DisobediencebyDesign

by Regina Kammer

  She turned to Sophia. “You must write me. Send your letters to Arthur until your father has swallowed his pride.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Mother kissed Helena on the tip of her nose. “And now I must take my leave.” Her soft goodbye trembled with emotion as she handed Helena back to Sophia. She squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Don’t mention this to your father.” She turned and walked away.

  Sophia hugged Helena, nuzzling her cheek to cheek. “Arthur, I’ve hurt her terribly.”

  He put his arm around her. “You’ll make up for it. You already have really. She sees how happy you are.” He poked Helena in the stomach and she flailed her tiny arms with a squeal. “Time heals all wounds. You’ll see.”

  He could only hope such a sentiment was true.

  * * * * *

  New York City, 7 May 1861

  Sophia burrowed deeper against Joseph’s chest as she cradled Helena in her arms on their bed. “My Helena, my beautiful Helena, the most beautiful girl in the world,” she purred, kissing her tiny forehead.

  Joseph chuckled. “Every mother says that, don’t they?”

  She smiled. “Yes but in my case it’s true.”

  He leaned over and kissed Helena’s chubby cheek. “Yes it is. My Helena is indeed the most beautiful baby in the world because her mother is the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Oh stop.” Sophia pushed him aside. “You’ll crush her.”

  Joseph kissed her hair. “I’d like to be crushing you,” he murmured. “Perhaps give Helena a brother.” He gently stroked her unbound breast through her dressing gown.

  She shot him a scowl. “Darling—”

  But her protest was stopped by his mouth, ravenous from inattention. His tongue plunged inside her slowly, rhythmically, tempting her. She gave in only briefly then pulled back.

  “I think you should visit a courtesan,” she said blithely.

  He chuckled. “I can’t imagine anyone sucking my prick the way you do, my sweet.”

  “We should not be doing this in front of the baby,” she scolded, unable to stop a smile from spreading on her lips.

  “She won’t know.”

  “Joseph! Surely you’re joking?”

  He laughed softly. “Yes but only partly.” He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “I miss you. I miss us.” He pecked her lips then settled back against the headboard, pulling her and Helena alongside. He sighed. “Sophie,” he said quietly, caressing her back. “I’m scared.”

  “Scared?” She looked up at him. “Darling, why?”

  “It’s always been just me. I don’t need much. I always got by. My parents counseled to never rely on anyone but myself. And yet here I am, relying on the good graces of your brother and the money of a dozen men I barely know, and I have a wife and child to protect and care for. Just over a year ago I was a rash youth with some drawings and an idea.”

  Sophia sighed. “And I’ve never known such independence as you have. So I feel a bit of the opposite. New York is simply filled with possibilities. And it’s exciting to be the wife of a very important businessman.”

  Joseph gave her a little squeeze.

  She slid her hand inside his unbuttoned shirt. “When you were young if you got sick and couldn’t work, your mother took care of you, right? And your father allowed you to sit at his table, even if you couldn’t pay him rent that week?”

  “Of course. My parents would do what they could.”

  “Because that’s what family does… Well that is what they are supposed to do anyway.” Papa had yet to contact her after the birth of his only grandchild. “Arthur is your brother now and Helena is his niece. We are a family. We rely on each other.”

  “Yes of course, love.” His voice strained with emotion.

  “I’m frightened too. Frightened Papa will never forgive me for what I’ve done.”

  “If what you say about family is true, he will come around. He’ll see what you did as benefiting the Harwell name.”

  Tears spiked her lashes. “I hope so,” she murmured.

  A quiet knock on the door roused them.

  “Yes?” Sophia called.

  Anna poked her head inside the room. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

  “No no, Mrs. Peel, come in.” She loved to call Anna by her married name, especially now she was with child.

  She stood before them and held out her hands.”It’s time for Helena’s bath, Mrs. Phillips.” Anna always reciprocated the honorific.

  Joseph took Helena from Sophia and deftly laid her in Anna’s arms. “And then bed?”

