The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella

by Caylen McQueen

  Chapter Nine

  They had already been to the modiste, and now they were on their way to the milliner. Arthur was suffering, though he tried not to show it. He had seen enough lace and flounce and fripperies to last a lifetime.

  “So, Willow, remind me again...” Arthur began, “why wasn't Edward forced to come?”

  “Because I want my wedding day appearance to be a surprise!” Willow seized her brother's arm and dragged him across the street. Her other arm was coiled around Emilia, her treasured companion of the day. Willow had been spoiling the girl with dresses and jewelry. Emilia was supposed to wear to them at the wedding—which was now only two days away. “When he sees me walking down the aisle, I want to take his breath away!”

  “You mean, like you're taking my breath away?” Arthur teased her. “You sampled so many perfumes, you smell like a botanical garden.”

  “That doesn't sound like a bad thing. I love floral scents!” As Willow tugged her brother into the hat shop, Emilia flashed him a sympathetic frown. She knew he was miserable. Being surrounded in ladies' fashions was surely a gentleman's nightmare! “Will you help me choose a hat, Emilia? I am sure I will not wear it during the ceremony, but I can never resist the temptation to buy myself a hat!”

  “I suppose I can give you my opinion,” Emilia offered.

  Willow patted the younger girl's cheek. “Good! And I'll buy you a hat as well! Arthur... wait here. Emilia and I are going to browse.”

  Arthur responded with a nod, because a nod was all he could manage. His eyes were fixed on the window, where he caught sight of Brittley Christian. Brittley was hovering around the hat shop, not unlike a wolf would hover around its imminent pray. “I'll have to keep my eye on him...” Arthur whispered to himself. If Brittley attempted to approach Emilia, as Arthur feared he might, he would be there to prevent it.

  Several minutes later, Willow returned with a couple of hat boxes, which she handed to her brother. “You'll carry them for us, won't you.” It was more of a demand than a question.

  “Of course.” Even though his hands were full, Arthur managed to hold the door for the ladies as they exited the milliner's.

  “Where else should we venture, Emilia? I don't think I've quite gotten my fill. The urge to shop has not left my system.”

  “Hmm...” Emilia tapped her chin as she glanced around at the neighboring shops. “I wouldn't mind looking at some books.”

  “Books.” Willow tried to hide her lack of enthusiasm, but it was written all over her face. “Very well. Lead the way!”

  Arthur trailed a few paces behind the ladies. Not only was he carrying their hat boxes, he was carrying all of the day's purchases. Willow didn't want her fiance to see what she was buying; nevertheless, Arthur wished the other man was around to share his burden. To make matters worse, he had somehow managed to lose sight of Brittley. “I'll just have to keep an eye on Emilia now,” he silently decided.

  When they were inside the book store, Arthur asked, “Emilia... would you like me to recommend some of my favorite novels?”

  “I would like that, Arthur,” she answered with a smile. “I'd like that very much.”

  “Ohhh no no no!” Willow protested. “If I were you, I would not heed his recommendations! Arthur likes moody gothic novels and epic adventures that take months to read!”

  “Oh, and I suppose you would be the better authority on books, sister?”

  “I am!” Willow plucked a copy of Pride & Prejudice from the shelves and presented it to Emilia. “I confess I haven't read anything in quite some time, but I would recommend this with all my heart! It makes you believe in the possibility of love.”

  “Thank you, Willow. I will most definitely read it.” Emilia clutched the book to her chest and circled around the shelf. Arthur was lured to another section of the store, where he browsed his preferred shelf. He was suddenly so engrossed that he failed to notice Brittley Christian had entered the store.

  Brittley stalked Emilia to the corner of the bookstore, where her favorite serials were on display. When she saw him approach, she let out an audible gasp. “Mr. Christian!”

  “Shhh!” He held a gloved finger over her lips. “Your guardian has been watching me, so I have to make this quick.”

  “My guardian?!”

