by Lisa Torquay
“What are you wearing under this dress?” He nibbled her throat.
“Nothing.” She sighed her pleasure. “I didn’t bring Nell. How could I manage?”
“Goddamn it, woman!” His voice tortured. “This is too much for a miserable man in love!” He picked her up, striding hurriedly to the bedroom.
“Oh, poor duke!” She mocked, without being able to hide what he made her feel. He placed her carefully on the rustic bed.
She didn’t waste any time in bunching her skirts up, revealing her delectable self to him. “Come right here, before I become miserable too, husband!”
He needed it not said twice. In a few moments, their thirsty bodies joined in search of quenching relief.
A long time later, sunlight had faded away. Philip had lit the fireplace; they cuddled in a rumpled bed, limbs entwined. Sated, content, surrendered.
“Is your father better?” Philip started the conversation.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I left when the doctor stated him out of danger.” She moved, leaning closer to him.
“I hope it wasn’t too much strain on you.” He rolled a strand of her rich brown hair on his finger.
“No, not really.” Her hand stroked his stubble face. “I got to rest until you arrived.”
“Yes, well, and I disturbed you lamentably.” He pulled her closer. “I am really sorry.”
“It’s alright now.” She sighed. They fell silent for a moment.
“Sometimes I worry.” He restarted.
“What about?” She lifted her chin to look at him.
“Maybe the Ton is a degree right and I did betray my uncle by…taking you.”
“I beg to differ.” She said pensively. “Nobody stepped the boundaries while he was alive.”
“No. But by God, the passion I felt went through my pores!” He admitted shamelessly.
“I can’t say I found it easy.” She devolved. “You had that horrible mood about you.”
“Pure sexual frustration.” He disclosed. “I’d thought about moving out. Just couldn’t stay away!”
“The very torment, Major!” She recalled his sold commission. “I didn’t know how I’d cope.”
“I almost went crazy!”
“Almost?” She gave him a quizzical look. “Some things you did weren’t entirely…healthy.”
“No. The want of you drove me insane with jealousy.” His eyes acquired a conflicted expression.
“I understand. Especially after yesterday.”
“I believe I’ll be able to keep it in check, as I know how you feel about me.” He smiled rather self-conceited.
“Don’t promise anything, please.” A sad expression in her vivid green eyes. “Unfulfilled promises are the worst hurt. Like Charles did repeatedly.”
It downed on him that she might love her half-brother and her father. They let her down so badly, soon there’d be nothing but bitterness and destroyed bonds.
“I see. Let’s pave our marriage on accomplished facts.” He kissed her cheek tenderly. “Do you agree?”
“No doubt.” She said sleepily.
“Now, Your Grace, I command you to sleep.” He mocked a phlegmatic tone. “It’s been a long twenty-four-hour adventure caused by His bloody Grace.” He moved to make her more comfortable. “Tomorrow we ride back to the manor.”
She just nodded, already sliding into oblivion.
A week later, Selene heard horse hooves at the manor’s front drive. She sat with a book in the library, as a knock sounded on the door. At her command, the butler came in.
“You’re requested in the study, Your Grace.”
“Is there anything afoot, Mr Bell?” She thought this summon rather atypical.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr Bell.” He bowed and left.
She stood up, smoothed her skirts and headed to the library. She knocked and entered, freezing. Her father, her half-brother and the solicitor sat around Philip’s massive desk. How had they found her wretched disappeared half-brother?
“I had men after him.” Philip answered her unexpressed question. This time his men didn’t fail. “Easy enough, since he has little imagination to hide.”
Charles didn’t bother to hide his dislike at the comment. As a man aspiring grandeur, he wouldn’t subject himself to a low profile lifestyle.
“If you’ll sit down, Your Grace.” The solicitor invited her. “We’ll be able to start.”
Still astounded, she sat slowly on an armchair. Her brother dressed a not so fashionable suit, too small for his growing belly. Her father looked run down, certainly from the fever, thinner and paler in a suit that seemed too big for him.
“His Grace called for this meeting today,” the solicitor started, “to put right some matters concerning the Drawbridge family.”
