The ducal carriage quickly left Hawkes Hill behind. It would be almost half an hour’s ride to Primrose Court, as the St. John home was known.
“Margaret St. John will be delighted to have Justin finally married,” the dowager remarked as they rode along. “You are very fortunate, my child. Primrose Court has a dower house, and Mistress St. John has been eager to move into it. She has spent the last several years preparing it for her arrival. You’ll have no mother-in-law in your house.”
“But, ma’am, I still have not decided whether to marry St. John or not. I hope the good lady is not presuming I will.” Aurora shifted nervously in her seat.
“Now, my child,” the dowager said, patting Aurora’s hand, “you must cease this maidenly dithering. It is not at all becoming to a girl of your intellect. Of course you will marry Justin St. John. He’s an excellent catch, and your mama will be absolutely delighted.” She smiled encouragingly at the girl. “I know you are a little frightened, but you do not have to be, Aurora. If your mama is in St. Timothy, the rest of your family is here with you, and everything is just going to be fine.” She patted the lace-mitted hand again.
The vehicle traveled on past orchards of apples and pears now being picked. The air was sweet with the scent of ripe fruit. Finally they turned off the main road, going through an open gate and down a narrow tree-lined way that led to Primrose Court. It was a lovely warm, pinkish brick mansion of Tudor vintage that had been modernized over the years to include large windows and a round pillared porch. The coach horses trotted smartly up the graveled drive, finally stopping directly before the house. Immediately servants were hurrying forward to open the carriage door, draw down the steps, and help the passengers out, escorting them into the building.
Justin St. John was awaiting them in the foyer. “Welcome, your ladyship,” he said, kissing the dowager’s hand. Then he turned to Aurora. “Welcome home, my darling,” he told her, and she blushed.
“Oh, St. John, don’t be such a fool,” she gently scolded him.
“Come into the drawing room and meet Mama,” he said with a small smile. How pretty she looked, he thought to himself. She seemed to have gone out of her way for him today. She was going to say yes. He just knew she was going to say yes! His heart raced, and for a brief moment he felt like a schoolboy again. Leading the two women into the salon where his mother was standing to greet their guests, he let his parent greet the dowager first.
Mistress St. John curtsied to Mary Rose Hawkesworth. “How lovely that you could come for a visit, ma’am,” she said. “I am so sorry that the ague kept me from your grand ball last May. The neighbors are yet speaking of it, and such a dramatic climax to have the young duchess faint, and everyone to learn she was with child. Is she well?”
The dowager smiled thinly. “As well as any young woman in her condition, Margaret. I have brought the duchess’s sister with me today. St. John! Introduce Aurora!”
“Mama, may I present Miss Aurora Spencer-Kimberly,” he dutifully said, drawing Aurora forward with a smile.
“How do you do,” Aurora said softly, curtsying politely.
“So,” Margaret St. John said, “you are the girl who is to marry my son, Miss Spencer-Kimberly. You are going to marry Justin, aren’t you?” Her gray eyes twinkled with humor at Aurora’s surprised expression.
There was what seemed a long silence, and then Aurora said, “Yes, Mistress St. John, I am. I hope that you will approve.”
Margaret St. John hugged Aurora warmly. “My dear, I am absolutely rapturously relieved that some nice young woman has decided to settle Justin down. Come, now, let us sit down and have our tea.”
She was in a dream, Aurora thought. Had she really agreed to marry St. John? Yes, she had. The dowager was looking smugly pleased. Mistress St. John appeared delighted as she poured out the tea, and St. John was grinning at her like a fool. Why did I say yes, Aurora wondered to herself. Do I love him? Do I really want to marry him? She sipped her tea silently. Martha would very definitely approve her decorum. She was brought back to reality at the sound of St. John’s voice.
“Let’s be married at Christmas,” he said enthusiastically.
His mother immediately looked shocked. “Justin,” she cautioned him, “one cannot arrange a proper wedding so quickly, nor is it seemly. There would be talk at so swift a union, and it would reflect badly upon Aurora, I fear. People would be counting on their fingers, I regret.”
