by Cathy Duke
He smiled at her now and said, “It was more than good, I think.” He took a loose curl that had broken free of her artful hair arrangement and tucked it back in place. “You are very beautiful, but I am sure you have heard that simple truth before.”
She looked mesmerized. “No, no one has called me that. Perhaps you are blinded by the kisses,” she whispered.
He laughed deep in his throat. It was a husky pleasant sound. “No, I may have been blinded by our kisses but your beauty is there just the same. A simple truth. I am a fortunate man. I will look forward to our wedding next week when we can take our kisses further.”
Amy blushed. Arden then took her hand and kissed her knuckles in a very sensual fashion. His lips were soft and the gesture felt like butterflies brushing her skin.
“Now I must get back to my work.” She nodded and turned to leave and then as if she had another thought, turned back to face him.
“You are distracted I think. You didn't answer my question about your scandalous deeds, Arden. You have captured my interest in this subject,” she returned with more confidence. He muddled her mind. Arden looked at her as if determining how best to tell her his secrets.
She noticed how beautiful his eyes were. She had thought at first that they were a rich coffee brown, but now as he stepped closer to her she could see they were dark green. She looked down at his lips, the lips that had just kissed her senseless and admired how sensual and expressive they were.
“If you continue to stare at my mouth the way you are, I won't be able to answer your question. I already feel the urge to kiss you again,” he whispered as his thumb touched her lips and followed the shape until she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He watched her as she became distracted and muddled once again.
“I fear that if you don't answer my question…oh, my thoughts are running amuck.” She was rambling. He laughed a boisterous deep laugh that made him look young and carefree.
“You are direct, and a delight, I must say. Come and sit again for a moment while I tell you my scandalous secret.”
She followed him back to his desk, where she sat and he faced her in another chair. He was preparing for a storytelling session, she could tell. He thought a moment and, as if he suddenly decided how to begin, his soft rich voice permeated the air.
“As you know, I never expected to be a Duke. I loved my chosen profession and I loved working with your father. It was one and the same. Your father gave me a depth of passion. There was real purpose and a feeling of self-worth I developed that I had been missing from my life. There were people in need of what I had to offer and grateful for what I did. When I had to return to London because my brother had died, I didn't exactly want to take on all the troubles I found with the estate and the duties of running all the properties I had inherited. My life was suddenly empty. Devoid of meaning. I was doing what I had to do, but it didn't satisfy me. It wasn't full- filling.” Amy nodded her understanding.
“You missed your medical profession…and your station in life does not approve of a working Duke.” He looked at her with admiration.
“You are very perceptive.”
“Papa was worried for you. He guessed at your situation.”
“He knew me well. How I miss him and our talks.” Amy nodded her agreement as she sighed wistfully.
“One day I was riding though the farming community and came across a young boy who had broken his arm. He had a rag tied around it, but it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. I went back for my bag and set his arm properly and gave him something for the pain. His family was very grateful and gave me some stew for my trouble. And that was the start of a career in treating my tenants. They don't have a doctor…and certainly can't afford one if they did.”
“You are truly remarkable, I think.” Amy said with admiration. “I wish my father knew of this. He would be happy to know you have not put your skills and talent to waste.”
“Well, perhaps he is looking after us both.”
“I would like to think so. It is difficult for me as an American to understand the shame that is felt by peers of the realm who work. There is such reward in doing so, and it is not the money I am thinking of.”
His face was revealing amusement, she thought. A smile broke from his face and his eyes literally danced with humor. They were having a conversation and not just about the weather. She felt the energy they were sharing and it was a good sign. Amy, for the first time in many weeks, experienced the comfort she was seeking. He listened to what she had to say and he cared. It was a start.
Later that night she was wide awake when she had already gone to bed in hopes of sleeping. She just couldn't sleep. She could ring for her maid, but she would never be so inconsiderate as to wake her maid because she couldn't sleep just for some warm milk or some such nonsense. But a book might be just the thing to help her sleep. She lit a candle, put on her silk robe, and made her way down the stairs to the library. She lit several candles in the library and started her search of a good book.