  “Arthur Rochefort,” Brittley exclaimed. “I think he considers himself your protector.”

  Emilia clutched her copy of Pride & Prejudice even tighter. “And do I need protection from you, Mr. Christian?”

  “Of course not. I can be honorable... if I must.” Brittley grabbed her hand and slipped a note into her palm. “I wrote you a letter, in which I describe my innermost passions. Do not read it until you are alone, Emilia.”

  “I don't know if I should be accepting letters from a gentleman. It's--”

  “Not proper?” Brittley curled her knuckles, forcing her to grip the letter. “You'll read it. I know you will. Your curiosity will get the better of you.”

  “Mr. Christian, I--”

  Before she could protest, he turned on his heel and swiftly exited the store, careful not to alert Arthur to his presence. Fortunately for Brittley, Arthur was the bookish type. His eyes never wandered from the shelves.

  After making a few purchases, Emilia reunited with Arthur and Willow, then they left the store and returned to their carriage. Emilia was silent for the duration of the journey, but she knew there was a telltale blush on her cheeks. She slipped Brittley's note into her reticule and prayed she wouldn't arouse the suspicions of her companions.

  As soon as they returned to Sanborne Hall, Emilia alighted from the carriage, grabbed her haul, uttered a curt farewell, and hurried to her room. With a racing heart, she leapt on her bed and tore open Brittley's letter.

  Dearest Emilia,

  Last night, I dreamt of you. I wish I could close my eyes and return to that world, as wondrous as it was. I know I will lie awake tonight, restless, wishing it was real. Even now, as I write this letter, I find myself daydreaming about my dream.

  Now that I have piqued your curiosity, allow me to describe it for you. You were naked in my bed. Every inch of your skin was exposed, ready for my wandering hands to explore. I stroked your silky calves, devoured your lips, suckled your milky skin. I was drunk with passion, intoxicated by the taste of you.

  I would go into greater detail, but I am afraid I would only frighten you. I have already said enough, more than I should divulge to a lady. However, I simply could not resist the urge to tell you exactly how I feel. I long for you. You are my passion, my desire, my daily madness. The only thing that could possibly end my pain is to have you.

  Have you not wondered what it would be like to lie in my arms, to kiss my lips? Unexplored pleasures await you, my dearest Emilia, and I want to be the man who introduces you to them. Is it not a temptation to have an attentive lover? I could release you from your ordinary life and introduce you to a world of wonder and passion. You need only ask, and I would be yours.

  Longing for you,

  Brittley Christian

  When she finished the letter, Emilia was shaking her head with disbelief. It was the most scandalous thing she had ever read, but it was titillating nonetheless. She was as terrified by it as she was excited.

  “Perhaps I should show it to Arthur?” she whispered to herself. “He would protect me from any... unwelcome advances.”

  Emilia read the letter a second time, as well as a third time, and then she came to a surprising conclusion.

  Brittley's advances would not be entirely unwelcome.

  Chapter Ten

  It was the happiest day of Willow's life; everything was perfect. It was a modest ceremony, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. Only a dozen friends had gathered at the small country church, the simple stone edifice where the wedding took place. As the vicar joined them in holy matrimony, Willow couldn't stop staring into Edward's eyes. In them, she could see her future, her absolution, her eternity. His love was enough
to wash away the sins of her past. After this day, she would truly feel reborn.

  Willow wore a white gown of muslin and lace, and a thin gossamer shawl enveloped her shoulders. Edward was dressed to the nines, and he was more handsome than she had ever seen him. As he recited his vows, he didn't stutter a single time, a fact that had Willow beaming with pride.

  When the vicar announced them as husband and wife, Edward kissed his bride, swept her into his arms, and carried her to the carriage outside. Their well-wishers, though sparse in number, howled cheers of exaltation for the new couple. After Edward placed her in the carriage, Arthur went to his sister's side.

  “You look beautiful, Willow,” Arthur praised her.

  “That sounds awfully genuine, coming from you.”

