by Sue Lyndon
Cammie.
He imagined her all smiles and light, with dark curly hair in pigtails or braids. Sitting on his lap and calling him Papa.
The idea of it heated his insides and fired his loins. He had no interest in tampering with a lady who wasn’t yet of a marriageable age, he simply wished for a woman, a real woman, who would allow him the honor of caring for her in a fatherly manner which would please them both.
Miss Wickersham’s charges had all been street urchins or foundlings. Miss Wickersham appeared to be some sort of social do-gooder, which intrigued him a bit. He had ample assets and status and no need of marrying to improve his income or social standing. What he desired was a little miss to be his wife.
Movement outside the window caught his attention and he hurried to take a peek. A serviceable but not elaborate carriage stood in the driveway, the door opened to reveal first Miss Wickersham’s familiar form followed by a delightful little creature who stole his heart in an instant.
Cammie. His little Cammie tripped delicately down the steps of the carriage and looked up at the expanse of Ashton Manor with eyes wide and mouth agape. Alexander stepped away from the window, not wanting to be caught out spying upon his new arrivals, though he continued to observe from above.
She was perfect. A tiny button of a nose, large brown eyes, and a petite, but womanly form. Dressed in a plain but pretty blue gown, which was cinched at the waist and tied with a thick white ribbon, she embodied everything he had hoped for in a bride, and more. His heart filled with affection for his diminutive future wife and he rushed from the room and down the stairs in an uncharacteristic show of enthusiasm.
His butler paused in the hallway and stared at him in surprise. “I beg your pardon, my lord, I have come to relay the arrival of Miss Katrina Wickersham and Miss Cammie Hughes.”
Alexander pushed past the servant and down the stairs, though he forced himself to assume a proper demeanor before entering the drawing room to greet his guests. No, only one guest. Cammie was the other half of his soul.
Taking a deep breath, he strode into the drawing room and got his first up close look at little Cammie, the treasure of his heart. His pulse thudded in his ears and he fought against the huge smile that his lips seemed determined to form. There was no point in being so animated as to frighten his bride or her guardian.
“Good afternoon, Miss Wickersham,” he said, giving the taller of the two women a slight bow.
In return, she curtsied and reached out her hand to bring Cammie forward. “Good afternoon, Lord Cavendish. May I present to you, Miss Cammie Hughes.”
Cammie’s large brown eyes gazed up at him and the corners of her pink lips formed a nervous smile. His heart filled with wonder and awe. How had it been possible for Miss Wickersham to find the perfect tiny angel for him?
He took Cammie’s hand between both of his and returned her smile. “Welcome, Miss Hughes. I hope that you will not mind if I call you Cammie.”
The girl darted a quick glance at Miss Wickersham who gave a barely discernible nod of approval and a relieved smile broke out across the girl’s face. “Yes, I would like that.”
He continued to hold her hand in his, and drew it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to the soft fabric on top of her gloved hand. “Welcome to Ashton Manor, Cammie.”
He felt her quick inhalation of breath, though his lips had been barred from contacting her flesh, and he glanced up to see her face flush pink, but she did not withdraw from his touch neither did she shy away from his gaze.
Miss Wickersham cleared her throat and Alexander broke contact with Cammie. “I believe there are just a few more matters for us to discuss, Lord Cavendish, and then I shall be on my way and you and Cammie may have some time to become acquainted before I return with the vicar.”
“Yes, of course. Shall we go into my library?”
“Cammie,” Miss Wickersham said, “we shall be only a few minutes. Please wait here. Do not leave this room and do not touch anything, do you understand?”
Alexander took a bit of offense at Miss Wickersham giving his little Cammie instructions, but until the final paperwork was completed and Miss Wickersham exited the premises, he supposed it was she and not he who had the final say in Cammie’s conduct and care. It would only be a matter of hours before the wedding took place.