“Precisely.” Philip took the word. “It’s public knowledge that Mr Eastwell, the son, has pending debts that he finds himself unable to honour.” He looked at Selene, as if she was the purpose of this. “I am willing to liquidate his debts in exchange for a few conditions.” He eyed both Eastwells directly.
“What’s this charade, Crompton?” Her ever-unpleasant brother interposed.
“We’re coming to that, Eastwell.” Philip said with authority. “First, both father and son will sign a letter of apology to Selene for your part in her forced marriage.”
“A ‘forced’ marriage that made her a duchess twice?” Charles scorned.
“It doesn’t matter what came of it!” Philip would lose his level tone in no time, Selene observed. “In principle, she hadn’t accepted it. You’re going to apologise for forcing her.”
“It would be only fair.” Her father spoke for the first time in a strenuous voice.
Philip nodded. “Mr Eastwell?” The solicitor turned to Charles.
“Will that be it?” He scowled.
“No. There are more clauses.” Philip said seriously. “Especially in your case, since you’re the one who’s owing.”
“I prefer to see which further humiliation you have in store.” Charles positioned himself.
The solicitor came forward. “Mr Charles Eastwell will have his debts paid in full in exchange for voluntary work in a house for gambling addicts.” The house had been opened by the widow of an addicted gentleman. The gentleman had killed himself, preferring that to the shame of dishonourable debt.
“Work?” Charles asked indignant. “Gentry don’t work!”
“You will.” Philip said with finality.
“In failing to be present five days a week or going back to gambling habits, Mr Charles Eastwell will be forced to leave England for Australia and settle there for life.” The solicitor continued.
“It’s a penal colony!” Charles almost shouted, pleated brows, eyes squinted.
“Take it or leave it, Eastwell.” Philip challenged. “After all, you might as well remain clean.”
“It is a very sensible solution.” Baron Drawbridge opined. “You’d have a reason to keep away from trouble, Charles. God knows that nothing else did.”
Charles grumbled some acknowledgement. If her half-brother continued with that despicable behaviour, Selene feared her stomach would manifest itself.
“If you refuse, you’ll be bought a soldier’s commission to fight in Africa, Eastwell.” Philip added, being entirely on the upper ground. “Be certain of one thing. You’ll not remain in England to cause more shame and distress. Understood?”
Charles lowered his head, seeming to acquiesce. In seconds he lifted it again and darted Philip a contemptuous look. “You’re doing this because you’re disgustingly in love with her!” He pointed at Selene.
Selene would have slapped her half-brother if she wasn’t well-behaved enough.
Philip’s eyebrows arched. “I can understand you find it disgusting, since you never tried it.” Philip shot back. “I feel elated, if you must know.” He threw a scorching gaze at Selene, making her blush with the charge of it.<
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Robert Eastwell noticed the exchange and smiled to himself, satisfied.
“What do you say, Eastwell?” Philip pushed.
“You leave me no choice but do this…abominable peasant’s work.” He sounded disgruntled this time.
“Good.” Philip commented. “Our solicitor will prepare the documents and take for you to sign. This agreement is valid as of this minute.”
Selene couldn’t help the wave of admiration for her husband. She thought as everybody left. In one swift move, he gave Charles an occupation to divert his attention from gambling and enough penalty if he went back to it. He had to be the most passionately smart man in England. And the most infuriatingly inescapable man in the whole glorious world.
She stood in front of the window watching as the carriage drove away. Two strong arms embraced her from behind. She sighed and leaned on him as he enfolded her in his large strong body.
“Happy?” His silky rich voice murmured in her ear.
“To bursting point.” She smiled. She turned to him and snaked her arms about his manly neck. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?
Their eyes met. “Yes.” He lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Did I?”
“Several times.” She leaned her head on his broad chest, closing her eyes to revel in the feel of him.
Epilogue
One Year Later
John Philip Robert Rockfield was three months of healthy lungs, Selene observed, as she took her son from the wet nurse. Displaying rich brown hair and clove eyes, the boy showed signs that he’d provoke many a women’s sighs.