  “Well, it's true. Edward is a lucky man... and you're a lucky woman.”

  “We're a lucky couple,” she agreed. “I'm happy to have found a man such as him.” Willow pulled a flower from her bouquet and slipped it into the pocket of his greatcoat. “You'll visit us in London, won't you?”

  “Of course.” The carriage was about to begin its voyage, so he took a step backward.

  “I daresay you'll be next!” When she saw the confusion on her brother's face, she quickly added, “The next to be married, I mean! You'll find your happiness soon enough. I can feel it!”

  “Oh, so you fancy yourself a seer now?”

  “I do!” Willow exclaimed. Emilia Harcourt was standing a few feet behind Arthur. Was Willow wrong to think he had a tendre for the girl? He was, after all, terribly overprotective of her.

  “Well, I'm in no hurry to get married,” Arthur said. “As soon as there is someone in my life who is worth marrying, you will be the first to know.”

  “Are you sure there isn't anyone now?” Willow asked. Edward, who was sitting in the carriage beside her, reached for his new bride's hand.

  “Of course not. There is no one worth marrying, I can assure you,” Arthur said. He tapped on the side of the carriage, signaling to the driver that it was time for the landau to depart. “Have a safe voyage, Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt! I will call on you as soon as I can!”

  Little did he know, Emilia was standing directly behind him.

  And he had crushed her heart.

  * * *

  As he stared at his wife in the candlelight, Edward could feel his body stiffen. More specifically, he could feel a particular portion of his body getting stiff. Willow was standing at the foot of the bed, clad only in her nightrail, and the candlelight put the outline of her body on display. In a few short minutes, she would be removing her clothes, and that fact caused his forehead to erupt with beads of perspiration.

  What if I'm a terrible lover? What if I disappoint her? As the time of consummation drew near, his fears became more and more prevalent.

  “You look so handsome,” Willow said.

  “I-I-I do?”

  “Yes. And you're lucky I'm not on the bed with you right now, or you would receive your obligatory pinch.” She grinned at him. “Now... remove your shirt.”

  “I-I...” Edward had a lump in his throat, and no matter how many times he swallowed, it wouldn't go away. He was already down to his shirtsleeves and breeches. He had never been with a woman, nor had he been naked in front of a woman, nor had he seen a woman's naked body. He felt as if his entire body was petrified with anticipation and trepidation.

  “Your shirt, please.” Willow held out her hand. “I need it.”

  As smoothly as he could, Edward whisked his shirt over his head and tossed it at her. When the shirt was off, he lay on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head. Edward was quite skinny, but she was surprised by the muscle definition in his stomach.

  “I'm going to remove my nightrail now,” she warned him. “Are you prepared?”

  “Fully pr-pre-prepared,” he stammered. His vision was fuzzy, every breath was strained, and his heart was near to exploding. If she didn't remove her clothes soon, the anticipation would be the death of him.

  Willow peeled up the nightrail, revealing her legs and thighs. She spun in a circle, giving him a glimpse of all angles. With her back to him, she pulled the gown to her waist. His eyes were anchored to her naked behind, and when she turned around, he felt his loins lurch. Willow tugged the nightrail until it was over her head, then she tossed it to her feet. She was completely naked, exposed to him, and his eyes drank in every inch of her body.

  Willow leapt onto the bed and crawled on top of him. She laid her bare chest against him and covered his mouth with a kiss. As their tongues entwined, Willow fumbled with his breeches. Taking charge of the situation, she tore them off, as well as his unmentionables. When she finished undressing him, she sat up and soaked in the sight of his naked body.

  “My husband,” she whispered. “It feels so wonderful to call you mine.”

  “And I can hardly believe you're my wife,” Edward said. “You're beautiful. Every inch of you is beautiful, Willow. You take my breath away.”

  Willow longed to have him touch her, to have his lips on every inch of her body, but she could sense his need for guidance. She seized Edward's hand and slipped it between her legs. As soon as his hand made contact with her womanhood, he moaned, so she silenced him with a kiss. With her hand on his, Willow guided his finger to the appropriate spot. In no time at all, she was the one who was moaning. She ground against his hand as he dipped a finger inside her.

