“Ladies, I think it's time for us to retire as well. It has been a long arduous few days for us all.”
The following morning, Cici arose early to see her family off. Her father was never one to dally about and always preferred an early start when traveling. She kissed her mama and papa good-bye before turning to her sister.
Elizabeth waited until her parents were out of hearing distance before turning on Cici. “Well you have done quite well for yourself, haven’t you? Imagine my clumsy, chubby little sister a Duchess?” Her voice dripped with scorn and jealousy. “All of this would have been mine if you hadn’t stolen Andrew away from me.”
Cici was speechless. What had gotten into her sister? Elizabeth had felt been the one that had plotted and schemed to get out of an arrangement with him.
“I guess it’s for the best, since I wouldn’t put up with a husband who keeps a mistress.”
Finding her voice she shook her head. “He set her aside weeks ago. He told me.”
Laughing mockingly, Elizabeth added fuel to the fire of doubt she was creating in Cici. “You are a naïve little twit, Cici. Andrew and his widow were together just days after you wed. Surely you didn’t think he would change his roguish ways by marrying you. The widow is beautiful and worldly, a far cry from an 18-year old-frump like you.”
“Why are you being so deliberately cruel to me, Elizabeth?” Tears shimmered in her eyes. Her sister was selfish but she had never been this malicious.
“Nonsense, I am just being honest. As your sister, I feel it is my duty to let you know the kind of man you married. I actually find myself vindicated by my little ruse. Despite him becoming a Duke, I can’t imagine if I’d actually had to marry the horrid man.” Giving her sister an insincere look of concern, she hugged her and was gone.
Cici’s tongue was frozen in shock over Elizabeth’s claim and she could only stand and gape after her sister as the coach rolled down the drive and back toward London. Had Andrew really resumed his liaison with the widow? He had promised to be true to her, had that all been a lie? Turning back to the manor, she found the grief in the house was the perfect foil for her dejected mood. She didn’t know what to believe.
Chapter Nine
The family again went into deep mourning, the women isolated in their country home and wearing heavily veiled bonnets and weighty black gowns when venturing out. The dowager was still in her widow’s weeds from her late-husband’s passing less than a year earlier. Etiquette called for her to stay in deep mourning for another year now. After that she could graduate to half mourning and wear grays and lavender as she resumed a limited social schedule. If no other losses were experienced, it would be two long years of mourning at least. Her Majesty Queen Victoria had established this extended mourning period following the death of Prince Albert. She had only recently emerged from mourning after marking the four-year anniversary of her husband’s death.
Andrew and Cici remained at the ducal estate for another two weeks before returning to town. Women bore the brunt of grief and mourning in society and sequestered themselves during the mourning period. Conversely, men were not held to such strict standards and were quickly allowed to return to work or their political duties. Their mourning garb was less restrictive; at times only a black hat-band or armband was required to indicate they were enduring a personal loss. In honor of his brother, Andrew elected to wear full mourning for the month after his death. And so he returned to Parliament in a black frock coat, waistcoat, and tweed trousers, this time to take his seat as the new Duke of Sommerville.
Being back in town was less hectic socially for the new duchess. Restricted from attending balls, fetes and soirees while in full mourning, she still had a barrage of visitors at their Hanover Square town home. One of the first was her mother, Lady Benton who arrived with a reluctant Elizabeth.
Her mother greeted her effusively, “Your Grace, so good to have you back in town.”
Cici protested, “Mother really, such formality is unnecessary and rather awkward don’t you think?”
“Of course, it is simply that I am still trying to get used to it and I find it easier if I keep repeating it.”
“Really mother? When is it going to take? You’ve managed to include it in every conversation in the past few weeks.” Elizabeth mimicked her mother’s voice perfectly. “My daughter the most noble Duchess of Sommerville... or, my daughter Her Grace. And then there is my daughter the Duchess this or my daughter the Duchess that, it has really become quite tiresome.”
Ignoring her eldest daughter’s mockery she effused to Cici, “I have never had more invitations. Your rise in stature has opened many doors socially for your father and me.”
Elizabeth gave a much undignified snort. “You’d think her nibs here had hung the moon for all the folderol.” Her tone took on a whiny quality as she spoke her bitter and jealous words. “Here I sit, the firstborn sister without a sign of a Duke or Marquess coming up to scratch. Really, the title should have been mine.” Leaning forward she taunted Cici in a whisper, “have you asked the Duke about Lady Winslow, yet?”
Cici could not take another moment. “If you’ve only come to torment and insult me sister, then you really should be on your way. This house is in mourning and I won’t have anyone upset with your pettiness and jealousy.”
Elizabeth, who was in rare form, dipped into a regal curtsy and simpered, “Most Noble Duchess, please forgive this lowly lady who simply laments her sister’s theft of a suitor.”