  “Yes, Mr. Phillips. I’ll put her to bed.” She cradled Helena as if she were her own, cooing and kissing her as she left for the bath.

  Sophia smiled. Anna was going to be a wonderful mother. “I wonder if Geoffrey will be as randy as you after Anna has her baby?”

  Joseph guffawed. “Oh probably.”

  “We should invite him to our bed in those first few weeks,” she teased.

  “You forget, madam, that they will have returned to England by then,” he deflected.

  “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

  He pulled her dressing gown open to reveal a breast, cupping and weighing its new fullness. “I’m not quite ready to share you again. Perhaps when our daughter is married.”

  “Or you leave me alone when you go out west.”

  A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Sophie…”

  “Darling, I’m not naive. You’ve said you’ve had lovers in St. Louis, in San Francisco. I don’t expect you to be a monk when we’re apart.”

  “I can try,” he said with a whimper.

  She laughed. “Like you tried to stay away from me? It didn’t take long for you to ravish me at Harwell Hall.”

  “Your eagerness was far too seductive.” He bent over her and took a nipple in his mouth, twisting his tongue over the tender peak.

  She melted under the wet warmth. “A man of your lustful nature needs his outlets.”

  “And a woman of your lascivious temperament? I expect you to do the same.” He sucked harder, swirling her into a state of sultry relaxation.

  “Although with the baby I’ll not have the time or the inclination.”

  Joseph lifted his head. “Unless of course it was Geoff.”

  “Of course,” she said with a smirk and a lift of a brow.

  He thinned his lips. “And how often is it that when I make love to you, Mrs. Phillips, you’re thinking about Geoffrey Peel?” His rebuke held a devious edge, a tone he used when he wanted to play.

  Sophia’s skin prickled in anticipation. “Does it really matter whom I fantasize about when I’m in your arms?”

  “You are very impertinent, madam. Perhaps you need a lesson in obedience to your husband.”

  With the strength of a stevedore and the nimbleness of a dancer he scooped her up in his thick arms and turned her over his lap. The bend at her hips cupped his massive thigh, the heat of his crotch like fire beneath her breasts. Above her his breathing grew labored as he slowly lifted the hem of her dressing gown, his fingers tickling the backs of her legs.

  Her quim, already moist from his earlier attention to her breast, grew heavy with lust. It had been too long since the last time. She hoped he would be harsh.

  He pulled the fabric to her waist, exposing her bottom to the air. She turned her head to see his gaze fall to the sight before him. He licked his lips audibly as his palm curved over the flesh of her buttocks.

  “I seem to recall we made vows to one another.” His touch was featherlight.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He lifted his hand. “Do you remember what we said?”

  “No, sir.”

  His hand came down hard. Sophia flinched before sighing in relief, her skin tingling, wanting more.

  “Let me remind you, then.”

  “Please, sir.”

  “Matrimony was ordained as a remedy against the sin of fornication.”

  Smack.r />
  “A wife promises to obey her husband.”

  Thwack. The burn smoldered deliciously.

  “To serve him.”

  Whack, whack. He opened her legs a little wider, peeling apart the lips of her sticky and swollen sex.

  “To love and honor him.”

  He struck at the base of her buttocks, the blow reverberating up her flexing cunt.

  “To forsake all others.”

  Swat. Her breasts slid over his aroused cock straining against his trousers.

  “And keep thee only unto him.”

  Slap. The hardest yet. Her buttocks would be pink by now.

  He stroked her sore flesh with a light touch, drawing circles with his fingers, trailing spirals down the backs of her leg, to the softness between her thighs.

  “But I too took such vows.”

  He inserted a finger in her wet passage, then two, languidly pushing in and pulling out.

  “To love you.”

  She clenched around him with a gasp, surprised at the depths of her need.

  “To honor you.”

  He withdrew his hand and grasped her by the hips. In one movement he lifted her off and positioned himself behind her.

  “To comfort you.”

