by Tia Siren
Isabella wished to scream but she remained calm and awaited her fate with grace. Mrs. Richardson was a woman in her late fifties. Of small stature, she looked as though she enjoyed cakes a little too much. Her long gray hair fell around her face quite charmingly. It gave her a motherly look and Isabella was sure she could trust her to select a charming dress for her.
Mrs. Richardson walked to a rack of gowns and pulled one out. It was deep red. When Isabella saw it, her trust in Mrs. Richardson began to wane. ''Let's try this one. You told me you wanted allure Miss Harriet. How about we go one step further. Passion. Deep red is a passionate color, it works wonders on a man's senses. She'll have them falling at her feet in this. Follow me, Miss Isabella.''
Isabella pulled an awkward face and reluctantly followed Mrs. Richardson into a fitting room. Once inside, Isabella was dismayed to see the walls covered in full length mirrors. Her sorrow was compounded by what seemed like a thousand candles lighting the room so fully, there was no shadow for her to hide in.
''Alright, Miss, please take off your clothes, all of them.''
''But I can't, I mean....... I don't want to.....I'm so.''
''Nonsense, Miss. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that you are the most beautiful young lady I have had the pleasure of fitting. Now, off with your clothes.''
Mrs. Richardson had changed from the nice motherly figure Isabella had thought her to be, into an ogre. Isabella didn't want to stand naked before her, but it seemed she had no choice. Slowly she peeled off layer upon layer of loose fitting clothing, until eventually she stood as naked as the moment she was born. She crossed her arms over her breasts and bent her pelvis back, hoping Mrs. Richardson didn't look at her most secret place.
''Really, Miss, I have no idea why you made such a fuss. Look at you, perfect. You have a great bust and such a tiny waist. I will be able to show you off as never before. Your bottom is delicate yet full and this gown will hug you and show you off perfectly. You seem to lack confidence, Miss Isabella, but you needn't. I have seen more naked women than I care to remember, probably well into the thousands, and you are in the top ten when it comes to figure shape. Now just stand there while I put this over your head.''
Harriet sat in the shop, watching people pass by the window. When Mrs. Richardson appeared, Harriet looked round eagerly. Isabella put her head around the door and looked to see if there was anybody else in the shop. When she saw there wasn't, she walked out of the fitting room and stood a couple of yards from Harriet.
''Oh, heavens. I'm going to cry,'' Harriet exclaimed. ''Mrs. Richardson, you are a genius. Isabella, you look stunning. Please do not wear those horrible baggy clothes ever again. In fact, Mrs. Richardson, please put the clothes she arrived here in today, into the dustbin. As well as this gown for the ball, we will take another two dresses for day wear.''
''But, Harriet, I can't possibly aff0rd...''
''Mrs. Richardson put all of them on my account please.''
''But, Harriet....''
''Do not argue. Now let me have a proper look at you.'' Harriet walked around Isabella and made her feel like a tailor's dummy. What Harriet saw was indeed a miraculous transformation. The gown was from satin and deep red. It was remarkably daring, and Harriet knew her brother's jaw would drop when he saw it. It had the shortest of sleeves, giving it the appearance of being sleeveless, and a décolleté that plunged into the deep valley between Isabella's breasts. Lower, the dress hugged her bottom, showing it to perfection, before blossoming into to a fuller shape. ''I really am going to weep,'' Harriet reaffirmed. ''It is more than stunning. When we get some jewelry on you, you will be a very dangerous woman indeed.''
Isabella smiled awkwardly. The dress made her feel strange. On the one hand feminine and seductive, on the other hand vulnerable.
****
''Harriet,'' the Duke shouted from his study, as he heard her giggling.
''Yes my Lord.'' Harriet went in to his study, stood next to his desk and stroked the dog that wandered up to her.
''Tell me, what has happened to Isabella?''
''What do you mean?''
''She looks different somehow. More like a young lady, less like an old aunt.''
