by Tia Siren
*****
''The river is remarkably high for this time of year,'' Emily pointed out.
''Yes, there has been so much rain recently. It is a delightful pathway we are walking. It is as if we have been whisked away to a planet of our own. It's so serene.''
''If we wanted to, we could walk all the way to York along it. I have never done so, I keep within an easy distance of home, but I do like to explore some of the smaller paths leading from it. But Charles, enough of paths. I want to know why your father saw fit to disinherit his only son. Tell me why.''
''It is a very private matter and one that I have not spoken of, to anyone but my mother.''
''Please forgive my intrusive nature, I really am intolerable sometimes.''
''I attacked my father in such an aggressive way, he was hospitalized for a short time,'' Charles blurted out.
Emily was shocked. ''You attacked your father? Why?''
''Because he is a scoundrel. He is continually unfaithful to my mother and one evening when she objected to his behavior, he beat her, brutally. When I saw her black eyes and busted lips, I was unable to control my anger.''
''What a horrible situation for you, my poor dear. I am quite shocked.'' She put her hand on his arm in a gesture of support, but he pulled it away from her.
''Emily, whatever you feel for me and, however, my situation came about, it is inappropriate for you and me to touch. You are compromised on two fronts. First by my stupidity in entering into this ridiculous auction and second by my financial situation. I am endangering you. As soon as the auction is finished, I will wish you well and leave your life forever.''
''Charles, stop walking and look at me.'' When he'd told her about the situation with his mother, Emily had stopped walking, hoping he would do the same. She'd wanted to comfort him, but he'd just carried on. ''Charles stop, damn you.''
He stopped. her harsh words ringing in his ears. When he turned to her, she could see more sorrow in his eyes, and it pained her greatly. ''You will not leave my life. I forbid it. I have never met a man like you. I don't care that you are the most handsome man I have ever seen. More important is that you are a man of principal and a man who cares passionately about people. Especially women. You will take those few steps back to me, take me in your arms and kiss me, this instant.''
''Oh Emily. I cannot do that. I vowed to myself that I would not touch you. You don't seem to understand. I have told you several times. I will repeat myself. I have no means to keep you. Do you want a life of poverty?''
''I don't care about money. It is you I want. If you will not love me, then I will never marry any man.''
''Then you will remain single. In the first months of our marriage, you would be happy, but as time went by, a life of poverty would eat away at that happiness. You don't know what you are asking me to do. You are asking me to take you down a path that will ultimately lead to misery, and I won't do that to you.''
''Mr. Carrington, you are quite the most frustrating man I believe it is possible to encounter. I know you are doing this for the right reasons. However, without you, what substance would my life have? I understand your point of view, but you must change it. I demand you do so.''
''I do not react kindly to ultimatums, Emily. You may follow me back to the house from where I will take my leave of you, or you may continue the walk alone. In either case, this is the very last time you will see me. I bid you farewell.”
*****
''Emily, please dry your tears. Here, take this,'' Beatrice passed her a handkerchief.
''Now tell me, what is so bad that you have held onto me and constantly cried for the last ten minutes?''
''Those three arrogant, cruel men.''
''What about them?''
''You know I want Charles, desperately?''
''Yes, I remember how upset you were when he left you. And if you want my opinion you should forget him.''
''I can't forget him. I am in love with him, and the worst of it is.......oh Beatrice.'' Emily began to sob again.
''Dear cousin, it pains me so much to see you like this. If Mr. Carrington has no means and refuses to be with you, what can you do? You have little choice but to accept it and carry on with your life.''
''To make matters worse. I have learned from the Duke that he is going to bid the sum of twenty thousand pounds for me, and I also know that Mr. Masters is unable to bid so much. I am going to be stuck with that arrogant, conceited man, and I can't stand the thought. The plans I had to manipulate the bidding in my favor have come to nothing. The Duke simply has too much money and has decided to outbid everyone regardless.''
''And what has Mr. Carrington been bidding.''
''A pittance. The other two have been laughing at him. But Beatrice, the man I love has no money and certainly not twenty thousand pounds. That is enough to keep a peasant family for a thousand years. I am trapped in a terrible situation.''
''No, you are not. You are an independent woman, and you are strong. Simply tell whoever wins the auction that you are not interested in courting them.''
''But how can I refuse the advances of a Duke. If I refuse, my mother and father will see me into a sanatorium.''
''No, they will not. You are being melodramatic now. Let the men have their fun and be done with them.'' Beatrice held Emily tightly and stroked her hair as Emily sobbed into her shoulder.
*****
''Cabby, can you travel any faster?''
''It's the fog, Sir. I don't want to run anyone over.''
''Well go as fast as you can. We have no time to spare.'' Charles looked at his friend James. ''Thank you so much for doing this. It is a favor I will never be able to repay.''
''Not at all Charles. You are a dear friend, and it is I who will never be able to repay you. You remember how you fought off that prefect at school? The one who wanted to give me twenty lashes. Well, if it hadn't been for you knocking him unconscious, I would still have the scars across my backside.''
''Now remember what I told you. Just knock on the door and enter, don't wait for him to open it. We need to catch him in the act. Clear?''
