Four under the Mistletoe: A MFMM Menage Romance (Christmas Billionaire Menage Series Book 2)

by Tia Siren

  When the missive came, Father peered at it through a haze of pipe-smoke and scrunched up his face. “What’s this, then?” he said. “The Duke of Summerset wants you, Elizabeth, to attend a party at his Castle? Well, I wonder what tricks he’s playing! I’ve heard lots about him; I have! Lots! I’ve heard that he drinks human blood. Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s true! He’s a beast on the battlefield, and he drinks human blood! When he returned from France, the first thing he did was order a chalice of blood!”

  “Father…”

  “No!” He lurched when he shouted, spilling wine down his shirt, which was already sodden with sweat. “You cannot go!”

  “Dear, she can hardly refuse,” Mother murmured over her knitting. “Think how it would look. A Duke invites you to a party; you do not refuse. You accept, despite your misgivings.”

  Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile but quickly hid it with her hand. She made her face impassive again and then looked to Father, waiting for him to speak. She knew there was no use in pushing the matter. She simply had to wait. After a few minutes, Father let the letter drop to the floor and sucked on his pipe. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can go.”

  Elizabeth did not show her joy. Inside she was jumping and cheering and screaming in excitement, but outside she was impassive and still as stone. Living around Father, one learnt to hide one’s emotions. Father was not overly fond of displays of inner feelings, and Elizabeth had learnt to make herself calm in almost every circumstances, even if she was only calm on the outside. Plus, the turmoil of the past years had dulled her emotions until it was difficult to feel anything not tinged with depression.

  But a party, a real party… that was something to look forward to.

  “Thank you, Father,” she said quietly.

  “You will need a dress,” Mother muttered.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “You can have my good gown, the one I have saved.”

  Elizabeth knew all about this gown. It was beautiful and elegant, with gold trimming and forest-green silk. Father had sold all of their gowns, but Mother had not allowed him to sell this one. He had fought her, but she had persevered and managed to succeed in saving it.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Elizabeth said.

  *****

  The chandelier caught the summer light as it beamed through the high-set windows of Summerset Castle’s ball room. Elizabeth accepted a glass of wine from a server and walked to the edge of the room, where she could sit quietly and privately. The room was packed full of beautiful and noble people all laughing and joking with each other. There were only a few people not attached to a group. Elizabeth knew she had to wait to be approached by somebody, that it would be presumptuous and rude to merely attach herself to a group, but she was beginning to feel like a woman on an island sitting on this chair.

  Across the ballroom was Charlotte Festrew, a girl who had once been a friend of Elizabeth’s. Father had lost money to her father and had refused to pay until violence was threatened. Afterwards, Charlotte had sent Elizabeth a short note severing all ties between them. Elizabeth knew it was foolish to hope that Charlotte had miraculously changed her mind, but she decided to try and approach her anyway.

  Elizabeth’s legs were shaky, and her heart was like a war-drum, pounding, pounding. Charlotte was talking to a tall man with an elaborate beard, the mustache flicking upwards. She laughed at something he said and then turned to Elizabeth, the smile on her lips right up until the moment they met eyes. “You,” she said, her mouth hanging open for a moment.

  “Who is your friend?” the man said.

  “Elizabeth Hawk,” Charlotte said, with a worried look.

  “Hawk? Daughter of Francis Hawk? The philanderer!”

  “I do not believe he is a philanderer, sir, just a gambler.”

  “Ha! This birdy has a sharp beak indeed!”

  “Her family is in complete ruin,” Charlotte said, as though Elizabeth were not standing there. “Her father has completely trampled their finances. I’ve even heard rumors that her mother has taken to a situation in an estate, cleaning and helping with the children.”

  “That is not true,” Elizabeth said, aghast.

  Charlotte went on, oblivious of Elizabeth. “I’ve even heard whispers that the Father has taken to roaming the highways, pistol in hand, in the hopes of robbing some poor lord or lady.”