“Aurora and I have already discussed this matter, Margaret, and while it is a trifle soon, we thought next May would be lovely. Aurora has always wanted to be married in the springtime,” the dowager said.
“May? That’s almost eight months away,” St. John groused.
“Oh, yes,” his mother said to the dowager, “May would be just lovely, and the duchess will have recovered from her childbirth by then and can be at her sister’s side. It’s a trifle soon, of course, but no one would think badly of us if we arranged the wedding for May. The betrothal must be announced quickly, however.”
“Valerian is Aurora’s guardian here in England. I will see that he gives a small, intimate dinner next week, and he will announce the engagement at that time. With the duchess enceinte, no one will consider it strange we are being so simple,” the dowager replied.
“What a pity the duchess’s condition prevented them from attending the royal wedding and the coronation this month,” Mistress St. John noted. “I understand it was all quite magnificent, and that the queen is a lovely young woman.”
“Indeed, Calandra was dreadfully disappointed,” the dowager replied, remembering how her grandson’s wife had shrieked and carried on when she learned that she could not travel during her pregnancy. It had been three days before she had stopped crying, and she was still not over her disappointment, nor would she ever be, the dowager thought.
The two women now settled down to a good gossip, for although St. John’s mother was at least fifteen years younger than the dowager, they had many interests and friends in common.
“I am going to take Aurora on a tour of the house,” St. John finally said, and his mother waved them off.
They left the drawing room hand in hand, and he showed her the dining room, the back salon the family generally used, the ballroom, and the original old hall, which was beamed and hung with banners. Leading her upstairs, he took her through a door, and they were in a large bedchamber. “And this is my room,” he said softly, drawing her into his arms and kissing her slowly.
For a moment she enjoyed the kiss, and then she drew just slightly away from him. “I don’t think we should be here, St. John, nor should we be engaged in such activity.”
“When did you decide to marry me?” he asked her, his fingers unlacing her gown as he bent to kiss her again.
“When your mother asked me,” she admitted, and slipped her arms about his neck, kissing him back. “Where is my betrothal ring?”
He pushed her down onto his bed, and straddling her gently, pulled her bodice down to reveal her soft, alabaster bosom. His hands reached out to fondle the dainty mounds. Bending his head, he began to lick first the pink nipples, and then each of her round breasts in its turn. She sighed, encouraging him in his pursuit, and he began to suck on her nipples, drawing upon them strongly, biting them tenderly until she was writhing beneath him and almost whimpering.
Finally he lifted his head from the sweetness of her flesh and asked her, “Do you want to know more, my darling Aurora?”
“Yes,” she murmured. She was already afire with his passionate attentions to her sensitive breasts. They felt hard and ready to burst.
“This will be so much easier when you do not have so many garments on,” he told her. He pushed her skirts up. Beneath the green silk she had on at least half a dozen petticoats, but, thankfully, no panniers. He thrust the material aside enough to slip his hand beneath, and began stroking her leg, which was encased in a silk stocking and tightly gartered. He was going to undress her himself on their we
dding night, slowly, deliberately, and purposively, kissing each bit of flesh as he exposed it until his very touch would set her afire. His fingers moved above her garter, touching the very soft skin of her inner thigh. He caressed it lightly, teasingly.
Aurora’s head was spinning. His big hands were so gentle, his mouth so deliciously wicked when he used it on her breasts. His hand moved farther upward, brushing softly against her little nest of curls. This, she sensed, was dangerous territory. She stirred restlessly as a single long finger slipped between her nether lips to find her little pleasure button. He began rubbing it provocatively.
“St. John!” she squeaked.
“Don’t you like it?” he whispered hotly in her ear, his finger continuing its wonderful and erotic friction.
“Yes!” Oh, God, yes! This was even better than when she did it to herself. She squirmed with excitement, gasping as she reached the crest of delight. “Ummmmm! Oh, St. John, that is simply too delicious. Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!” She shuddered.
Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, his tongue playing with her. Then he murmured, “One day I shall use my tongue on you there, my darling, but you are not yet ready for such games.” The finger slipped away from her pleasure button and began to penetrate her. She gasped with surprise, but he reassured her. “It’s all right, my precious. This is where I shall enter your body when we are married.” His finger gently inserted itself, moving forward in her hot passage very slowly, very carefully. When he reached her maidenhead, he ceased his action, gently ascertaining that her virginity was well lodged.
She whimpered.
“Hush, darling,” he soothed her, and began to move the finger back and forth within her. “There, isn’t that nice, Aurora? No, sweeting, do not move else I hurt you without meaning to do so.” The finger moved swiftly, and within moments she was crying out with her pleasure, and when the shudders had subsided, he withdrew his finger, putting it into his mouth to suck upon it. His member was like iron, and tightly lodged within his pantaloons. Loosening it, he lay next to her and put her hand upon it. “If you soothe me very gently, my darling, it would help.”
“But yesterday you said it would hurt you,” she murmured, her fingers closing about him. He was warm and throbbing with life.
“That, my darling, was yesterday in Hawkesworth’s garden. This is now in my house. Gently, Aurora,” he instructed as she loosed him and began to stroke his member. “Ahhh, yes, that is the way.” He reached into his coat and drew forth a silk handkerchief. “Take your hand away now, Aurora. My love juices are about to flow forth.”
She couldn’t help it. Turning her head, she watched as his member erupted forth a creamy stream of thick liquid. He stemmed the flow in the handkerchief, shivering with pleasure until finally it was done. Mopping the residue, he lay the sodden silk aside, then, turning, kissed her mouth even as she reached out to caress the limp flesh.
He smiled at her. “You weren’t afraid, were you?”
“No,” she told him, and then, “we have been very wicked, haven’t we, St. John? Very wicked indeed.”
“I haven’t half begun to be wicked with you, Aurora,” he told her with a chuckle, and kissed her again.
She murmured her approval, but suddenly the clock on the mantel began to strike. Aurora stiffened and pulled away from St. John. “Your mama and the dowager will surely begin to wonder where we have gotten to!” Pushing her skirts down, she sat up. “Oh, do lace me up, St. John!”
Chuckling, he complied, afterward fastening his own buttons.
Aurora looked into the mirror over the fireplace. “Oh, Lord, my hair is a disaster, and I shall never be able to fix it!”
Laughing now, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and drew forth a small hairbrush with which he repaired her coif. When he had finished, he said, “There. No one will ever suspect that we were toying with your virtue, my darling.” He drew her up. “Come, and I shall take you to the strongroom, where I have the St. John betrothal ring. It is a magnificent yellow diamond, oval in shape, and will become you, my darling. Let everyone think what they may. You will be my wife in the spring, Aurora.”
“I don’t suppose I should ask how you became so proficient in restoring a lady’s coiffure,” Aurora said tartly.
“No,” he agreed, “you should not.” Then, taking her by the hand, they left the bedroom.
When they returned to the drawing room, both Mistress St. John and the dowager were both extravagant in their praise of Aurora’s new ring. And for the first time she felt a little bit of excitement.
“Is this love?” she softly asked St. John.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been in love before, but I do know I feel different about you than any other woman I have ever known, my darling. Perhaps it is love.”
It was rather flattering, she thought as their carriage made its way back to Hawkes Hill. He had never been in love before he met her. Cally didn’t love the duke, nor did Valerian love her. I think I am very lucky, Aurora considered.
“A marvelous stone,” the dowager said for the fourth time since she had seen Aurora’s ring. “A bit showy, perhaps, but without a flaw. There isn’t another diamond like it in all the world. It belonged to an Indian rajah, I am told, and has a name. The Virgin, it is called. I am so very pleased, my dear child,” the dowager continued. “And I know that your family will be too.”
George Spencer-Kimberly was indeed delighted. “When’s the wedding?” he asked. His own nuptials were scheduled for the very end of October. “Will you and St. John return to St. Timothy with us?”
