Duty to Love

by Morgan King

  “Wait, let me explain.” James pleaded with her. “I have a small property near Leeds, left to me by my maternal grandfather. We could be married before anyone could stop us. We could live far away where it would not matter what anyone else thought.”

  She took his hands in hers. “James, you sound as if you're serious. You can't be serious. Think of the position you'd leave Arthur in. He'd have to find a way to pay Father back, all the while listening to people talk about how his brother stole his fiancée from him. And what about me? You say you love me but you'd be abandoning me when you returned to the army. I'd be all alone in a strange place with no friends or family.”

  James eased his hands from within her grasp to instead cup her hands then he leaned close touching his forehead to hers. “None of it should matter if we love each other.”

  Pulling back from his touch her eyes scanned his face with compassion. “No, it wouldn't matter, but I don't believe love is just the feeling of a moment. It grows over time with careful nurturing. I've grown to love Arthur.”

  Despair began to overtake James's heart. Actual tears pricked the back of his eyes. “What of passion? My passion for you tells me I would never want another for my wife.”

  She stared at him, her eyes projecting sincerity. “James, I don't want to hurt you, but I do feel passion for Arthur. I...”

  “And what about me?” he interrupted. “Don't you feel passion for me? It felt like you did when I kissed you earlier.”

  Amelia blinked, her eyelids lifting to reveal all trace of compassion gone, a shadow of fear lingering in the copper depths. “Your kiss was very practiced, and I can't deny I responded to it. If things had been different who knows?”

  Her words infuriated and dismayed James. Her response now wasn't enough not nearly enough. “It was all instinct,” he whispered. “You drive me to follow my instincts, against all loyalty to my brother. At least I have my answer. There is no need to attempt going down on bended knee in a moving carriage.” If he could mock himself he might get through this. He might manage to show no more outward sign of the pain slicing though him before they reached their destination. He could wait and go lick his wounds in private.

  He forced himself to look Amelia in the eye, and he noticed tears had gathered there.

  “Can we still be friends, James?” she asked, her husky voice wavering.

  Ah, the knife slicing him had a wicked edge.

  “I don't know. I honestly don't know what happens next.” James dug his nails into the palms of his hands to keep from pleading with her to reconsider his offer.

  They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, the sound of the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves audible until they came to a standstill outside Amelia's home.

  He let her alight from the carriage without uttering another word. Amelia didn't even turn to look back at him as she stepped down carefully, paused to lift her skirts, and darted into the house. It hurt that he didn't merit that second look, that last-minute show of emotion.

  He watched the door where he'd seen the last flash of her skirts until it was a blur as the carriage carried him farther and farther away.

  A sense of numbness pervaded his body. Scenery slipped past his window, his life moving ever further from him. He wouldn't be able to return. All the places where his childhood memories could be mapped out were here. The people he loved most in the world would be here, and he wouldn't.

  He was glad there was numbness to take away the pain.

  He'd have to return to Portsmouth that very eve. Stay for the wedding? Not bloody likely. He'd borrow a fresh horse. It was the least Arthur owed him. Although thinking about it he'd have to stay sober to make the long ride back. Only then could the drinking and the whoring begin. Technically he didn't have to report back to his commanding officer for another three days.

  That definitely seemed like the easy option ... easier than apologizing to Arthur.

  James knew sometimes he was his own worst enemy, rushing into things, sure his way was the right way. He'd been so determined to get back to Amelia, to try to convince her to elope. He hadn't really listened to Arthur, who'd been considerate really.

  James wouldn't have offered to share Amelia is she'd been his; Arthur had offered!

  It was James’s last shot at Amelia, if he were willing to share her, that was.

  If they could convince Amelia.

  If he could bring himself to apologize to Arthur.

  And if, knowing James had gone behind his back, Arthur could forgive him.

  The carriage pulling into the coach-house startled James out of his thoughts. He smiled as he climbed out and headed for the house. Some things never changed, only if guests were present would Griggs stop directly outside the house for them to alight. Family could walk back a few hundred yards.

  The walk was good, for he'd had too little opportunity to stretch his legs today. A bath would be even better and would help clear some of the stench of travel from him. He'd not even thought of how he must appear to Amelia fresh from the saddle. He doubted it would have made a difference though. Amelia clearly had feelings for Arthur. Was there any point in trying to fit with them? However much he wanted Amelia, the best part of him didn't want to come between the two of them.

  Ah well, Arthur deserved an apology anyway. It would be best to part on speaking terms. This time he'd get clean first.

  ****

  James stepped gingerly into the water of his bath. He'd asked for it to be filled hot, and clearly had been taken seriously, for tendrils of steam danced up from the water's surface. The shock to his skin as the feeling of intense heat quickly radiated upwards was worth it. Baths were a rare luxury, and James intended to immerse himself as long as possible, get as clean as possible, and rouse some feeling in his body.