As he escorted Miss Wickersham from the room, he glanced over his shoulder at Cammie and gave her a wink. The giggle that escaped her lips danced across his heart.
* * *
Cammie obediently sat upon the sofa, crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. After the incidents of the day before, particularly the time she spent in the nurse’s office, Cammie had been subdued and obedient, but also eager to explore more about the mysteries of the marriage bed. Her interlude on the exam table in Nurse Lister’s office had been both humiliating and enlightening. She squeezed her thighs together, forcing pressure on the nubbin which the nurse had taunted with insistence until Cammie had exploded.
Forcing her thoughts away from such lascivious and unladylike musings, she took in her surroundings. Her new home.
My, but the drawing room of Ashton Manor was large. The entire estate made her head spin. When they rode up the bustling street she had practically crawled over Miss Wickersham’s lap in order to get a better look out the windows which were on the older woman’s side of the carriage. Now Cammie was inside and could scarce believe this was to be her home...forever. Not only would it be her home, but she would be the lady of the house. Lady Cavendish.
Just saying the name, even if only in her mind, made her tummy flip flop. Lord Cavendish was even more handsome than she had dreamed about. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, but he was not frightening at all. Cammie had been concerned that she might be frightened being with a man all by herself since such things had never been permitted at Talcott House, but now that she had met Lord Cavendish, her papa, and he had smiled and winked at her, all she could think about was crawling up into his lap and snuggling close.
Oh dear. That funny tingly feeling she had in her lady bits the day before...during the humiliating examination at Nurse Lister’s office...returned.
Last night, her final one at Talcott House, she had broken a rule and touched herself. Beneath the covers she had replicated Nurse Lister’s fingers as they moved in and out of her cunny. The release which enveloped her had not been as strong as the one she’d experienced in the nurse’s office, but it was satisfying nonetheless.
Her fingers itched to touch herself again, but such a thing would be scandalous. She ought to do something about it, but she did not know what. Maybe walking. She had been sitting for a very long time, an especially long time for a little girl. There had been the ride in the carriage to Ashton Manor and now she was being ever so patient and waiting for Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish to conclude their business.
And then Miss Wickersham would leave and she would be all alone with Lord Cavendish. Oh no. The tingling got stronger, making a heated pulse between her thighs. Maybe if she reached up her dress and underneath her chemise, a few little strokes to her cunny would quell her sudden urges. She bit her bottom lip, considering such impulsive naughtiness, but soon dashed such thoughts away. What if Lord Cavendish and Miss Wickersham returned while she was touching herself? The very idea of anyone, particularly her soon-to-be husband, catching her in the act of pleasuring herself made her go hot with shame.
Cammie jumped up from the sofa and began to circle the room, careful not to touch any of the beautiful objects that filled the space. The last thing she needed at this critical point in her life was to do something to cause Miss Wickersham to call her naughty and take her back with her. If she disappointed Miss Wickersham and had to go back to Talcott House, Cammie knew it would be a long, long, very long time before she got another papa. Maybe not ever. She might end up having to become a caretaker like Garland, mean and cranky and doing errands for Miss Wickersham and the nurse.
A shive
r ran up her spine. Cammie would hate being an errand girl.
But, she did miss Hyacinth. The two friends had tried to keep their spirits up when Cammie had said good-bye that morning, but when Cammie saw Hyacinth’s lip start to quiver, she could not hold back and soon the two girls were hugging and crying. It was only the promise of a lifetime of love with her new papa that had caused Cammie to let go and say her good-byes. Maybe someday Hyacinth would get a papa and the two girls could spend time together.
Cammie hugged herself around the middle. If only Cynny could meet Lord Cavendish. Cammie could scarce believe that such a handsome man wanted to be her papa and the idea of showing him off to all of her friends at Miss Wickersham’s filled her with delicious anticipation, though no other girl had ever brought a papa back to the house. In fact, in all the years she had been there, Cammie could not think of anyone who left and then returned for a visit.
