Bobbie Josephine thought that her life could not be any better. She had the perfect husband who has a good king to her father’s kingdom. Dick led the land with compassion and respect. Both the upper class and the peasants were content to the changes Dick had introduced to the land. No one in the kingdom had ever been happier except for the princess herself. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled so wide her eyes crinkled at the corners. Happy tears fell down her face. She gave thanks for her blessings and wished for her own version of happily ever after.
It wasn’t long before the fantasies of both Dick and Bobbie Josephine came true. The queen allowed the union of marriage between the princess and her love. The festive event was attended by everyone in the entire kingdom. Food was plentiful and so was good cheer. The kingdom was united through love. Peasants and Lords danced and rejoiced together. Tears streamed down Bobbie’s face as her husband was declared as King William Harrison Donaldson. Her tears were of pride. Bobbie knew that her father would have been loving and accepting of Dick. In fact, Bobbie Josephine truly believed in her heart that her father would be proud to have Dick inherit his throne. The new king and queen celebrated and consummated their marriage as soon as they snuck away from the crowd of people.
Dick pulled Bobbie away from the crowd towards a closet only used by servants. Even though Bobbie Josephine protested that they would get caught, she did not make Dick stop. In fact, Bobbie relished in the feeling of how hot Dick’s lips on her neck made her feel between her thighs. Hungrily, she grabbed at his pants, but Dick pulled her hands away. Dick pressed Bobbie Josephine’s arms above her head against the wooden wall as he pushed his hardened self against her. Feeling how excited Dick had become caused Bobbie Josephine to become slippery wet between her legs. Dick pushed the legs of his bride open with his knees while still holding her to the wall. Bobbie gasped out in surprise and in excitement. She couldn’t wait to feel the hardness inside of her. Dick held both of Bobbie’s arms in one hand and pulled down his pants with his other hand. His manhood was throbbing.
Dick slowly peeled down the underclothing of the princess and rubbed his hardness against her. Back and forth, Dick slowly rubbed until the princess whispered, “Please make love to me, King William.” With those words, Dick became so aroused that he could not contain himself. Animalistic instincts kicked in. Dick slipped inside of Bobbie’s blossoming wet flower with ease. Before thrusting into her, Dick took a moment to look into the eyes of his bride. Dick would walk through hell to make Bobbie smile. Their love was true and would last for years to come. Dick let go of the hands of the princess and moved his hands to her face. He loving stroked her soft skin as he pushed into her. Each time his hardness thrusted inside of the princess, she gasped. Dick enjoyed hearing the princess moan in delight.
The princess wrapped her arms and legs around Dick as he grasps her behind while he pushed his manhood into the princess deeper. Dick felt the warm juices of the princess around his groin, which only made him hotter. Dick pulled Bobbie’s hair gently as he rammed his love beast inside her. The motion became faster with each thrust until Dick bucked and lowered his bride to the ground. Dick got on his knees and lifted the many layers of the dress the princess wore. Dick’s tongue tickled her thighs so she giggled for a moment until Dick’s tongue pressed inside of her flower. Bobbie began to melt in delight and pushed her hips in rhythmic motion on Dick’s lips and face. It wasn’t long before the princess shuddered and groaned as she released herself into Dick’s awaiting mouth. Dick happily licked up the juices from the princess. The two held each other tightly while breathing heavy from their lovemaking.
“I want our first born son to be named after your father,” Dick whispered as he tried to catch his breath. Beneath him, Bobbie Josephine began to shiver as she cried. Dick became concerning and immediately attempted to comfort his new wife. Bobbie interrupted Dick to explain that she only was crying tears of joy. Bobbie explained how excited she was to give herself to Dick and how much she wanted to bear his children. Dick lovingly rubbed Bobbie Josephine’s stomach dreaming about the baby he sired. Dick knew he would be a great father because his father had taught him how to be a man. Dick would teach his future sons about the lessons of being a humble loving man who leads with grace and kindness. The happy thoughts of the future aroused Dick again. He placed the princess on her stomach and lifted up the back of her dress. He pushed himself inside her moaning in pleasure in delight. After Dick was fully inside of the princess, he leaned over to her ear and whispered, “Let’s make our son, my queen.” Bobbie squealed in delight as Dick began rocking her back and forth. The two made love for hours. Keeping their hands off one another seemed to be impossible. Each time they made love Dick whispered how much he loved the princess softly in her ear as he pushed inside of her.
