead. Why was he in bed already? He must have been so tired after returning from his estate in the early hours of this morning.

  When she slid her hand along the smooth warm skin of his back, he roused from his nap. “Hello,” he muttered. “My goddess.” His voice was thick with sleep. “Where have you been?” He drew her into his arms and kissed her brow.

  “Waiting for you, of course. I thought you were busy.”

  “Never too busy for you,” he murmured.

  “I want you.”

  “And I, you.” His voice was becoming clearer as he woke.

  She kissed his mouth and relaxed into his strong arms. The fresh scent of his shaving soap tickled her nose. At last she could show her love. Their engagement had been short, because Jerome didn’t want to compromise her reputation by sharing her bed before their marriage, even though their haste meant his brother, who was overseas, missed their wedding.

  The silk of her nightgown slipped around her hips as she slid closer to him. He was naked beneath the covers. She didn’t know he slept that way! Her breathing quickened in anticipation.

  His lips were warm and compelling on hers. She responded with open-mouthed lust. Her tongue slid across his lips, begging them to open and let her in. He complied. He tasted of the mulled wine he must have drunk before coming to bed. The spices excited her mouth.

  She slipped her bended leg over his narrow hip as he lay facing her. He ran his hand up from her ankle to her hip. Beneath her silk nightgown his fingers trailed a path of goosebumps along her leg. He paused to explore her buttock then traversed her back in a long sweeping arc. Taking her heavy breast, he weighed it in his hand and lightly squeezed it. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Why did it take me so long to find you?”

  “You have me now,” she said, with a soft laugh.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured. “Don’t go. I want you. But if I fall asleep I might never find you again.”

  “You’re still tired. Let me.” Kissing him, she rolled him onto his back and followed to lie across his chest, her lips exploring his. She crept her hand along his coarse-haired leg to gently cup his testicles. He groaned. Arabella trailed her fingers up the length of his hard cock, stopping to tease its head. She was throbbing for him. His own hand sought her core and stroked her there. She was slick and wet. Desire flared through her body, centred on his hand.

  Strong arms scooped her on top of him. His cock pressed for admittance and she shifted to allow him in. She exhaled with delight and began a slow rhythmical massage of his shaft. He growled in appreciation. His hands continued their erotic sweeps over her skin. Their kisses paused. Tension gripped her and her breathing quickened. Eyes closed, her back arched with ecstasy as she came. She exhaled a long sigh of satisfaction, of fulfilment. She
opened her eyes to see him lying in the gloom beneath her, smiling.

  “Happy?”

  “Oh, yes.” She couldn’t help her satisfied grin. “Now for your turn.”

  He drew her down against him. She felt the light, springy curls on his chest tickle her breasts before he distracted her with a kiss.

  He rolled them onto her back and kissed her fiercely before making her cry out in ecstasy once more. He collapsed onto her with a groan of completion. “My goddess from above,” he murmured. “I’ve dreamed of you.”

  Her expectations were more than fulfilled.

  They drew apart. Arabella sighed with satisfaction and snuggled into his chest, clasped within the circle of his strong arms. She would stay with him until he fell asleep again.

  When she heard his breathing turn deep and even, she slipped from his bed and returned to her own room. In a haze of satiated love, she washed and prepared for bed. Once there, she lay smiling in the darkness as she relived their lovemaking, but her eyes soon closed.

  Arabella felt she had only been asleep for a few moments before the mattress sank down, waking her.

  Jerome joined her in bed. “At last.”

  In the dim light of the candle he had placed on the mantelpiece, she saw his smiling face.

  “God, I want you, Arabella. I’ve waited so long. I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

  He wanted her again! Arabella opened her arms to him. “Mmm. More.” Arabella thrilled to his touch. He ran his hands over her silk nightdress, peeling it from her body in a deft movement. And then she was naked in his arms. He drew her close and kissed her mouth.

  She feathered her fingers down his bare spine tracing each vertebrae until she reached his firmly-muscled buttocks. She explored the plains of one cheek then traced a line beneath where his thigh joined.

  His lips stroked hers while his hands caressed her body. He broke their kiss to suckle each of her breasts in turn. His tongue was warm on her nipples. Each hardened in his mouth, sending a shaft of desire coursing through her belly, coming to rest like a heavy ache between her thighs.

  His freshly-washed skin smelt of some expensive fragrance mingled with that of shaving soap. Its warm scent ignited her senses.

  His lips, firm and warm, coaxed hers open. Her tongue flicked into his mouth to dance with his. He tasted of tooth powder and lust. She arched closer, intent on showing her love again.

  He sent his hands on a slow quest over her hips, where he drew swirls, before rounding her plump posterior - where he gently massaged that muscle. They travelled lower, exploring and moving on. She whimpered with frustration. His hand cupped her before he touched his goal. So sensitive. She shivered.

  He kissed down her belly, stopping to flick his tongue into her naval before resuming his journey. His tongue found her core and worked its magic, until she bucked on the bed.

  He chuckled, then retraced his path upwards.

  She held his hard cock in her hand, her fingers playing up and down its shaft. “I want you,” she breathed.

  “Yes.”

  She drew him to her and his rigid cock slid smoothly into her. Bliss.

  He gave a tentative thrust as he kissed her. She urged him on into a rhythm that gathered pace with each moan she made. The slide and suck of their bodies joining, and their harsh breathing, filled the air.

  They pounded together to climax. Arabella screeched her release until he swallowed the sound with his mouth on hers, before he gasped his climax. “I love you,” he growled.