At that time, ladies of the ton didn’t breastfeed their children, hiring other women to do that, as they hired people to do everything else.
In the months that followed that meeting in the manor’s study, her relationship with her family improved tenfold. Baron Drawbridge tried to make amends by rekindling his connection with Selene. He’d been present, offering help and comfort whenever needed. As for Charles, Selene and he hadn’t fully re-established their bond, as it’d been during their childhood. They seemed to be on the right track however. Charles appeared to be thriving in the house for gambling addicts, often talking about the people there and how he’d been helping them and himself in the process. As far as anybody knew, he’d kept away from cards and demonstrated interest in other areas, like the study of addiction and even love. Selene knew he’d been courting recently. All indications the lady in question being none other than the widow who ran the house for gambling addicts.
The ton had to put up with the Duke and Duchess of Crompton. After all, they were one of the pillars of their society. In time, the gossip had faded away, giving opportunity for Selene to go back to society and resume her due place in it. She never again talked to her ex-best friends, thinking it unworthy to be near people who’d betray her trust so easily. Having given birth to the heir of the dukedom, she consolidated her position, becoming the reference of the latest fashion in London.
Lovingly, she placed her son in the cradle. She’d stole some moments to come and give him a quick good-night kiss. She climbed down the steps, her water-green gauzy dress flowing around her, as she went back to the ball she was hosting. Her duke waited for her at the foot of the sweeping stairs of Crompton house, looking adoringly up at her.
The Duke and the Duchess of Crompton had become famous for their romantic displays. Not worried to hide their love, they touched in public, danced several times in every ball – it was considered impolite for a husband and wife dance more than one, – changed passionate stares and remained faithful to each other. The couple elicited sighs from romantic debutantes and envy from jaded lords
Philip took her hand, when she approached him, kissing it without hurry. “Is he alright?” He asked in her ear with his silky rich voice that never failed to arouse her.
“Yes, gone to sleep now.” She spoke back in his ear, coming nearer than necessary.
“Good.” His thumb caressed her palm enticingly, while she blushed. The first notes of the orchestra filled the air. “Will my duchess give me the honour of this dance?” He asked as he bowed in front of her.
“Gladly.” She smiled at him, accepting his arm.
In the dance floor, she lifted her eyes to him and he lowered his to her in a lustful communication all the guests struggled to witness. The couple, however, seemed oblivious to everything around them.
The charge between them so hot and intense, she wondered how they didn’t catch fire on the spot. Her breasts pebbled, as liquid fire ran through her. She blushed, her pupils dilating. He revelled in the signs of her desire. As the music ceased, they curtsied to each other and separated.
She entered and locked the door to his study.
“What took you so long?” Philip asked, impatient.
“Lady Cunningham stopped me to inquire about father.” She used to delay a little to keep him…eager.
Whenever they felt this…inexorable craving, they had a secret signal to meet somewhere quiet. Philip would press her forefinger trice, they’d separate and meet in a private place they’d spotted earlier, if somewhere else. The signal always meant the study if they entertained in Crompton house or the manor.
“She’s decided to drag him to the altar, I gather.” He commented knowingly, while pulling her to him.
“It’ll be good for him.” She let herself go willingly.
He lay her on the desk, his deft hands pulling her skirts up to discover her secrets. “Selene?” He murmured mouth on her neck.
“Hm.” Her arms and legs embraced him.
“Where are your drawers?” His hand palming her bare buttock.
“Oh, dear!” She smiled naughtily. “I forgot to put them on.
His lips descended to her generous décolletage. “Again?” His voice husky, while the bulge in his trousers met her centre.
“It seems I’m making a habit of it.” She feigned repentance.
“How is a man to survive?” He drawled, opening himself.
She pulled him in and the conversation stopped abruptly as they drowned in sensation, their bodies expressing desire, love and mutual understanding.
Once more they celebrated their deep bond. Finally, Selene had achieved her dreams of a love match, while Philip felt so happy, he only wanted to cherish his beloved duchess every possible way.
Much later, they left the study to lead their guests into dinner.
The End
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The Forbidden Duchess – Lisa Torquay