''Ah,'' Harriet uttered. ''Isabella has been quite saddened recently by the fate of her father. I believe she fell into something of a depression and wore some less than flattering clothes for a period. It seems what you did for her father has improved her mood, no end. She obviously feels able to be her old self again. She does have the most amazing figure, doesn't she?'' Harriet smiled as she waited for her brother's answer.
''Yes, indeed she does. Quite a remarkable difference, I must say.''
Now Harriet was more convinced than ever her plan would work. Isabella much less so when she again saw the Duke with Miss Victoria. This time actually holding hands, not just walking arm in arm. Isabella prayed once again, that evening. This time she asked that her feelings would become more tolerable and that she'd be given the courage to wear the red gown with the dignity it commanded.
****
''Isabella, thank you for coming to help me. As you can see there are a number of options to choose from,'' the Duke said as Isabella looked down at the suits covering the sofa in his study.
''Indeed, there are a number of options, my Lord. Let me see, which one do you tend towards?''
''No idea,'' the Duke said unhelpfully.
''We must start somewhere. I will tell you what I like and you must decide if that can be your choice as well. Here, I like this tailcoat, it is dark and modest. It is becoming of a Duke. Colored tailcoats remind me of merchants. You are a Duke, you must wear classic clothes. Here, I like this waistcoat. Silver is a becoming color for a man with your hair color. Trousers, let me see. Here. These are long. I don't like men who wear pantaloons they look far too feminine. Long trousers will show off your height much better.” Isabella paused. “Let me see, what do we have now? Black tailcoat, silver waistcoat, black long length trousers. Perfect. Stylish, not garish. Add a white shirt and cravat and you will look good enough to eat.'' Isabella suddenly realized the horror of her last remark. ''My Lord, please, I didn't mean to be so vulgar.''
''Not at all. A very witty comment. Something I have never heard before. Now please turn your back while I get into these blessed clothes''
Isabella hadn't expected this. She was going to be in the same room as the Duke when he took off his clothes? She wasn't sure she could bear it. ''Yes, my Lord,'' she said obediently. She turned to face the wall as the Duke began to undress. Isabella was horrified to find that she could see him reflected in the crystal vase on top of the mantel piece. Should she close her eyes, or look? She chose to close her eyes, but after a few seconds, her curiosity took over. When she opened her eyes, she saw him totally naked except for a ridiculously tight fitting undergarment, which left nothing to the imagination. She saw his chest, broad and filled with taught muscles. His stomach looked hard and superbly flat. Isabella dare not look anymore and she closed her eyes. As she did so, she was surprised to see a lingering image of his bulge etched in her mind. As she heard the rustle of clothes behind her, she was acutely aware of her own body. For the first time in her life, she felt a deep desire to have a man inside her, and that man was the Duke.
''Finished,'' he said, much to Isabella's relief.
''Very handsome, my Lord,'' she said sincerely. ''That is exactly how you should dress to the ball. You will find a beautiful wife in no time.''
''Than you, Isabella. You have helped me no end. May I ask you something?''
''Yes, my Lord.''
''Do you think it too early for me to find another wife?''
''No, my Lord, I do not. In fact it is more than time. A man has needs. He cannot live alone all his life. It is five years since your wife died. Remember her with love and affection, but allow yourself to move on. Somewhere out there, a beautiful woman awaits you. A woman who will make you happy. You shouldn't deny yourself any longer.''
>
When Isabella had gone, the Duke sat down and thought about what she had said to him. What a perceptive young lady, he thought.
****
Isabella looked out of her bedroom window and saw a queue of coaches stretching down the driveway for as far as she could see. It seemed the whole of society had been invited. She turned back into the room and looked at Harriet. ''Thank you for helping me to dress,'' she said.
''You look magnificent. Isabella, before you go to the ball, you must tell yourself what you are. You are not a governess from a poor family. You are a beautiful independent woman who can have any man she wants. This evening you are going to go and get my brother. I know you love him. Go and make him love you.''
Isabella's legs were shaking at the thought of the task Harriet had given her. ''But your brother has been seeing Miss Victoria.''