“Theft? You set the whole damnable thing up yourself.” Cici’s face was a vision of outrage as she sputtered in indignation at her sister’s words. “You were the one who didn’t want a mere Viscount. Now you are jealous of the sister you called unfashionable and clumsy. For years you have belittled me for everything; my hair, my height, my frame, my freckles. No matter how many sonnets men write about your practically nonexistent diddies, you’ve got your dander up because I married before you, and to a Duke at that. Now at the ripe old age of twenty you are in danger of becoming a spinster.” She gasped in mock outrage, “Surely a fate worse than death. Well sister dear, you have no one to blame but yourself. You didn’t want Andrew and acted like a conniving bitch when you conspired to avoid his suit by ruining my reputation.
“And thank the good Lord she did.” The deep male voice flowed smoothly into the room startling the already agitated women. They turned to him at once. Lady Benton appearing eager to be in the presence of the rarely seen new Duke, ignored her daughter’s bickering, chalking it up to sibling rivalry. Elizabeth and Cici both looking distressed - the former for getting caught in a public display of pettiness, which she usually reserved only for family and the latter mortified and wondering how long he had been standing there. Goodness gracious, she had just called her sister a bitch and used some exclamations that she normally wouldn’t have used at all, especially not in Andrew’s presence. Had he heard her less than ladylike harangue? Her questions were answered immediately.
“Although I don’t agree with some of your rather unsavory language, my dear, the message is right on target. Lady Richards, if you don’t have a purpose for your visit such as kindness or support for your sister’s new position, then I must insist that you end your visit and only return when you can keep a civil tongue.” That barb tossed, he turned to face his mother-in-law of only a month. “Lady Benton, although I would never begrudge a mother visiting her daughter, please in the future leave your sharp-tongued daughter at home if you cannot better control the child.” He held out a summoning hand to Cici. “Now, since this visit is over. I am in need of Her Grace’s presence.”
Cici rose, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the expressions on her mother and sister’s faces. Not only was Andrew an expert at physical punishment, it seemed he was rather adept at verbal chastisement as well. He had summarily put her sister in her place and given her mother room for pause.
As they left the room the Duke could clearly be heard telling h
is wife, “Your father must be a saint to put up with such a shrew for a daughter.”
Andrew escorted his wife to his study where he guided her into one of the large leather chairs before turning to lock the door. Taking his place before his desk, he leaned back against it and folded his arms as he waited for Cici’s mirth to die down. “I’m glad you found that scene so amusing. Especially since you were in a fit of pique when I entered just a few minutes ago.”
“Oh Andrew, you have a wickedly acerbic tongue. Never have I seen Elizabeth so roundly censured. I couldn’t help but admire your skill, and well… after what she said and how she mocked me and mother, I found it lightened my mood considerably. Thank you, husband,” she commended as she smiled in delight at her handsome spouse.
“And I did it without reverting to cursing and vulgar language. Imagine that.” That effectively wiped the smile from Cici’s face and she paled as her near future loomed dismally before her. “I am afraid I am going to be doing something to change that mood momentarily.”
Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he gazed upon his innocent looking young bride who still amazed him with her unruly tongue. As he began to lecture he noted with surprise that he sounded remarkably like his father. “I believe we both agreed to watch our language, didn’t we? At the time I was worried about the cant, but now I walk in to find you cursing like a sailor. Surely a well-bred young lady would have been more sheltered during her formative years, so I wonder where you keep getting exposed to it now. Therefore, I must insist on knowing where you keep picking up such language so I can remove you from such negative influences.”
“I spend an excessive amount of time about the stables.” She offered this thinking it was a reasonable excuse.
“Hah! I know you didn’t hear such filth in my stables. Try again.”
Not wanting to implicate her father who possessed a rough tongue, she insisted. “I am sure it must have been papa’s stables, My Lord, or maybe from books?”
Shaking his head he walked to the corner of his study where he removed a hurricane lamp and a book from a chair side table. Too worried about her poor bottom, she didn’t notice him moving the table out to the center of the room, lifting the lid and opening drawers. When dared to look over at him, she saw that he had converted the clever table into a kneeling bench.
“It can’t be Maggie bringing you such inappropriate reading material; she is still in the country with mother. I’m sure I have cleared out everything questionable from James’ library. So, I guess I will need to begin reviewing your selections from Hatchard's. Although with the Obscenity Publication Act in force I doubt that have illegal materials.”
“I hardly think that’s necessary, Andrew. I promise to behave.”
“Mm, hm… I’ve heard that before. Come here, Cecilia.”
She rose reluctantly and moved to stand before him.
“Turn around please.”
Afraid to question or disobey, she turned her back toward him as ordered. She felt him unbuttoning her gown. “This style of dress is much to my liking for home. Although I have to take the entire thing off, it is so much more practical than those hoops and crinolines. And more comfortable for you, I’m sure.”
“It is a new princess gown.” Cici plucked at her black mourning dress which was a one piece dress fitted at the waist with clever seaming that flattered her figure. Instead of billowing hoops and crinolines, a few layers of soft petticoats sufficiently filled out the full skirt. It was infinitely more comfortable for day-to-day wear.