Perhaps it was because they were too busy with their papas.
Gazing through the window, Cammie saw a small garden just outside. There was a terrace with potted plants and right in the very middle was a beautiful hyacinth plant, the exact same shade of blue as her friend’s eyes. Though she was ever so excited to arrive at her new home and meet her papa, nervousness made Cammie wish for something familiar, and she was sure the pot of flowers was a sign meant to comfort her. Besides, she could use a distraction to keep her from reaching up her skirts and seeking out her secret nubbin. Breaking that rule would be worse than disobeying Miss Wickersham’s edict that she stay put, she reasoned.
Finding the door to the terrace, she opened it quietly, and made sure not to let it close behind her lest it lock. Just one minute to go and touch the flower and smell its sweet perfume was all she needed and then she would be back inside sitting on the sofa just the way she had been when Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish had left her. And, hopefully, the fresh air would help her settle enough to resist the temptation of touching her cunny once she came back inside.
She made her way quickly to the collection of flowers and gently touched the edges of the hyacinth. Just thinking about her friend and her home back at Talcott House calmed her nerves. Relieved and feeling better, Cammie turned and hurried toward the door. She was only two steps away when a large cat walked alongside the house, and in its determination to inspect Cammie, it strode past the door and pushed it closed. Cammie gasped and lunged for the door, but she tripped over the cat, fell and tore her dress.
A moan of horror escaped her lips when she looked down and saw the gash in her skirt. Looking closely, she saw not only a tear in her dress, but her stocking as well. Well, her skin was scraped and raw looking, but at least she wasn’t bleeding. That brought her a little comfort.
Gathering herself up as best she could, she made her way to the door only to find, as she had feared, that it was locked. She rattled the knob, but no luck.
Oh, she was in trouble for sure. Not only had she disobeyed instructions to stay put, but she had torn her dress and stocking.
Maybe if she could just get back inside she could cover up the damage to her dress and Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish would never know the difference. Her primary goal was to get Miss Wickersham off the premises and back with the vicar to perform the marriage as soon as possible before Miss Wickersham had a chance to change her mind and force Cammie to leave with her rather than allowing her to marry Lord Cavendish.
Because force is what she would have to use. Cammie had already decided life at Ashton Manor with Lord Cavendish as her papa was better than anything she ever dreamed of and Miss Wickersham would have to pry her fingers from the door frame before Cammie would leave the premises.
Moving carefully so as not to make any noise or draw attention to herself, Cammie made her way around the large manor house intending to find the front door and let herself back in, then she could return to the drawing room, sit down and wait for Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish. She made good progress around the house but stopped abruptly when she glanced in one window and saw Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish seated across from each other at a desk. Miss Wickersham’s back was to the window and Lord Cavendish was busy looking at papers on his desk. Maybe luck would be with her. She carefully squeezed between the shrubs and the house, praying she did no further damage to her clothing. Only a few more steps before she would be past the windows.
She carefully let out the breath she had been holding and stole one last glance into the room occupied by Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish. Miss Wickersham continued to face away from Cammie, but at the very moment she glanced at Lord Cavendish, he looked up from the papers on the desk and their eyes met.
A shiver of heat ran through Cammie and she could feel her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. She froze in place, hoping that if she did not move, he might not really notice her.
Lord Cavendish quickly returned his attention to Miss Wickersham and Cammie continued her quest for the front door.
Perhaps she had imagined the eye contact between herself and Lord Cavendish. It had lasted only a moment.
On shaky legs she made her way back inside and closed the door quietly behind her with a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the drawing room was just steps away, and she entered and resumed her seat, a calm countenance upon her face, with seconds to spare before Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish returned. Acting as though nothing was amiss, she greeted them both with a cheerful smile, while holding her breath, waiting to see if Lord Cavendish had indeed seen her outside the window.