“We are not being married until next spring,” Aurora told him. “It has all been decided by the dowager and Mistress St. John. Oh, George, I do wish you could persuade Mama to leave the island and come to England to be with Cally and me. The duke has said Cally may go back to London after she births her child, and she is planning to do it. If Mama were here, perhaps she would not be so restless.”
“I will try,” he said, and then, “Come on! I want to see Cally’s face when she sees your betrothal ring. She’ll be most envious. You know how she loves beautiful jewelry.”
“God help you” was Cally’s blessing on her sister’s news. She was sitting up in her bed, drinking tea and eating sweetmeats. “Let me see the ring.” She took Aurora’s slender hand and peered closely at it. “He’s generous,” she noted, “but I’ve told you what he’ll expect in return for his gifts. You would be wise to return the ring.”
Shaking his dark head, George departed the room. His sister grew stranger every day, and made no secret of the fact she hated any intimacy with her husband.
When the door had closed behind him, Aurora said, “I am learning the pleasures of the flesh, little sister. St. John is quite passionate.”
“My God!” Cally exclaimed. “You haven’t been intimate with him and given away your virtue? Surely you aren’t that foolish.”
“We play love games,” Aurora said, “but that is all.”
“How can you bear it?” Cally said wearily.
“I like it,” Aurora said. “I like his kisses, and I like his mouth on my skin, and I enjoy it when he fondles me, Cally.”
Calandra shuddered. “You must be a wanton,” she said.
“Because a woman enjoys the physical attentions of a man does not necessarily mean she is a loose jade. Of course, I do not mean she should encourage just any man,” Aurora told her sister, “but it can be no sin with a husband, or an affianced husband. Why should a woman not take her pleasure too? I can find no wrong in it.”
“Perhaps it is me,” Calandra admitted. “I just don’t enjoy being pawed and invaded by a man. Any man. It isn’t just Valerian. While I was in London there were several gentlemen who approached me in a less than seemly fashion. I enjoy being admired and envied, but I will not be touched by a lustful man.”
“I am astounded, then, that you are with child,” Aurora spoke boldly to her sibling. She did not really expect an answer.
“My husband forced me,” Cally said, surprising her. “He wanted an heir, and that I wasn’t willing was of no importance to him.”
Aurora was thoughtful as she considered her sister’s words. If Cally didn’t want her husband, how could he be aroused by her enough to spill his seed? She must ask St. John about such behavior. Perhaps the duke enjoyed resistance. It was a distasteful and frightening thought that a woman’s desires and wishes were not paramount to such intimacy.
Aurora had no opportunity to inform her brother-in-law of her impending marriage, for the dowager had already told him, as she discovered when she sat down to dinner. The old lady had been so delighted, she could not contain herself long enough to allow Aurora to announce her own good news. The duke took the news impassively.
“I wish you happiness,” he said.
“And you will give an intimate little dinner to announce Aurora’s betrothal, Valerian,” his grandmother said. “Just the immediate family and the Bowens, of course. Calandra is hardly even up to that, but we must do it for propriety’s sake. Elsie Bowen will trumpet the news all about the county, I am certain. We will achieve our aim without incurring any vast expense in doing so,” she chuckled. Then she turned to Aurora. “Of course, if your sister were not so fragile right now, we should have a very grand ball to announce your coming marriage, but we shall soothe everyone’s feelings by inviting them all to the wedding. It will be the grandest occasion the county has seen in years. Valerian will, naturally, foot the expense, won’t you, my dear boy?”
“Of course,” the duke said dryly but without enthusiasm.
“Are you not happy for me?” Aurora asked him pointedly.
“If you are happy, Aurora, then I must be happy for you even if I believe you could do better” was the reply.
“Better?” Her voice was sharp. “With one of those London fops Cally was forever pressing upon me? I am astounded that you think so little of me, Valerian, to believe that I would be that shallow. St. John suits me quite well. He is a country gentleman, and I prefer being a country lady. And he is very passionate! His kisses set my heart afire! I am the luckiest girl in the world!” She glared at him, daring him to contradict her or criticize St. John.
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