''Heavens above, Isabella. Now I am going to be very angry with you. That woman isn't a patch on you. If you love the Duke, do him the courtesy of relieving him of that woman by putting yourself in her place. He needs you. You are perfect for him.''
Harriet's rousing speeches had Isabella's head in a spin. Could she really pull it off? Would the Duke fall in love with her? She really had her doubts. But she'd made her mind up, she was going to try. ''Very well, Harriet, I will try.''
''Thank you Lord'', Harriet said, looking up at the ceiling. ''You should wait until my brother is at the ball, before you come down the stairs. We don't want him seeing you, before you get to the ballroom. I will go and make sure he is in the ballroom. When he is, I will come back and get you.''
Harriet went and within twenty minutes she was back again. ''Let's go to the ball,'' she said enthusiastically. ''Don't forget your masque and remember to keep it on at all times, the Gentlemen won't be wearing a masque so you will be able to see my brother easily.
****
The Ballroom was an enormous hall in a separate wing of the castle. When Isabella arrived in the room she was overwhelmed by the number of people. There were ladies in gowns of every color and men in dashing suits. She stood in the giant arched doorway and looked around. The hall was an oblong shape. To the right there was a stage upon which there was a quintet of musicians. Below them in the center, she saw some people dancing in formation. She looked around to see if she knew anybody. Harriet had left her because she didn't want her brother to guess it was Isabella. Behind her masque and in such a beautiful gown the Duke would never guess it was Isabella, but if Harriet stood next to her, he may well have.
Isabella decided to walk around and see if she could see anyone to talk to. As she passed a group of young men, each of them turned their heads and watched her. It wasn't long before there was quite a buzz around the place. Nobody seemed to know the beautiful lady in the striking red gown. Isabella walked down the side of the dance floor and glanced around the hall from the other end.
''Good evening, Miss. I am Lord Falconbury. May I say how charming you look? It is seldom one sees a lady in such a striking gown. My compliments.''
''Thank you, sir. It is indeed a striking dress, you are correct. I did wonder whether I should wear it or not. Courage overcame me.''
''You look most beautiful. Would you dance with me?''
''If you would excuse me, I'd prefer to stand here a while longer before dancing, sir. Thank you.''
Half an hour passed, and Isabella was beginning to tire of the constant stream of gentlemen who came and asked her to dance. Where was the Duke? She couldn't see him anywhere.
Then, to her left she saw him - with Lady Victoria on his arm. I thought this was supposed to be a ball to find him a wife. If he's already chosen, why on earth he bothering? she thought.
When the Duke walked with Lady Victoria towards the dance floor, Isabella beckoned to Lord Falconbury and said, ''Please my Lord, dance with me now.'' Lord Falconbury was surprised she dare to ask a gentleman to dance but as she was so beautiful, he did not take offense.
It was a dance called The Eighth of August. Isabella was pleased because it would give her the opportunity to speak to the Duke as there were moments when partner changes were called for. She stood opposite Lord Falconbury as they bowed to each other. On her right stood Lady Victoria, and opposite her, the Duke. The dance began. As she stood in line she noticed the Duke looking at her. It didn't seem to be her masque that was attracting his attention, though.
When it was Isabella's turn she set off and met Lord Falconbury in the middle. They danced around each other and spun off to the next partner. Isabella crossed to the Duke. As she rounded him, she said, ''My Lord, that is a most beautiful waistcoat. Silver compliments your hair color so well.''
The Duke looked at her and smiled. ''I don't believe we have been introduced,'' he said, before he spun off to the next partner.
When their paths crossed again, he said,'' My children's governess helped me choose it.''
As quickly as she could before they had to part again, she said,'' Miss Isabella?''
The Duke raised an eyebrow. ''Do you know Isabella?'' He had to dance away again, but she had awoken his curiosity.
When he came back to her, she answered him. ''Yes, I know her, very well in fact. And prey my Lord, how do you find her?''
Again the Duke spun off and continued the dance around Lady Victoria. Before he could answer, the dance ended. The Duke walked to Isabella. ''She is a very agreeable young woman.''