She studied the faces of Miss Wickersham and Lord Cavendish for signs that Lord Cavendish…her papa...had noticed her outside the window and further, any indication Miss Wickersham was unhappy or that Cammie’s plans to stay at Ashton Manor forever might be thwarted in any way. Miss Wickersham seemed almost girlish in her demeanor toward Lord Cavendish. Cammie had never seen her teacher so animated before, and if she was not mistaken, there might have been a slight flush to Miss Wickersham’s cheeks, as though she found Lord Cavendish rather appealing herself.
However, much to Cammie’s relief and delight, Lord Cavendish seemed only to have eyes for her. His dark gaze never left her face, except only for the briefest of moments in response to whatever Miss Wickersham had to say. Cammie was flattered by his attention and also pleased to see that he was a gentleman and treated Miss Wickersham properly as well.
He truly was perfect.
Cammie began to relax, particularly when Miss Wickersham, rather than taking a seat, headed toward the doorway. Hopping up from the sofa, but careful to keep the torn side of her dress angled away, Cammie followed the others to the door and bid Miss Wickersham good-bye. Miss Wickersham promised to return in a few hours with the vicar.
She had done it! Miss Wickersham was gone. The vicar would soon arrive and no one was the wiser that she had broken the rules. What a glorious day.
Suddenly an overwhelming force drew her to Lord Cavendish and she turned to look up at the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life. He towered over her, but even without that advantage of height, his mere presence was daunting. His eyes seemed not to miss a thing and Cammie felt as though he could see into her very soul. She smiled up at him, though he did not smile in reply.
Uh oh. Cammie’s tummy did a somersault. What had gone wrong?
He took her elbow. “Shall we return to the drawing room, Cammie?”
His touch on her arm sent a heated thrill through her and her breath caught in her throat, making it impossible for her to reply other than to nod. Papa led her to the same sofa where she had been instructed to remain just moments before and they sat down next to each other. Cammie stared at her hands which were folded in her lap. The length of her dress covered her torn stocking and scraped knee, but had he noticed the tear in her dress?
“Cammie,” Lord Cavendish said, turning toward her, his face quite serious, “I am glad we have some time alone to talk before we get married. There are some important matters for us to discuss.”
“Oh?” was all Cammie could come up with to say. What more could there be? Had not he and Miss Wickersham already covered all of the details? Surely if they had unfinished business, her teacher wouldn’t have departed to collect the vicar.
“As your papa, I have certain expectations.” His deep tone was mostly kind, but held a hint of scolding that had her lady bits tingling and heating.
“Yes,” Cammie said, a blush covering her face. “Nurse Lister explained to me about...about...how babies are made.” Her voice trailed off into a nearly imperceptible whisper as she finished her sentence, such an embarrassing topic for their first private conversation.
Lord Cavendish chuckled and some of the seriousness left his face. “I am happy to hear that, Cammie. I ought to have been more clear in what I was saying.” He cleared his throat. “Let me start again. I expect obedience in all things, and that includes my wife.” His gaze held Cammie’s and she felt her heart drop to her toes. “Do you understand?”
“I-I believe so, sir.”
“I also expect honesty and truthfulness, and you can rely on me to give the same in return.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also believe in punishing those who disobey me.”
Cammie sat up straighter and felt the muscles of her bottom clench up. “Punish?”
“Yes, I expect obedience from you and if it is not given, there will be punishment. I want you to understand all of this before we agree to be married. If it is not acceptable to you, or you are unwilling to trust me to provide guidance and discipline when needed, then I believe, much as I hate to say it, it would be best for us to part ways.”
Cammie gasped and stared at him. His face was no longer stern, but seemed to have a cast of sadness about it, the same sadness she felt at the prospect of losing him as her papa.
“No,” she said. “I do not want us to part ways. I-I understand your expectations and I agree. I need a papa who will take good care of me and make sure I behave properly. I...” she trailed off and stared at her hands again before looking him directly in the eye and saying, “I want you to be my papa, and I want to be your bride, more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole life.”