  “Liar!” Elizabeth whispered fiercely, not wishing to disturb the party.

  Charlotte turned to Elizabeth with a sad smile. “How are you even here, Elizabeth? Did you sneak in?”

  Elizabeth was appalled. What had she done to provoke such slander? She had never been anything but kind to Charlotte. Only two years ago they had walked together in her family’s woods, laughing and joking all the way, telling each other what great friends they were. And now here she was, being viciously abused. She didn’t know what to say. No words would form. She only stood there, mouth hanging open, tears stinging her eyes. No, she told herself. No, no, no. She made herself cold and forced the tears away.

  She is playing a dangerous game, the cold part of Elizabeth thought. Does she not recall what she told me, when we walked through the woods, about a certain night in the stables with the gardener?

  Charlotte and the man were laughing. Elizabeth forced herself to smile and then said, as pleasantly as she could: “Charlotte, you must tell me who does your gardens. If I recall correctly, they are absolutely beautiful.”

  Charlotte’s face dropped. She choked back a laugh. “I—I’m sure I don’t—know what you—”

  Elizabeth didn’t wait for her to stop stuttering. She walked straight to the door and into the gardens, where a few people strolled. She was able to find a bench and seated herself gratefully. A fine film of sweat had built upon her upper lip. She touched it with her fingertips and then looked upon the garden.

  “That was quite the show,” a voice said behind her.

  Elizabeth turned and the Duke of Summerset, Harold Stonewall, stepped forward.

  *****

  The Duke of Summerset was a well-built man, with a muscular body, strong shoulders, thick arms, and muscular legs. He wore a military jacket and soldier’s britches, adorned with a dozen or so medals. His face was clean-shaven, and his black hair was cropped close to his head. His jaw was square and strong. His eyes were blue tinged with purple. “I have frightened you,” he said. His voice was cold and calm, untouched by even the slightest emotion.

  “Not—not at all,” Elizabeth said, as she overcame the initial shock. “I merely came out here for some fresh air. I did not expect to see the Duke.”

  “Well, here I am.” He walked around to the bench and stood over her. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happened in there? Lady Barnes seemed quite angry with you.”

  “Our fathers do not agree on many things.”

  “I have heard,” the Duke said. “I have also heard that Lady Barnes can be sword-sharp with her tongue. You must tell me, how did you rebuff her?”

  “I’m sure you have more impressive tales,” Elizabeth said. “War, France, the King.”

  He waved his hand. “They are not nearly as impressive as a riposte as expertly executed as yours.”

  “It is rather a scandal,” Elizabeth said, whispering conspiratorially. “If I were to tell you, I would need your word that you would not spread the rumor.”

  “You have my word, upon the King,” the Duke said seriously.

  “Charlotte, two years ago, had a night in the stables with her family’s gardener.”

  “A night in the stables, you say? You mean they fucked?”

  Elizabeth blushed to her ears. She looked down at her hands, into the bushes, anywhere but into his eyes. When she glanced back, she saw that the Duke was staring steadily at her, his eyes burning into her. She quickly looked away. “That is—err, I believe what happened.”

  The Duke nodded, and then jumped to his feet. He offered his arm. “Take a st
roll with me, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth accepted his arm and together they began to walk around the gardens. She was aware of the jealous eyes that peeped from behind every bush, but she didn’t care about that. All her thoughts were seized by the Duke’s presence beside hers, by his arm on hers, by the hard muscle that Elizabeth could feel through the fabric of the Duke’s jacket. He led them far to the back of the garden, where none of the other party were, and they sat on a bench.

  “It is nice here,” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s private,” the Duke said.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It is a great thing,” the Duke said. “I do not want to share you with the rest of the party.”

  Elizabeth did not know what to say to this. She looked around the gardens, watching a butterfly chart its course from flower to flower, watching a caterpillar crawl over and around a leaf.

  “Tell me, Elizabeth, what do you crave most in the world?”