  Breathless, they lay in each other’s arms, his weight pinning her to the feather down mattress. Arabella smiled into the near darkness.

  They woke again in the early hours of the morning to make love again.

  It was late morning when Arabella woke to find Mary shaking her shoulder. She rolled over and stretched. She felt good.

  Fulfilment … at last.

  She smiled in recollection of her husband’s love-making – his ability to bring her to satisfaction so many times in short succession thrilled her. Jerome’s performance forecast a happy future together. She drank the teacup full of sweet, creamy chocolate her maid handed her.

  Downstairs later, she pushed open the heavy timber door to the breakfast room to reveal Jerome standing before the servery with his back to her. She stepped into the room, moving forward to kiss him. She stopped a step away – something wasn’t right about him. She frowned in confusion. His coat was unfamiliar and he didn’t have his usual immaculate look.

  Then he turned towards her and a look of astonishment crossed his face. She stared at him in bewilderment.

  Then a voice from the head of the table said, “Arabella, come and join us.” Jerome stood and circled the table towards her. Arabella looked from her husband to his double. Jerome put his arm around her and whispered in her ear, “You were wonderful last night.”

  Together they faced the stranger. “Allow me to introduce my twin brother, Jeremy. He returned unexpectedly yesterday from his study tour in Greece, where he’s been for the last twelve months.” Arabella could feel her mouth sagging open, reflecting her surprise.

  As Jeremy took her hand and kissed it, Arabella closed her gaping mouth with an audible snap. She dredged up a stunned smile for him. “I didn’t know.” She turned to her husband. “I didn’t know your brother was an identical twin.”

  Jerome looked surprised. “Did I not tell you?” He shrugged. “Our engagement was so short, perhaps I overlooked that detail. There are twins throughout our family. Our father had an identical brother also.” He dismissed the subject as if it was commonplace. “Jeremy shares our love of antiquities. I envy his freedom to undertake long study tours while I must remain here managing the estate and attending parliament. He’s just been telling me about his latest trip.”

  Arabella’s gaze travelled from her husband’s brown eyes to his brother’s matching ones. Apart from Jeremy’s tanned face and hands, and a few more wrinkles around his eyes, there was nothing to distinguish the brother from her husband.

  Jeremy returned her attention with a perplexed look on his face. “I apologise for missing your wedding. I really had no idea my brother was getting married.”

  “I didn’t expect you home for a few more months. Why the change of plan?” said Jerome.

  “I can’t explain it. Something was drawing me here, telling me to come home. If only I had arrived one day earlier, I would have attended your wedding and all would be well.”

  “All is well! I take no offence at your missing it and I’m sure Arabella feels the same.” Jerome glanced towards her and she nodded.

  Jeremy spoke up. “Lady Linfield … Arabella … I look forward to showing you the sketches from my latest travels.” His look was neutral and his tone friendly.

  “You must show them to both Jerome and me.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. “Perhaps after breakfast you will assist me to bring them downstairs. There are several albums.”

  Why did he want her assistance? It would be polite to agree, so she said, “Of course.”

  She and Jeremy climbed the grand staircase to the upper floor of the house. At the head of the stairs was Arabella’s chamber and she knew her husband’s was to the right, as that was where she had found him last night. She expected her brother-in-law to turn left to the other chamber on this floor, but instead he strode to the door of her husband’s room.

  She halted. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To my chamber. It’s here.”

  Bewildered she said, “That can’t be your room. It’s my husband’s.”

  “I think you will find Jerome occupies the master chamber beyond yours.” He indicated the doorway to her left. “Didn’t you see the connecting door from your chamber?”

  Confusion and horror swamped her senses. She closed her eyes to think. “It couldn’t be so.” She opened her eyes and looked into his dark ones – the same as her husband’s. He looked so like him. “Show me,�
� she demanded.

  He pushed the door open and stepped back to allow her to precede him into the room. Following her, he walked to his dressing room between their chambers and returned with three large sketch books.

  She gazed around. It was as familiar as a room seen by moonlight could be. There was the large four-poster bed and the curtains remained open. When she walked to the dressing room doorway she recognised the now-familiar scent of his shaving soap pervading the air. Her stomach churned with horror. “It must be true.” She looked at him in shock.

  He returned her gaze. “I will never say anything to my brother. I had no idea who you were. I took you for a maid who was more than willing. I apologise most sincerely.” He looked it.

  Her hand covered her mouth to hold back the bile threatening to roil up from her stomach. The consequences were too numerous to comprehend. What if Jerome found out? Guessed? What if she had Jeremy’s baby instead of her husband’s?

  “Do you usually have relations with any willing woman who appears in your bed?” she asked, appalled.

  “Never before. I can’t tell you why I did last night, except that you were a vision, like a goddess come down to Earth, and I wanted to experience you.”

  She ran to the dressing room and opened its far door. There was her room, as she had left it. She slammed the door closed and leant against it. What had she done?

  Jeremy had followed her to stand in his doorway. “I am truly sorry to have caused you pain. I will leave today and you will never have to be in my company again.”

  Desperation coloured her voice. “That cannot happen, because Jerome would suspect something if you were to suddenly leave. And then cut off contact with us … with me.”

  “I will be discrete.”

  “What if I were to have your child?”

  “It is unlikely from such a single encounter, but who would know? As you can see yourself, my brother and I are identical. How could anyone tell whether it was his child or mine?”

  She clutched her stomach trying to still the queasiness there.