  He smoothed his palm against her buttocks then eased her legs farther apart to briefly tease her clit.

  “To forsake all others.”

  The bed bounced gently. She turned her head and watched as he slid off his suspenders and pulled off his shirt then tugged at his fly. He held her gaze as he popped the buttons one by one with deliberate slowness.

  “To keep you all to myself.”

  His cock bobbed free of his clothes. He grabbed it and positioned himself at her entrance.

  “With my body I thee worship.”

  He slammed inside her, the force shoving her into the mattress, each thrust more savage than the last. She dipped her back to take him deeper, his sharp exhale the proof of his approbation. He repositioned, rising above her to drive into her with rough determination, his hips slapping her tender buttocks, his stones swinging into her clit. He had never been so savage, so rough, so deep, so utterly a part of her.

  He snaked his hand around to slap her clit before he pressed the tender nub with a strong finger. She came with abandon, screaming into the mattress, her cunt squeezing him until he let loose his seed. He growled his satisfaction and gripped her hips cruelly, steadying her as he jerked every drop inside.

  He bent over her, panting in her ear, his heart pounding into her back. She pushed him off to lie on the mattress, her legs and butt sore from his passion.

  He stretched beside her and drew her to him, encircling her in his strong arms. As she nuzzled against him, the fine hairs of his chest tickled her cheek.

  “Joseph,” she said, spreading her fingers on his rippled torso. “It won’t be like that with the others, will it?”

  “No, love, it won’t.” He kissed her hair. “That is what makes what we have so special. Something so much more than a momentary pleasure.”

  The warmth of love coiled inside her. “As long as we both shall live.”

  Epilogue

  London, 10 September 1879

  Sophia stared at Helena poised in the lobby of St. George’s church, Anna perfecting the position of her veil, while Anna’s daughters, Molly and Lilly, stood at the ready to adjust her train and hand her the bouquet. Helena really was the most beautiful girl in the world, especially on this, her wedding day. Her dress was exquisite. The bodice, silk damask of the palest rose, was flawlessly fitted to her lovely figure. Three-quarter-length bell sleeves were trimmed in a froth of ivory French lace, while the ruched ivory satin underskirt was trimmed with gold fringe, the damask train trimmed in more lace and fringe. Sophia sighed, wishing she could have worn so elegant a dress when she was married. Helena looked every bit the perfect bride.

  Joseph had spared no expense for the wedding and as a wealthy industrialist he was expected to provide a lavish affair. Both he and Sophia were determined to give their daughter the spectacle they never had, a ceremony and breakfast befitting the marriage of the granddaughter of a marquess to a handsome and honorable earl.

  Tears wet her lashes. Everything had turned out fine as Joseph had said it would so many years ago. Including the much-longed-for reconciliation with Mama and Papa.

  Over the course of eighteen years Mama had written when she could. Papa, though, had barely said a word. They had spent time with Helena—Sophia made sure of it—and Mama always gushed about how pretty she was, how intelligent. It was painfully obvious Papa wanted to get to know Helena better but pride kept him at bay.

  And then Nicholas, the Earl of St. Albans, asked for Helena’s hand in marriage. The title was old, older than the Marquessate of Richmond and the new earl promised to reinvigorate his estate and duties to crown and country. Papa suddenly had a change of heart.

  “Sophie?”

  Sophia turned to the sound of Mama’s voice behind her. The moment their eyes met Sophia’s stomach knotted with the pain of regret. She held out her hands and when Mama came forward regret melted into joy.

  They hugged. “I’m here to give my granddaughter a good-luck kiss. We’ve only just gotten to know her and now she’s being taken away.”

  Sophia took her arm to stroll to Helena. “Oh Mama. I’m sure she’ll want you to visit her at St. Albans.”

  “Grandmama!” Helena’s face brightened the moment she saw her grandmother.

  Mama took her hands, not daring to muss the tulle veil. “You’ve become such a beautiful woman. I remember the day I held you in my arms when you were just a few weeks old. You were stunning even then.”