  Elizabeth was taken aback by this question and was not sure how to respond. What did she value most in the world? Was it riches? No. Was it love? Perhaps. Was it knowledge? Maybe. “I do not know,” Elizabeth said. “What do you, if I may, covet most?”

  The Duke shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “I merely follow the King, and do as the King orders me.”

  “That is a noble pursuit.”

  The Duke shrugged again. “Tell me, Elizabeth, have you ever been kissed?”

  Elizabeth was twenty years old, she had been an adult now for a long time, but she had never been kissed. She had thought impure thoughts before, and had felt horribly guilty afterwards, but in real life, she had never so much as been held by a man. “I have not,” she whispered.

  She almost flinched when the Duke’s hand touched her face. He brushed her chin with his fingertips and then turned her face toward him, so they were looking into each other’s eyes. His face was calm and composed. Elizabeth made her face calm and composed, though within she was more scared and excited and alive than she had ever been. The Duke moved his hand down from her chin to her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

  The kiss was full of passion. Feelings Elizabeth had not even known she possessed woke within her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the Duke. He placed both his hands on her face and moved his tongue into her mouth. She allowed him, and then moved her tongue around with his, their tongues dancing. Her hands were on his shoulders, and then she pulled away, breathing heavily.

  “I can’t,” she said. “We are not married. We are not even engaged.”

  The Duke smiled. “The world is still so simple for you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “I want you to stay at the Castle for a week or so, after the other guests have gone. I will write to your mother and father. It will be impossible for them to refuse.”

  “What ever for?” Elizabeth said.

  “So I can court you, of course, my lady.”

  Elizabeth felt herself blush a fierce red. A Duke had just told her he wanted to court her. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She only looked at him, straight in the eyes, to see if she could discover his intent. Why would a Duke want to court a poor girl from a minor family? Why would a Duke bother with her at all? Because you’re nothing like those backstabbing, two-faced, sadistic harlots in there, perhaps!

  The Duke once again offered his arm. And Elizabeth once again accepted. The Duke leaned in and kissed Elizabeth on the neck. Her skin pricked with warmth, and a tingly pleasure permeated her body.

  When they returned to the party, the Duke left immediately to write the letter to Mother and Father, which he would send by messenger this very day. Elizabeth could imagine her father’s fury at reading the letter, but the Duke was correct. He could not openly refuse without causing a scandal, and Father had had too many candles as it was.

  No, as far as Father was concerned, she was safe. But was she safe from the Duke? What, exactly, did he want from her? Thoughts whirred through her head, impure, un-ladylike thoughts, and feelings warred in her chest, lustful and frightening feelings.

  That night, as she laid her head down upon the guest bed, she dreamt of the Duke.

  *****

  Elizabeth woke the next morning to a knock at her door. She put on the robe the Duke’s servants had laid out in the room and went to the door. Opening it, she saw a young girl with a freckled face. “The Duke wants to know if you want to breakfast with him, misses.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Elizabeth said, sounding much calmer than she felt. “I will be there presently.”

  She quickly dressed in a day dress and fixed her hair, so it fell loosely to her shoulders. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. Her skin was so white it was almost ghostly. Her eyes were dark blue, almost black. She was thin, with a thin waist and thin neck. Her cheekbones were set high in her face, and there was something behind her eyes: a hint of mischief, of dormant playfulness.

  When she entered the breakfast room, the Duke stood from his chair and waved Elizabeth in. The table was laden with pastries and cakes. The Duke pulled out Elizabeth’s chair for her and then seated himself opposite her. He smiled. “Did you sleep well, my lady?” he said.

  “Very well, thank you,” Elizabeth lied. In truth, she had woken twice during the night, each time hot and flustered after a dream about the Duke, each time wanting to touch herself in a most inappropriate way. She had wanted to reach down, and just once, just touch—No, that is wrong, Elizabeth. Wrong!