“Do I make you happy?” Dick asked after the couple had finished making love for the third time. The princess was breathless from their romp. She laid her head on Dick’s chest and loving stroked the light hairs on his chest. She sighed a long sigh before answering.
“I could not ask for anything more,” Bobbie Josephine replied, as she lovingly stroked Dick’s chest. Her worries had evaporated like morning fog. No longer did she have to stress about losing the only man who ever truly swept her off her feet. Her mother was quite pleased with Dick due to the fact that he ruled the kingdom fairly and treated the princess with compassion and kindness. Bobbie Josephine daydreamed about the baby inside of her as she began to nod off laying on Dick. Dick rubbed her back softly until he too began to doze off. The couple laid naked completely wrapped up in one another. Neither Dick nor the princess wished to anywhere else except for the moment they relished in presently.
His Grace’s Wallflower
“I am sorry, Arabella,” Father said. “I am sorry for everything. How have I done this to you? I cannot speak for your prospects. I—I have ruined us, I am afraid. Yes, that is the truth of it. Drawing rooms all across England will, right now, be alive with talk of it. I have ruined us.”
Father often spoke like this, even though he had ruined them two years ago, when Arabella was one-and-twenty. Overnight, she had gone from a good prospect to a wallflower. Her brothers had left long before the ruin and now subsisted on their own incomes. Her sister was married and shunted her maiden name. It was just Arabella, the unmarried burden, to whom Father apologized, profusely and daily. Arabella hated to see him like this. It was like seeing a lion cry. Father had always been strong. This was no who he was meant to be.
“Don’t think of it, Father,” she said, touching his arm. “Things happen. Yes, they do. I understand. I cannot blame you.”
“A bad investment,” Father muttered, gripping his pipe hard. “I should’ve listened to Mr. Rolfe. He knew what it was about. He told me. Don’t make that investment, he said. And what did I do? I threw your dowry at it! Ha! What a smart thing for a man to do! What a tactical genius!”
He was in one of his dark moods. It was almost impossible to bring him out of these. Arabella sat by the window and looked out upon the lawn. The August sun burnt down fiercely and made the lawn looked magical. It was overgrowing. They could no longer afford a gardener. But it still looked magical. It was the place Arabella had played when she was a child, where she had learnt to run and laugh and be happy. And now it epitomized the downfall of the Hood family.
“Fool,” Father hissed, fingering his pipe. “Blasted fool. What folly I have given myself to. Your mother despises me.”
“She does not,” Arabella said. “Don’t say untrue things, Father, just because you are in a rage.”
“She does,” Father said. “She married a rich man of a solid name. The only thing that remains is my name. Oh, three-hundred years ago that would have been enough. But these days, with these merchants climbing up, growing richer than lords and ladies? I’m afraid a name isn’t worth what it once was.”
“We will survive, Father,�
�� Arabella said. She wished he would spring up and do something. That was what was needed: action. Not these petty tears and this self-reproach. But he wouldn’t. This knock had paralyzed him. Arabella had no choice but to try and soothe him, and accept life as an impending spinster. “I am sure our ancestors survived worse.”
“Oh, yes, they survived the plague, famine, war.” Father paused, and then breathed heavily. “But what is a plague to a lack of footmen? What is famine compared with losing one’s gardener? What is a war when one can no longer afford to employ a satisfactory cook?”