''Clear as crystal.''
''Here we are, Sir, number twenty-one,'' the cabby said, relieved his horse hadn't killed anyone in the pea soup fog that had enveloped London earlier that afternoon.
Charles got out and paid the cabby. He looked at number twenty-one. It was a large house with black railings. The front door was black with a large brass door knocker at its center. The curtains were closed, and Charles knew why.
He knocked on the door. Mrs. Pearson answered. She looked at the two young gentlemen and smiled. ''Good evening, gentlemen. Please come inside, out of the damp air.''
''We have come on urgent business,'' Charles said. ''We are members of staff of the Earl of Rochester. We urgently need to speak to him. It is a matter of state and a matter of the highest urgency.''
''Well, he can't be interrupted now, he is busy.''
''Madam, tell me where in this house we can find him or I will have your tongue cut out,'' Charles said violently. Mrs. Pearson didn't like the threatening look in his eyes and believed he was actually capable of performing such a terrible act on her.
''Room sixteen, first floor, second door on the left.''
The two men climbed the stairs as fast as they could. ''Here it is,'' Charles whispered. ''Now remember what we practiced?'' James nodded. ''Then go in and say your piece. I will wait here and at the right moment, I will come in'' Charles added.
James knocked on the door and opened it. Charles, standing next to the door so that he couldn't be seen, heard a man shout, ''What the hell......get out.......you........'' Then he heard James interrupt him.
''You are, I believe, the Ear of Rochester, the Minister for Family Affairs, are you not?''
''I am, and if you don't leave now, I will have you shot.''
James looked at the naked young lady lying next to him and threw her a dressing gown. ''Put this on and go downstairs,'' he
told her. When she had gone, he looked at the Earl, who was still as naked as the day he arrived into the world.
''Sir, I am James Arbuthnot. I am a journalist at the Times Newspaper. It is my job to hold politicians to account. As you are more aware than I, there is an election looming, and you are standing for re-election as the Member of Parliament for Bramham. Your message to the electorate seems to be one based on moral principles. I would like to ask you, Sir, if visiting a house of ill repute and, excuse me for using this word, fucking prostitutes, constitutes the moral high ground on which you are seeking election?''
''What do you want?'' The Earl asked. The Earl was in his late fifties and had a full head of graying hair. He was typically aristocratic looking, tall and slender.
''Very perceptive of you Earl. Let me lay my cards on the table. I am a friend of your son, Charles. It is my belief that you have wronged him. You have disinherited him and condemned him to a life of misery while you, Sir, are the real wrong doer. So let me come to the point. Unless you reinstate your son as your heir, I will print a story in the Times, telling its readers, what I have witnessed here this evening. I doubt very much if, after that, you will be able to grace the House of Commons with your presence ever again. In fact, I wager you will be ruined.''
*****
''Charles,” Emily shrieked as he passed the butler and walked into the drawing room at Priory Manor.
''Calm yourself Emily and listen to what I have to say.'' Emily's was so excited to see him that she was unable to control her breathing. ''I have wronged you.....''
''Oh Charles please, not all that again,'' Emily interrupted. ''You have told me a thousand times, how you have wronged me and how your position won't allow you to court me. I know that, so please come to the point.''
''I love you.”
Emily sank back onto the sofa, her mouth open in disbelief. ''What?''
''I love you, and I have won the auction, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. That is if you'll have me, after all, I have put you through.''
As the tears rolled down Emily's face, she stood up and kissed him for the first time. It was a passionate lingering kiss that promised much for their future together. When their lips finally parted, Emily said,'' I have a thousand questions.''
''Then ask them,'' he said as he placed soft kisses on her neck.
''How on earth did you come into enough money to win the auction?''
''Blackmail, next question?''
''How did you know how much to bid to be certain of winning?''
''Beatrice told me it should be more than twenty thousand pounds. Next question?''
''The next question is indelicate.''
''Speak it, my dear.''
''Will you take me to bed?''
''And where are your parents?''
''In London, they will be back in three days.''
Emily and Charles stood in her bedroom and looked at one another for the slightest of moments before they flew at each other. It was their first sexual encounter, and they were in no mood to hold back. As their lips met, Charles reached behind Emily's back and began to undo the buttons on her dress. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, desperately wanting to feel his lips press into hers. She was searching for a release from the tension of the previous weeks, and his lips were her starting point.
She opened her mouth wider as his tongue invited her to. Emily felt a fire burning inside her as she took in his masculine scent. Her dress was open now, and Charles pushed it down to the floor, eagerly. When he stood before her without his shirt, Emily was able to see the magnificent physique she would have the pleasure of touching in all the years to come.
She ran her hands over his chest and let her thumbs drift lightly over his nipples. She leaned into him and placed seductive kisses onto his chest. They kissed more as Charles felt inside her undergarments eager to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands. As he fondled her, Emily sighed, feeling his strong hands holding her in a way she had never thought possible just minutes ago.