  The water rose to cover his lower ribs as he submerged himself, bending his knees to get as much of his body in the water as possible before resting his head back against the copper rim. It was an effort to relax, to let go some of the tension that made part of him feel frozen despite the heat.

  He took himself in hand, a familiar action these last few years, a habit when he found himself hard. Gripping tightly he jerked his hand back and forth, no smooth giving in to pleasure, rather a rough pursuit of relief.

  He'd had enough of using his hand for pleasure, had enough of it being the outlet for his sexual energy, his actions constantly fueled by fantasies of Amelia. Even when she married Arthur, Amelia would undoubtedly consume his thoughts, prompting his body to betray him into seeking a physical gratification ultimately denied him.

  Seeing her in the flesh again was only going to make matters worse for him. She was even more beautiful, physically alluring. Her body had filled out, gracing her frame with glorious curves. Curves that James wanted to squeeze and wallow in.

  Thoughts of Arthur being the first to explore her body would fuel both his fantasies and his torment. If it were him he'd unwrap her slowly, touching and kissing her skin as he went, teasing her senses. He'd see if she'd let him keep the candles lit. Arthur he imagined working in the dark, learning Amelia by touch, pressed close into all her softness.

  Faster and faster his right hand moved as thoughts of Amelia's rising passion worked through his mind. Would she squirm and wriggle as she approached the moment of climax? Her hips rising to the hand on her pussy. His cock bucked in his hand as he imagined Amelia's features contorting in ecstasy; it pulsed with the imagined sound of soft cries and panting breath.

  His own climax was approaching, balls drawing tight with the need to expel his seed. James reached his left hand down to cup their heavy weight. It was the final touch needed to send waves of ecstasy crashing over him. He grunted before moaning, “Amelia, Amelia, Amelia.”

  His body shuddered as he prolonged the moment as long as possible picturing the hot jets of his seed splashing onto Amelia's lush breasts, droplets decorating her nipples like delicate crystals.

  In reality his see
d fell into the water around him. It was time to get out.

  He quickly reached for the bar of soap, lathering his body with quick strokes. As he rinsed it off, sluicing his body with large handfuls of water, the contents of the bath became milky. A good thing, James decided, as it helped obscure his actions. The servants might be discreet, but even so.

  Chapter Four

  Poppies, cornflowers, and daisies made up the bouquet Amelia clutched in her hands. She'd raced out to pick them that morning, needing a moment to herself and fresh air to breathe before the suffocating pressure of being made to look perfect.

  As she'd been made ready she'd had to mentally will herself to stand still at least every thirty seconds. Any time she felt a twitch in her toes she'd glance at the clock and focus on the regular, monotonous movement of the second hand until she felt it safe to look away. That was how she knew it look seventeen minutes to lace her corset.

  She allowed herself to be pulled and prodded, her dress poured onto her, her hair teased into order.

  Even once prepared she had to stand, fear of creases causing her mother to constantly steer her away from chairs.

  It was almost enough to make her feel like a Countess. When she stood in front of the looking glass she took pleasure in her appearance. Most days it wasn't something she gave a great deal of consideration to, but now she was glad that she scrubbed up well, especially if it would give Arthur pleasure to look at her.

  The gown she wore was simple yet elegant, a pale pink gossamer silk delicately layered over rich cream satin. Tiny pink rosebuds edged with a hint of green stem were embroidered around the neckline, hem, sleeves, and even the waist forming sash. With a crown of pink flowers also adorning her hair she felt like a gift of nature. She smiled at herself for being fanciful.

  Her mother, obviously thinking the smile was directed at her, gave a rare smile back. “Oh you do look handsome, Amelia. I warrant no other bride could match you even if she were standing in St George’s.”

  Pride actually shone in her father's eyes, just as it had when the engagement had been announced in the papers.

  Both Amelia's mother and father had wanted the spectacle of a high society wedding, but it wouldn't have been appropriate. Amelia had yet to come out to London society. She was secretly glad that it would be a more private affair. The speed at which everything was happening had some advantages. Walking down the aisle of the church where she sat each Sunday would not be too nerve-racking, and the Rev. Timble's familiar round face with ruddy complexion would be reassuring.

  At present she had no visible nerves, though her thoughts were in turmoil. Marrying Arthur did not consume her thoughts. The idea of marriage to him infused her with a quiet excitement. It was thoughts of James that had kept her awake and threatened her composure. Would she ever see him again? Would Arthur be resentful that she'd come between them?

  Her mother fussing at her side drew Amelia from her reverie. “Is it time?”

  “Yes, dear. Come, Mary and Alice will hold your skirts as you settle in the carriage. That should keep them as smooth as possible.”

  If she had a pocket watch Amelia guessed she'd know the greatest length of time it could take to get three adults into a carriage, but at last they were underway.