Arabella sighed. This was no use. She stayed silent and gazed out of the window. She had begun to wish she had the courage to do something herself, but a lady could do little, apart from offer consolation. As an extension of this wish, she had begun to wish she was born a man. Perhaps then she could do something. Perhaps then she would make some kind of difference. But she was Lady Arabella Hood, nothing more. Now, when she attended parties, she sat with the wallflowers. Nobody was interested.
She was about to turn from the window when she saw a lad running up the driveway. He knocked on the door, and their last remaining servant – Bessie – answered. About ten minutes passed, and then Mother ran into the room. Her face was bright red, and her hands were trembling, making the letter she was holding flutter.
“Mother, what is it?” Arabella said. “Is it bad news?”
“No,” Mother croaked. “It is fantastic news. Oh, fantastic news! I thought we were outcasts, pariahs, lost souls!”
“We are,” Father muttered.
“No, Hilliard, we are not. I have here a letter from His Grace, Lucian Domen, Duke of Stonehill. He cordially invites us – that’s what it says – to a ball at his Stonehill Castle in Wells, in two weeks’ time, the second of September.”
“What!” Arabella exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise. They were still occasionally invited to parties, but always of the lesser kind. The lords and ladies with whom they’d socialized had made them outcasts. And now here was a Duke… “Is it true, Mother?” Arabella couldn’t believe it. It was too fanciful. “Why would he want us there?”
“To make a fool of us, no doubt.” Father laughed. “He’ll make me a jester, to juggle and dance!”
“Hilliard!” Mother snapped. “You are speaking of His Grace. Do not be so impudent.”
Father waved his arms. “Blast it. Blast them all.”
“Are you saying we will not go?” Mother said.
Father met her eyes. She stared him straight in the face. Two years of resentment was communicated in that wordless exchange. “Of course, we will go,” Father said, turning away. “We cannot rightly refuse, can we? I am just saying that we should not expect miracles.”
“I agree,” Mother said. “We cannot refuse.”
Arabella was on her feet. “Mother, I will need a fine dress, surely?”
Father scoffed. “Good luck, dear. We’ve sold all the finer things.”
“Not all of them.” Mother grinned. It was the first time she’d smiled in two years. “I hid a special one away.”
“Nealie!” Father cried.
“Oh, do not make a fuss,” Mother said. “We had to keep something for our youngest child, did we not? Come, dear, I will show you.”
Arabella followed Mother up the stairs, where she was presented with a dress of fine silk and noble refinement. Yes, it would do for a Duke’s ball. It would not be the finest dress there, but it would be serviceable.
Father cursed and muttered about how he would not go. But he went. One did not refuse a Duke.
*****
Despite the excitement and the thrill of attending the ball, Arabella still found herself sitting with the wallflowers. These were ladies in much the same position as Arabella. Their fathers had wasted their dowries or were disgraced in some minor way. Some were not pleasing to the eye. Some had a rapid reputation. They sat in a small huddle, just outside the circle of the main party, watching as higher lords and ladies talked and laughed and enjoyed their positions of flagrant wealth.
Mother and Father, Arabella saw, were standing in a small circle of lords and ladies. Even from here, Arabella could tell that the conversation was making Father awkward. His face was reddening, and his eyes regarded his combatant with something approaching pure hatred. Mother handled herself with more aplomb, which negated Father’s behavior, and gave the couple the appearance of a desperate pair trying to make amends.
Arabella was talking with a lady by the name of Irene Crewler. Her father’s father had been a clothier. It was widely regarded that she was not yet worthy to participate fully in wider society. Plus, her family was not overly wealthy. It stung Arabella to know that Irene’s family, no matter how ignoble, was wealthier than hers. But she tried to cast considerations aside and simply talk with the girl about flowers and dresses and all things ladylike.
Then, from a few feet away, came a shrill, high-pitched cry: “Arabella!”
She turned her head and saw Katherine Cogan. She and Katherine had been childhood friends but had drifted apart since her marriage to a Scottish lord. She hadn’t seen her since her thirteenth birthday. Arabella was delighted to see her old friend. She ran to her as though running toward an oasis in the desert.