The room was alight with a warm glow and the rich feel and smell of leather and books surrounding her. She smelled Arden. He spent a lot of time here and his scent remained, just a hint of lemon, sandalwood and spice. She took a deep breath. On the shelves, Amy found many favorite books that she had read in school. But she passed over those in search of something fresh, something she hadn't read before.
On one shelf were books on farming that appeared well read and not dusty as most she found. Maybe Arden had read them to help him make decisions on his land. Amy smiled at that thought. She found a section of medical books and some of her father's that she brought to Arden…and then there it was. A book she dare not be caught reading. A book about sexual positions and sexual preferences.
Her fingers trembled a little as she reached for it and then looked around as if someone might be watching. But it was very late, and not very likely that anyone was up and about the house. Once in her hands she flipped through it and saw what was illustrated. The pictures were shocking at first, but then very interesting. She found herself staring at the pictures in disbelief. How could anyone…the contortions. It didn't seem possible. Then she read. She found it arousing. So arousing that her stomach was full of butterflies and she was flushed and heated and wet between her legs. She closed her eyes and imagined Arden doing these things and the passion it brought to mind made her moan as if it were really happening. It was tantalizing and wicked. She didn't care. It brought all sorts of questions to her mind and also how little she knew. Is this what men went to harlots for? Good heavens… but it might be interesting to try. Shocking. The illustrations were so graphic. She was aroused, her breasts felt heavy and sensitive. She touched herself tentatively and was surprised at the sensation in her nipples.
Amy looked up a moment in thought and spotted the crystal decanter behind Arden's desk with some liquor in it. Arden must drink as her father did. Her father sometimes drank whisky and sometimes brandy. She had never tried it, but papa drank it at night…so it might help her sleep.
Amy got up and poured herself a glass. She took a tentative sip and it burned all the way down her throat. She sputtered and coughed but it warmed her all the way down to her stomach. She sat back down and drank more and soon acquired a taste for it, as she read more about sexual positions and preferences. The liquor made her feel dizzy and sleepy so it was working. She poured a second glass in hopes that finally she might get some rest.
By now she was giggling at the illustrations, but not for long. Soon her head rolled back on the chair and the empty glass dropped from her fingers. The book, however, lay opened to a favorite tantalizing illustration that had created the most interest to her.
Chapter 7
Brightmore Manor, 1830
Arden worked late every night. Sometimes he was called to the village for a difficult birth or a broken limb, but mostly he read his ledgers and balanced his budgets for each business he dabbled in. Frequently he would take a medic
al book or journal to his bed to read before sleeping.
Before putting out the candles in his bedroom, he would put on his silk robe and open the adjourning door to his wife's bedroom and watch her sleep for a moment. He loved to see her with her cloud of silky hair billowing out around her peaceful face. With the shadows of light her hair appeared white, much like he imagined an angel's might be. She didn't braid it like so many women did at night, and he liked it free and tussled. He wanted to run his hands through her lovely hair and feel the texture, but soon enough he would. She preferred sleeping on her side with one hand tucked beneath her chin. Her mouth would be slightly open with just a breath of air coming out. The first time he came into her room to check on her seemed like what you might and should do with a child just to make certain they were all right. But then he discovered he liked to gaze on her and he would imagine holding her in her sleep. Invariably his thoughts would cause problems for him in trying to sleep for himself later when he went to bed. But he would do it again and again without thought of that. It was such a pleasant and magical sight. It felt right having her in this room.
Tonight he had read in bed until he couldn't focus anymore and got up to check on his wife as usual. He opened the door and as the light from his room spilled into her darkened room he noticed her bed was empty, the covers pulled back as if she had been in bed. His eyes scanned the room looking for some sign of her, but she was not there. He looked to the side table by the bed and noticed the candle was gone. Where had she gone at this hour? Was something wrong?