  The streets intersecting on the two sides of the church facing the town and shops were filled with clusters of people, children fidgeting excitedly and pulling on hands to draw attention as the Whitmore carriage rolled past and through the churchyard gates. Town was not normally so busy. They'd come to see her, Amelia thought. Of course it was a momentous occasion the Earl of Hentonbury taking a Countess, a local lady at that, Amelia, someone many of them knew well enough to take tea with. Even though they wouldn't be allowed in the church they would see her in her dress, and they clearly hoped Arthur would throw coins their way when they emerged as man and wife.

  There was no one Amelia would rather have be a part of her special day, than those who walked the same paths she did whatever walk of life they came from. Amelia was determined her rise in station would not change her affection for all people. If she thought about it she was just amazed that she was so close to a beautiful dream, not just her wedding day, but the future it heralded.

  Amelia had little time to take anything in but glimpses of faces outside and then again once inside the church. There were some she recognized. A few local families they dined with had been invited, and others must be guests of Arthur's. Everyone had risen from their pews upon her entry into the church, and despite looking to the front Amelia could not see Arthur. In order to appear serene with a soft smile of happiness Amelia tried to keep her facial muscles still, apart from a slight pull around her mouth. Really she wanted a glimpse of reassurance in the form of Arthur. The events of yesterday and having to walk past so many eyes at once were affecting her more than she had anticipated.

  Ah there he was, standing tall, and elegant ... yet not as tall as the man next to him. Amelia gasped in surprise to see James. She'd thought he would not come. Or at least had not pictured him beside Arthur, willing to stand witness. She meant to smile at him, to let him know she was pleased to see him, to will there to be no awkwardness between them. That had been her plan when musing on their next encounter, but her gaze was transfixed by the distinctive purple mark clearly showing on his jaw.

  What had happened yesterday after their parting? Had he and Arthur fought? She looked Arthur over more carefully. He bore no signs of injury, and Amelia was quite sure James could have landed a blow if he so desired. James might be the younger brother, but he clearly had the advantage over Arthur in terms of sheer size as well as time spent training.

  She'd have to question Arthur the first chance she got. Ladies might not normally broach such subjects, but that wouldn't hold Amelia back. Surely there was nothing she could not ask Arthur once they were married.

  Luckily her feet stopped moving without conscious direction from her mind when she drew parallel to Arthur both of them turning to face the Rev. Timble.

  “Let us begin?” The Reverend. spoke to the congregation, but he looked to Arthur and Amelia for non-verbal confirmation that they were ready to begin. Arthur gave a slight nod of his head.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony...” Rev. Timble spoke the words familiar to Amelia from the Book of Common Prayer. As young girls she and Francine had played “weddings” more than a time or two. Francine had always been the bride, Amelia being allowed to alternate between groom and priest.

  “...Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

  In their play there had often been an interruption at this point in the service, a haughty relative dashing in to declare the bride of poor breeding, a dashing knight coming to rescue the fair maiden from an evil Lord. But only in child's play, or perhaps a story, could such a thing happen.

  Beside her Amelia felt Arthur move, a subtle shift of balance. Did he turn his head to look at James?

  “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it.”

  It was no secret to her future husband that she had kissed his bother. Amelia had nothing to confess now, on this earth. At the gates of heaven she might be judged, for surely there her feelings as well actions would be known. Amelia wanted to be joined to Arthur. She would never intentionally cause him pain or humiliation, but she couldn't escape having feelings for James as well. Her body responded when he was near, a smile, a skip of her heart, and, since his kiss, a roiling sensation in her stomach.

  Past the increased awareness of her body Amelia dimly heard the Rev. Timble moving on to the part of the service she nee
ded to pay attention to.

  “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  “I will.” Arthur's voice rang clear.

  “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  “I will.” Amelia pushed decisiveness into her voice.

  “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

  Amelia felt her hand being given into Arthur’s, his fingers reassuringly warm to the touch. Looking up to him she found his gaze steady. His next words, he spoke to her, not for anyone else but purely for her, and in that moment they felt like promises. He promised to have and to hold her, to love and to cherish her, and from her eyes to her heart she believed him.

  When he released her hand she took his again gladly and made her promises with equal truth. His smile suggested he could read the truth in her eyes.

  “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.” Arthur’s words were a caress she welcomed, his ring sliding smoothly onto her finger.

  A slight tug on her hand and Amelia fell to her knees. It was done. They were married. Yes the Rev. Timble was still reciting words of prayer and psalm, and yes they still had to sign the register, but oh my, it was done.

  There was just the wedding breakfast to get to before she might be alone with her husband.

  As Arthur led her from the church she spared a quick glance for James.

  He met her eyes and smiled.

  If only Amelia could have a moment alone with James as well. She dared to hope they could all be friends. Her wedding day would then be perfect, and that just left the wedding night.