“Katherine,” she said, smiling. “It is so good to see you.”
Right away Arabella knew that something was wrong. Katherine did not smile. Her face was one of careful impassivity. Arabella had been about to touch her friend’s hand in a show of friendliness. She withdrew it and made her face stone. Arabella didn’t say anything. She waited. Katherine clearly had something she wanted to say.
“How dare you run over to me like that!” she hissed, keeping her voice low. “Who do you think you are? You would be lucky if I let you deliver the vegetables at the back door! And you run over here like that! Have you no self-respect?”
Part of Arabella wanted to weep. But she had stamped that part of herself out over the past two years. Tears would accomplish nothing. She leaned in, close, so they could not be overheard. “I remember when you kissed the stablehand’s son, Katherine,” Arabella said. “Do you? Oh, I can see in your face that you do. You would be careful speaking to me in that tone, lest your husband discover your salacious proclivities.”
“I was a child!”
“Very well,” Arabella said. “If that is your defense, I shall tell the story many times tonight. Let’s see the response it gets.”
“You evil—”
“Stop, Katherine. I am not evil. I came over to greet you as a friend. Instead of behaving with grace, you insulted me. Yes, my family is not as wealthy as it once was. Is that cause for you to forget your ballroom manners?”
“I will not tolerate this,” Katherine said, but her voice was weak.
“Your husband approaches,” Arabella said. He was weaving through the crowd, a large man with a wine-filled face. “If you wish to cause a scandal, go ahead. I have nothing to lose. I think it would give me great pleasure to talk – at length – of the passionate kiss you and the stablehand shared.”
“Demon!”
Arabella shrugged her shoulders, ever so slightly. And then curtseyed as Lord Sebastian Cogan joined them.“My lord,” Arabella said.
“My lady.” Lord Cogan bowed. He turned to his wife. “Is there something amiss, my wife?”
“Yes, Katherine,” Arabella said. “You look awfully pale. Is something wrong?”
She opened her mouth, and then closed it instantly. She shook her head. “It was nice to see you, Lady Hood,” she said, her voice cold.
“And you, Lady Cogan,” Arabella replied.
The pair walked retreated across the ballroom. Arabella turned, meaning to make her way to the circle of table and chairs where the wallflowers sat, when she bumped into a man. He was tall, wearing a military
jacket and fine britches. His knee-high boots were accentuated his muscled legs. His whole body was muscled. He turned, and Arabella saw his face. He was clean-shaven, with curly hair that fell just around his ears. The scar on his face commanded attention. It cut across his forehead, barely missed his left eye, and finished upon his cheek.
“I apologize, my lord,” Arabella said. “I have been mightily clumsy.”
“My lord?” The man smiled. His bright blue eyes filled with life. “I fear I have been clumsy. I have allowed you to address me without informing you of who I am.”
“Have I made a blunder?”
The man grinned wider. “I am Lucian Doman, your host.”
Arabella’s mouth fell open.
*****
Her sentences tumbled into each other as she tried to apologize. She had been a great fool. She should’ve had Mother point His Grace out to her upon entry. It had completely slipped her mind. “I am sorry, Your Grace,” she said. “What an embarrassing mistake!”
His Grace waved a hand. “I won’t hear of it, Lady Hood.”
He was one step ahead of her. He had known who she was without having to be told. “Arabella Hood, it is a wonderful name.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Arabella said, feeling as though she was in a dream. She didn’t know what else to say. She resorted to formalities. “This is a wonderful—”
“Yes, it is a wonderful ball. And we will discuss the latest social graces. Perhaps some milder novels. Flowers, yes? This is popular with ladies?” He sighed. “Excuse me, my lady. I am recently returned from France. My courtroom graces are not what they once were. But, I implore you, do not resort to conventionalities. I heard what you said to Lady Cogan—an uppity lady if I ever met one. That is the Lady Hood I wish to know.”
Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Page 32