Charles was eager to see her naked, and she gasped as he ripped her petticoat from her. Buttons and clips flew over the floor as Emily's breasts were revealed to his sight for the first time. He bent down and took a nipple into his mouth, feeling it harden as he did so. She put her hand on the back of his head and encouraged him to suck her harder. He swooped to her other breast and did the same and Emily began to feel real heat rising from her sex.
She wanted him inside her, to feel him fill her with his desire and take her to a dangerous place. Emily's petticoat was hanging from her hips. She bent down, pulled it off her and pulled down her knickers. Naked, she pulled Charles to her. He felt her nipples, erect and hard, push into his chest as their tongues played with one another. He reached down and felt her buttocks, cool to his touch. He cheekily pulled them apart, and they laughed. His head was beginning to spin at the scent to her, and he wanted to lie with her. He maneuvered her to the bed and pushed her down onto it. He looked at her gorgeous curves and the soft curls at the place he wanted most.
Emily wasn't' going to lie passively as he undressed himself, she wanted to discover him. She knelt up in front of him and smiled as she slowly rubbed her hands over his imprisoned shaft. She felt it twitch. She loved this man, and she wanted him to know that she was desperate for him. His belt gave way, and her delicate fingers opened the buttons at his front. He moaned as she put her hand inside and found his manhood. Her hand stroked him fast, and he was worried that he would ejaculate. There was only one place he wanted to ejaculate and that was inside his beautiful lover. He moved her hand away and rid himself of his trousers and pants. He was dismayed when Emily took him in her hand and started to stroke again.
He had to stop her insatiable onslaught, or he would come in her hand. He placed his hands on her shoulders and shoved her back onto the bed. As he did so, her pelvis bounced back up at him. He took hold of her under her bottom, forced her legs open with his shoulder and placed his mouth on her most secret place. Emily came instantly. He saw her fists clench the sheets as she pushed her sex against his mouth. When he let go of her, she was shaking and on a plateau, she never wished to return from.
He wanted her now. He was done with playing. Now he was going to take his future wife, and he was going to show her how much he wanted her.
Emily was still shaking when he put his penis at her opening and eased himself into her. The feeling was indescribable, and she felt more intense waves rising within her. When he began to move inside her, she came again. He cried out as her nails raked down his back, finally sinking themselves into his taught buttocks.
When Emily whispered, ''faster my love,'' Charles felt himself losing control. He wanted to make it last, and he knew if he answered her wishes, he would soon come. He decided there would be many more times and gave her what she desired. He thrust into her faster pushing her up the bed, against the headboard. Emily felt him hit her clitoris with every down stroke, and when she felt his body begin to tighten, she looked him in the eyes and said, ''Now, give yourself to me.''
They came together in one wet wave.
Then Emily whispered, “And that was the bet of the season.”
*****
THE END
A Lady’s Reward – A Regency Romance
The Village of Ashworthy was large by English standards. Most of it was owned by Mr. Daniel Pickford, the owner of the mill where a high percentage of the population worked. Mr. Pickford demanded much of his employees. He was one of the new rich, part of the an elite group of industrialists whose wealth had multiplied incalculably during the industrial revolution. For those unfortunate enough to work for him, it was a living hell. Fifteen-hour shifts for little pay, six days a week.
Victoria was just eighteen, but she had already been working in the mill for three years. She was by far the most beautiful woman at the mill, and Mr. Pickford had earmarked her for a job as one of his assistants. Mr. Pickford's assistants didn
't work in the traditional sense of the word. They waited. It was not their job to turn up at the mill and do a shift with the others; it was their job to go to Mr. Pickord's special cottage and make sure they looked pretty, in case he came to see them. As Mr. Pickford liked to have plenty of choice, he had four assistants. He always chose young unmarried women; he didn't care for husbands. They caused him to look over his shoulder too much. Victoria was next on the list as soon as one of the current incumbents decided to marry.
''You ain't like us,'' Mary had told Victoria when she'd first come to the mill from the village school. ''You're posh.'' Mary was the forewoman and not to be quarreled with. Victoria had been terrified on her fist day, indeed the first week, and the greeting Mary had given her, had done nothing to improve her state of mind. She'd taken comfort in the fact that almost the whole of her school class had come to work there with her. They all thought she was posh too, but they were used to her ways.
''You're far too intelligent to go to the mill,'' Mr. Jameson, her teacher, had told her. ''You should school yourself some more, and be a teacher, or at the very least a governess.''
''But sir, we have very little money, and I'm afraid if I don't work, we may want for food,'' she'd replied. ''My father is not well, and as you know, my mother passed away three years ago.''
Victoria lived with her father in a small cottage for which they paid rent to Mr. Pickford. Her father also worked at the mill and had done so since before Victoria was born. He was well spoken and gentle. The village had been rife with speculation when he'd arrived to live there with his well-to-do wife, for it was obvious that they didn't belong in a small cottage or at the mill. The rumor that held most credit among the villagers was that he'd been disinherited for marrying an Irish woman.
Her parents didn't tell her much about their lives before Ashworthy. All she knew was that her father was English, and her mother Irish. Her mother had mentioned Cork a few times but nothing more. What Victoria did know, was that her mother had an Irish temper. Red haired and fiery, the villagers preferred to keep out of her way.