  “Good,” the Duke said, in his calm, emotionless voice. “We will walk the grounds after we have breakfasted.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and they ate in silence. Afterwards, the Duke gave Elizabeth his arm, and together they walked around the Castle, under ornate arches and through wide open courtyards, and then toward the wood with their thick, healthy green leaves. “I am not built for the ball life,” the Duke said, after a long silence. “I was glad to find you at the party yesterday, because it seemed you were not built for the ball life, either. There is so much pretending that goes along with a life like that. One must always be on one’s guard, lest one ‘let something slip’ and cause a scandal. They stand around drinking wine and laughing, and they have no idea what is happening just right across the Channel.”

  “It must be hard, fighting in a war,” Elizabeth said.

  “I used to think so,” the Duke said. “And then the fighting stopped, and I returned to my Castle, and I was forced to mingle with lords and ladies for whom a crisis constitutes having to eat apple cakes instead of lemon cakes.”

  Elizabeth laughed, and then swiftly covered her mouth.

  “You may laugh, if you wish,” the Duke said. There was almost a hint of warmth in his voice, but not quite. It was more like there was the potential for warmth in his voice.

  Elizabeth was so used to the cramped, suffocating atmosphere of her home life that the idea that she could actually laugh aloud was strange to her. She imagined the scenario at home: Father somberly drinking and smoking before the fire, Mother knitting, the only noise coming from her the click-click-click of the needles, and then Elizabeth reads something that makes her laugh, and she laughs aloud for the two of them to hear. No doubt Father would start raving about how his daughter finds their misfortune funny, and Mother would simply retire to her bedroom.

  “Laughter does not come easily to me,” she said.

  “Okay,” the Duke said. “What does come easily to you, my lady?”

  Elizabeth tried to think of something, but nothing was magnificent: nothing was worthy of a scene like this. But then, she decided, did she want to be the sort of woman who pretends her life is grand and adventurous when in fact it was rather dull? Did she want to be a Charlotte-type woman? “I care for the pigs and chickens,” she said. “And I read a lot. Father did not sell our books, so I still have many to choose from. There are some Greek scripts, and I have taught myself the basics
. Enough to get along with some simpler texts, anyway. I love to read. I forget everything when I read. I do not feel as though I’m even in the same world when I read. The pages eat me.”

  The Duke nodded. “And lots of adventures happen in these books, do they?”

  “Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said. “Adventures of all sorts.”

  “What about solders-cum-dukes wooing beautiful ladies?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I have not read that tale yet, my lord.”

  The Duke placed his hand on Elizabeth’s leg. Elizabeth felt the heat from his hand move up her thigh, up, toward her private area. She knew she should bat his hand away, or tell him to move it away from her. She was not that kind of woman. But he was not trying anything else, and his hand really did feel quite nice there. They sat like that for a time, and then Elizabeth laid her hand over the Duke’s. He squeezed her leg, and together watched the course of a bird as it ducked from the clouds, into the trees, and then back up into the clouds again.

  “Will you dine with me tonight, my lady?” the Duke said.

  “Yes, of course,” Elizabeth replied. “It would be my pleasure.”

  The Duke stood and together they walked back through the gardens. Elizabeth did not know how to feel about all of this. One side of her was ecstatic and overly happy that she was here, in the Duke’s gardens, with this captivating man. Another half of her was wary. She had never dreamt, when she was among the pigs and chickens, that she would be in the Duke’s Castle alone.

  Anything could happen here, she thought, with a mixture of excitement and fear. Anything at all.

  *****

  That evening Elizabeth donned one of the dresses the Duke had lent her – that he had left waiting for her in the dresser – and joined him in the dining room for a dinner of duck and potato. They ate in silence for a time, and then the Duke ordered wine and drank greedily. Elizabeth, who had never had lots of wine, decided to indulge for the first time tonight. She drank down a large glass and then another, and soon the room had become unfocused. The Duke laughed. “I believe you are drunk,” he said.