''Agreeable?'' Isabella asked.
''My lady, I don't know who you are. As I don't know who you are, it is perhaps easier for me to speak of my torment. Miss Isabella is the most beautiful woman I know. I am in love with her. I am tortured daily that I will never be able to take her for my wife.''
Isabella was delighted and devastated at the same time. ''Why on earth could you never marry her?''
''I fear society would frown upon it. Miss Isabella is from a family that has fallen on hard times and her father is in prison. I am a Duke. I have to think of my reputation. In addition, Miss Isabella wears some very unbecoming clothes. If she dressed like you, perhaps I could find my way to ignoring society and marry her nonetheless.''
''My Lord, if I may say so, you are being foolish. You are in love with a beautiful woman. Would you let her go because of what society thinks of her? I can tell you what Miss Isabella thinks of you.''
''Yes, what does she think of me?'' he asked curiously.
Isabella didn't answer but walked away from him. She walked out of the hall and into the fresh air. She had just one hope: that the Duke would be so curious as to the answer, he would follow her.
The Duke didn't see Isabella leave the ballroom. She had woven her way between guests and he'd lost sight of her. He walked around frantically trying to find the lady in the red gown. After ten minutes Isabella had the blackest thoughts she had had since her mother had died. He hadn't followed her. He didn't really care to know what Isabella felt. Her dream was really over.
She took the path that circled the castle and began to walk the lonely route to a side door where she could slip inside unnoticed, and go to her room.
''Stop. Please stop.'' The Duke. Isabella didn't turn around. She listened to him trying to catch his breath.
''Dear Lady. Why did you run away from me?''
''I didn't run my Lord.''
''And?''
''And what, my Lord?''
''What does Isabella think of me?''
Isabella still with her back to him, turned around. She looked at him. She saw a desperation in his eyes. His hair was disheveled and there were beads of sweat on his forehead.
Slowly, she put her hand to her masque. She hesitated, but then drew in a long breath. She removed the masque.
The Duke gasped when he saw it was her.
''I want to tell you that Isabella loves you very much. More than is good for her. Her life is a daily chore of heartache and pain and will continue to be, unless you free her.''
He looked at her. A beautiful sensual woman, standing in fron
t of him, in a red gown. The same dress he had wanted to rip from her lithe body on the dance floor.
He cleared his throat. ''Will you please relay to Miss Isabella that I love her very much. It pains me to know that she suffers at my hand and I will indeed free her from her misery forthwith. Would you please tell Miss Isabella that I will come and see her in her chamber, as soon as I am able to free myself from the drudgery of Miss Victoria.''
''Yes. my Lord, I will ask Isabella to wait for you.''
****
Isabella had the longest, most nerve racking wait of her life. More than two hours passed. She sat in the same chair and stared at the door, the whole time. Her thoughts rolled between moments of thorough ecstasy and deep depression. He had declared his love for her just moments ago, but where was he? Why was he taking so long? Had he changed his mind?
Then, there was a knock at the door.
Isabella jumped up and threw it open. She watched as he stepped towards her. ''I am sorry I have been so long. That awful woman wouldn't take no for an answer.''
''Well, my Lord, I am pleased you are here now.''
''You will have to stop calling me, my Lord.” The Duke placed his hands on Isabella’s shoulders. “Isabella, I love you and I have loved you from the minute I saw you.''
''Then why didn't you come to me? You could have saved us so much misery.''
''I was torn between two worlds. I was worried what society would think. Now I realize that was a big mistake.''
He reached for her and pulled her to him. He bent to her and kissed her passionately. Isabella almost fainted. It was what she had wanted for so long. In one movement he had taken her to another happier place.
As they kissed she could feel his desire pushing against her. His hands reached behind her and started to unfasten the buttons of her gown. One by one he snapped them open. Isabella wanted him and now she wasn't going to be shy anymore. He gasped as she felt for his bulge and found it. She felt him and found his balls, then the line of his shaft. She felt him shiver when she traced the full length of him and let her finger rest at his tip.