  “Oh Grandmama! You’ll spoil me with such flattery.”

  “I’m sure the earl will spoil you every day. Your Nicholas appears to be a wonderful young man. I hope he will make you happy, dear.” She held out a hand to Sophia. “Like your father made your mother happy.”

  “Thank you, Grandmama.”

  “Now, my dear, I need to have a few words with your mother. But before I do I have something for you. A present.” She reached into her purse and drew out a bracelet made of two curved bands of gold, a medallion etched with leaves and flowers holding the bands together at one end. “Something new. The design matches your earrings.” She slid the medallion to widen the bands then placed the bracelet on Helena’s wrist and tightened it closed.

  Helena studied the bracelet with a smile of admiration. “It’s lovely.”

  Mama once again took Helena’s hands. “As are you. I’ll see you at the breakfast.” She gave Helena’s hands a squeeze.

  Sophia blinked back tears. She had never had a moment like that on her own wedding day. Her heartache was short-lived when Mama grabbed her arm and motioned toward a private corner.

  “Sophia,” she began soberly. “My dear, I’ve just had word and I wanted to let you know before any of your guests brought up the horrible subject. It’s finally made the morning papers so someone is bound to have read it already.”

  “Read what, Mama?”

  Mama looked her in the eye. “Royston is dead.”

  Sophia gasped. She had never wanted to hear that name again. The knot in her stomach tightened.

  “Rumor has it a former servant killed him. A young girl. No one is speaking up and the staff he once had is scattered to the winds. There were no signs of violence, no blood. The official report says he died in his sleep, reeking of alcohol. Trouble is, Giles was never much of a drinker.” She snorted a laugh. “He came to a pathetic end, living with only a man-of-all-work and a cook, and burning furniture for fuel.”

  Dead. She should feel glad. She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  “Your father received private word as he was still paying the duke’s bills. He’s not been the same since. He wrote to Arthur directly to make amends. He’s been talking about the wedding like a giddy boy. And we’ll be having a hunting ball once again. October. I expect to se
e you and your husband there.”

  Sophia smiled. “In a month? Well then perhaps I should alert you to my news.”

  “Oh?” Mama’s brow crinkled in concern.

  “Mama, I think I’m pregnant—”

  Mama clapped her hand to her mouth.

  “Well I’m pretty sure of it but it is too soon for an announcement. I’ve not even told Joseph yet.” Sophia grinned at the excitement contorting Mama’s expression. “And you are not to tell anyone on Helena’s special day.”

  “I won’t, I promise I won’t.” Mama pursed her lips in a vain attempt to quash a smile. “Oh my dear! After all these years! Another grandchild!” Mama threw her arms around Sophia.

  The joy of Mama’s touch warmed her. They should have hugged long ago. A mother’s love was a precious gift. But she had to let go. “Mama, the wedding is about to start, you must find your seat.”

  Sophia sighed. Helena’s special day was becoming the happiest day of her life.

  * * * * *

  “Oh Nicky! So very handsome! Now, darling, I know you don’t want to hear any of this—”

  Joseph paused outside the door to the vestry at the sound of Lady Foxley-Graham’s voice. It was rather rude to be listening in on private counsel between intimates but something compelled him to want to hear Lavinia’s advice.

  Probably because there had been no such counselor on his own wedding day.

  “Whenever you quarrel or if Helena does something against your wishes or when she’s simply in a bad mood because women often find themselves in a funk, you must remember this day, this moment and how you feel about her.”

  “Vinny—” Nicholas’ voice held a note of abashment.

  “At those times you must take a deep breath and remember she is the love of your life. And you are hers.”

  “Yes, Vinny.”

  Joseph grinned. Poor Nicholas was probably blushing beet red. It was time to save the lad.

  He entered the vestry. As he had thought, Nicholas was looking askance as Lavinia brushed off imaginary specks from his jacket, his face a little flushed.

  “It’s all true, son,” he said, winking at Lavinia.

  “Mr. Phillips.” Nicholas nodded.