  Her body rocked and trembled so violently, Edward didn't quite know what to make of it. As he withdrew his hand, he whispered, “Are you alright?”

  “More than alright,” she assured him, then she reached around to pinch his naked bottom. “And that is for your recent stutters!”

  “I can't help myself.” Edward cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “You make me nervous.”

  “There's no reason to be nervous.” Willow took his arm and cradled it to her chest, as tightly as she could. “It will be perfect, I promise.”

  All of a sudden, Willow sat up and mounted him. As she straddled his body, she ran her hands along his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she hovered above his manhood. This is it, her mind whispered. The love of my life will be inside me. This very moment is the best moment of my life.

  When he entered her, Willow moaned. She rocked against him, slowly at first, then savagely. As their bodies merged, Willow leaned down and covered his face with kisses. She clutched his hair, he suckled her neck, and she exploded with a wail of pure pleasure.

  Willow had been right about one thing.

  It was perfect.

  Chapter Eleven

  Each time she replayed them in her head, Arthur's words had a torturous effect on her.

  There is no one worth marrying.

  There is no one worth marrying, I can assure you.

  Ever since the wedding, Emilia had locked herself in her bedchamber. She didn't care to see anyone, especially not Arthur. It was supposed to be a felicitous day, and yet her pillow was saturated with tears. She was happy for her brother, to be sure, but her own heart was surging with pain. The more she cried, the more she was aware of her life's obvious and agonizing truths.

  She was falling in love with Arthur.

  But she would never be with him.

  Emilia wished she had never met him. She wished he would disappear from her life, that she would never have to see his face again. Soon enough, she would have her wish—she and her mother were leaving Sanborne Hall in two days. If she returned to London, Emilia was sure her heart would be free again. She tried to convince herself she wouldn't miss his puppy dog eyes, his warm smiles, his bountiful charm. He wasn't worth the thoughts she was sparing on him!

  “I hate him!” she bellowed into her pillow, but saying the words did not make them true. “I just want him to... to... go away!”

  Mr. Fibbles must have sensed her sorrow, because he leapt on the bed and settled his furry body on her chest. However, the cat's pres
ence seemed to magnify her sadness. As she stroked the tabby's tawny fur, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why did he have to be so perfect? Why couldn't he have one flaw I could harp on?!” Arthur's forehead scar came to mind, but it could hardly be considered a flaw when it only enhanced his appearance. “Why did he have to make me want him?!”

  All of a sudden, she heard a tap on her window. It surprised her as much as Mr. Fibbles, who raised his tail and unleashed a terrible yowl. When Emilia saw Brittley's face in the window, the hairs on her nape went rigid.

  “Mr. Christian?!”

  “Let me in!” she could hear him calling on the other side of the window. “Emilia, please!”

  Emilia's gaze went to her desk, where she kept Brittley's letter in a drawer. The scandalous missive had been on her mind ever since she had received it, and while she knew it was a terrible idea to let him enter her bedroom, her current mood drowned out her judgment. As soon as she opened her window, Brittley slipped through the frame and swaggered into her room as if he belonged there.

  “Good evening, Emilia. You're in good spirits, I hope?” When Brittley saw her tear-soaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, he added, “Well... it's quite obvious that you're not. What's troubling you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Brittley sat on the end of her bed. Mr. Fibbles tried to approach him, but Brittley wasn't a fan of cats, so he scooped him up and dropped him to the floor. “How was the wedding? Was it everything Wilomena hoped it would be?”

  “It was a beautiful wedding.”

  “I see. So what's the reason for your tears?”

  “Tears?” Emilia swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Christian.”

  “So you say. But it's obvious you've been crying, girl.” Brittley gently patted his leg. “Would you like to sit on my lap? I am sure I could significantly improve your mood.”