He slipped the gown over her shoulders and removed her two petticoats by untying them at the waist. This left her in her corset, chemise, drawers and stockings. “Kneel on the bench, please.” He waited until she settled on the kneeler which was about a foot above the floor so her feet were without leverage. Andrew had been eager to try out the bench since James had shown it to him. He knew that when she bent forward her full bottom would be at the perfect height for his attentions.
“We’ll leave the corset on with a few adjustments.” He pulled her chemise down baring her breasts. They sat atop her corset like an offering to him. Unable to resist he caressed each mound and tweaked the nipples firmly. “So lovely, my dear, too bad we have to spend our precious time together engaged in discipline instead of pleasure. Now, bend over.”
After she took her place, he adjusted her position so the upper platform of the bench supported her rib cage and abdomen. Her breasts were left to hang over the plank, free to play with or chastise as necessary. She wasn’t ready for the latter yet, but he enjoyed looking at her nearly naked and positioned submissively before him. Next, Andrew pulled her chemise up over her bottom and left it bunched at her waist. This revealed her loose drawers and her black stockings. Making quick work of the drawers which now sat around her bent knees, her bare bottom was prettily framed by the remaining silk stockings. Unable to resist the tantalizing display, his warm hand caressed her wide hips and buttocks. She wiggled and adjusted her position under his hand. SMACK!
“Stay still, Cecilia. Move your knees apart and get your balance.”
Obediently she spread her knees apart and found the position much more comfortable and stable. Hearing his footsteps crossing the room she glanced over her shoulder to see what he was doing. Surely the one smack was not the extent of this punishment.
“Eyes forward, and stay in the position I have placed you in.”
She heard a splash and then a whippy noise through the air. Confounded by the sounds she still kept her position, reluctant to add to her upcoming punishment. Heavy footsteps sounded and momentarily he was standing beside her.
“Look at me, Cecilia.”
She instantly turned her head in compliance then gasped in alarm when she saw the tied bundle of sticks he held in his hand.
“Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head negatively, but as she stared at the ominous looking punishment tool a feeling of dread crept over her.
“This is a birching rod, something that I’m afraid you will become overly familiar with until you curb that tongue of yours. You sound more like an East End harridan than my duchess.” He began to lecture again. “Although I understand your anger toward your sister, I cannot tolerate such language from your lips. As my wife, your actions must always be above reproach. Although I don’t often heed town gossip, the scandalmongers can be vicious toward ladies and I won’t have your name bandied about as the latest on dit over afternoon tea. We already have our impromptu marriage to deal with.”
“I’m sorry My Lord,” she murmured not noticing she had reverted to formal address. She found it ironic that he was so concerned about her creating a scandal. How much gossip would it cause if it became known that her new husband had taken up with his old paramour within days of his marriage? Cici would be a laughing stock. Not to mention if she found it to be true, she would be devastated and wouldn’t know how to forgive him.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes My Lord.” Cici had no idea what else he had rambled about, and she bowed her head, nervously gripping her fingers around the edge of the bench hoping he wouldn’t ask. She was prepared to wait patiently until he finished his lecture and was ready to pronounce sentence. Andrew always waxed long when he was teaching her a lesson.
“That’s twice now so we’ll add that to your tally as well.” He patted her bottom gently when she sent him a confused look. “You do realize that you use my formal title when you are worried or anxious, don’t you?”
“I do?”
“Yes, you have been ‘My Lording’ me since we entered the study. Maybe during punishment it seems most appropriate to you since I am enforcing my authority over you. And at times like these Lord and Master indeed sounds applicable, but I still don’t like.”
Cici inhaled sharply. Was he serious? She absolutely refused to call him master no matter the cost to her bare bottom.
“Are you ready for your chastisement then, Cecilia? The b
irch rod is famous for its sting.”
“Have you ever been birched, My Lord?” She simply could not call him master.
“That’s three, and yes I have felt the sting of the birch. In fact, my father took the rod to me often as a lad. Once I took one of his guns on a hunting expedition and he lathered me good. Over a hundred strokes if I remember correctly.”
Upright instantly upon hearing that ridiculously high number she begged him, “Oh Andrew, please. I am sorry for my behavior and I understand the need for punishment but one hundred strokes, that many would surely kill me.”
Putting a large hand between her shoulder blades, he gently guided her back over the bench. “Remain in position or I will bind you. You are going to have to trust me, wife. I am your husband and have no intention of harming you. Understand that when I give correction it is to provide guidance for your wellbeing and the good of our marriage. The birch will raise a good bit of fire on your skin, but I will be careful not to cut you and the way I employ it, it very rarely bruises.”
He paused to caress her exposed skin. Soft, smooth and pale, it was flawless considering her last spanking had been their first night at Arrandale which was over a week ago. He had gone easy on her then being new to his discipline.
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