Perhaps she went to the kitchen for something…or maybe the library for a book was more likely. He closed her door and took a candle from his room to start down the stairs in search of her. He passed the stern faced portraits of his ancestors which was a reminder to him how opposite he found himself to them and their beliefs. He sometimes actually felt their disapproval of him. He liked to smile and shake his head in denial of any harm they could do him now.
The library door was ajar and light spilled out. He didn't want to startle her so he walked softly through the doorway and looked around the room until he found what he sought. His mouth dropped open in surprise…and perhaps shock too.
Amy was draped across a chair facing his desk. She was unconscious…perhaps asleep, but better inspection gained him another suspicion. One of his crystal glasses lay on the floor, her finger tips stretched just above the glass as if the glass had rolled from her fingers. Her head lay against the back of the chair, her hair in disarray with a lock landing dead center down the front of her face. Her mouth was slightly open in a sensual pose that was kissable. But it was the book opened on her lap that drew his attention. It was that scandalous little book he had fun with as a young boy. He broke into a smile as he noted the page she had open. The little minx. She was foxed.
Arden took a quick glance at his decanter and saw that she must have had enough to fox her senseless. He carefully removed the book from her lap and shook his head in memory. He noted the page that had caught her interest. He chuckled to himself. That book had been adventurous to Bradley and himself. Not only had they studied the illustrations, but had actually taken it to a brothel and challenged some of the prostitutes to matching some of the positions with some live entertainment. He set the book back in its place and glazed at his wife. She looked properly mussed like she had been well loved. Quite arousing to say the least. At this moment he regretted his promise of a wedding and more importantly waiting to sate his sexual appetite.
He picked up the crystal glass and returned it to the tray that held the decanter of his best brandy and laughed to himself. This wife was quite the amusement. It would not be boring with her in his life. How beautiful she was. How unpretentious. That in itself made her appealing to him.
He scooped her up against his chest and threw her easily over his shoulder. He blew out the candles and picked up his and made his way up the stairs. She was light even when totally unconscious. He began to wonder what she thought of the little book. If perhaps it was shocking to her or interesting. That was something to think about. He had a broad smile on his face as he made his way to her room. Shaking his head and chuckling the entire way, he had not had anything that tempted him to laugh outright in quite some time. He lowered her to the bed and removed her silk wrap. He tucked her feet into the covers and drew the quilts up to her chin. He leaned down and kissed her sweet mouth ever so softly. Ah, she was such a seductive morsel. It was taxing on his control -- that was certain.
“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered. Before turning to leave, he ran his fingers though her thick silky angel hair and drew it away from her face. She smelled of lavender and soap. He inhaled the scent that was Amy. Yes. she would do, perfectly.
****
The sun streaked into Amy's room and the warmth woke her to a headache big enough to feel like her head was cracking open. She groaned as she opened her eyes to see her maid Daisy leaning over her with concern.
“His Grace mixed this foul brew himself and instructed me to have it here for you the minute you woke, Your Grace.” She helped fluff the pillows and added one behind Amy as she sat up with a groan.
“I'm afraid I have a terrible headache Daisy. I don't think I can drink that terrible smelling brew...” Daisy did not hesitate in her goal to put the glass to Amy's lips.
“Now you don't want me to lose my position do you Your Grace?” Daisy asked. “I have selected a dress for you to wear when you meet the dressmaker. Miss Balston is already dressed and she had her breakfast too. She was asking about you,” Daisy added as she watched Amy sip the drink creating a face like she had sucked a lemon. “Now, drink it all or it won't work.”
“I feel like I've been poisoned,” Amy said as she finished the drink and handed the glass to Daisy as if she couldn't bear to touch it any longer. And then suddenly it struck her. She gasped as she thought of what happened last night.
Oh my, she thought. I drank those spirits and that is the last I remember. No, actually there was a naughty little book and for goodness sake, what happened to that? How did she get into her bed? She had no memory of walking up the stairs and putting herself to bed. She blushed as she considered the possibilities. Oh, my.
“What is it, Your Grace? You look like you've seen a ghost,” Daisy asked with concern.
“I just thought of something…I mean I guess I had better hurry and dress,” she said as she kept thinking of last night and that wicked little book. Arden. What if he had brought her to bed? Then he saw the book and …how could she face him? What would she say? Maybe he will bring it up…oh no. How would she live through this? How humiliating. Could she have come to bed herself and not remembered? After all she drank spirits she wasn't used to…not bloody likely. She sighed at the thought of picking up some of the colorful expressions she had learned since being in England. They did suit the occasion.
As Amy dressed with Daisy's help she also thought of the little book and the illustrations. She would never get them out of her mind. How did she get herself in such fixes? It was humiliating. She was hot all of a sudden. That book caused her so much trouble.
Mademoiselle Le Meniere was an energetic woman of her middle ages. She had flaming red hair, a robust figure and the personality to match. Mademoiselle filled the room with a boisterous greeting. Millie and Amy were awestruck and watched the drama unfold. An army of assistants came into Amy's parlor adjoining her bed chambers with fabric samples and books of fashion designs, baskets full of notions, ribbons and laces. Amy had sent for Eva taking on her power as a duchess to proclaim a new wardrobe for the child too.
“Ahhh…Your Grace. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you. Are these other ladies to join us?” Mademoiselle asked as she looked at Millie and Eva, already assessing their coloring and size.
“Yes, Mademoiselle. May I introduce to you Miss Balston who is my companion and my …ah…daughter Eva. Amy added looking at Eva whose eyes grew wide and a huge smile and delight spread across the child
's face.
“It is indeed a pleasure to service all of you. I have brought to you the best fabrics available and His Grace has insisted on a complete wardrobe. It will be a pleasure to design for you. You have a figure that will make my work famous and your hair, it is such an unusual color. I believe I should like to put silver and pale rich color on you, Your Grace. His Grace has specified a bridal gown to be finished by Sunday…I don't know if I will get it all done, but I have hired more assistants and of course, anything for His Grace can be done.”
The afternoon was full of measuring, pinning, looking at fabrics and designs and trying to keep Eva happy until her measurements were taken. Millie matched the energy of Mademoiselle and it was all exhausting. There would be fittings the next day and Amy was not sure if she could bear another session. Mademoiselle was quite opinionated and finally Amy gave up and allowed her to make many of the decisions. Millie was to have several new gowns and she was excited over the colors and styles selected for her wardrobe. Even little Eva would have some new clothes, although Eva was well taken care of as Amy learned each day. Arden was very caring and loving with his daughter.
Bonnets, gloves, capes, camisoles, fans and other accessories were ordered, and even under garments and night rails were discussed and designed. Amy's head was spinning. Every time she questioned the amount of gowns, Mademoiselle would scold her. She was a duchess, after all and needed to dress the part.
Mademoiselle was delighted with dressing Eva. Eva had red hair like Mademoiselle and Mademoiselle was telling Eva how red hair was such a special gift from the Gods and the colors to choose from for this unique colored hair was very important. Eva was enchanted with her stories and guidance regarding color.
Amy dressed carefully for dinner. Mademoiselle had a gown that was partially sewn when she had arrived and was now complete. With her new stays cutting an inch off her waist and her hair beautifully styled in the latest fashion she was eager to see Arden's reaction at dinner. She took the stairs carefully so as not to trip on her skirts. The gown was soft rose silk damask with tiny rosettes scattered around the hem. The bodice was fitted to show off her full breasts that were shown as two soft mounds peaking over the plunging neckline. She had no jewelry, but none was needed. Instead she had a cream colored velvet ribbon tied around her neck. Large white-blonde ringlet curls bounced from the back of her head and barely touched her slender shoulders. Daisy had artfully wound matching ribbon in her hair. The color of the dress made her lips appear the same rose color, her skin pale and her cheeks blushed with excitement. Amy's blue eyes sparkled with happiness as she anticipated Millie's joy at seeing the gown. Millie was to have some gowns that were designed for her dark chestnut hair and darker coloring, but none would be ready until the day before the wedding.