Two Notorious Dukes

by Norton, Lyndsey

  ‘Not really. He tried to take me again, but I gave him my knee in the groin. That’s why he hit me, but I can take a punch on the nose and the fire iron was a handy weapon, so I hit him with that.’ Robert sniggered. ‘I was lucky that Sarah arrived just then, I think he would have become really violent otherwise.’

  ‘What did Johnny do?’

  ‘I didn’t see it, because I was unconscious in the library, but according to Rogers, John grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the seat of his britches and threw him down the front steps!’ Robert laughed delightedly. ‘And when Rogers threw out his hat and cane, a horse kicked his hat into the middle of the Square!’

  Suddenly she had sat up and they had made love again. He lay and watched the woman that was going to be his wife in wonder as she slowly lifted and sank back down on his member and moaned softly. He’d never really taken any notice of a woman’s face before. Usually if they were on top, they were experienced whores and all he watched were their tits! But he watched Elizabeth’s eyes and the expressions on her face, the way her lips would part as she gasped and her hair tumbled about her body like a dark cloak, and especially the frown of concentration as she got close to climax. He was astonished at the rapt expression on her face as she shuddered and she gasped as he heaved his sperm into her as he ejaculated copiously again. Even after her orgasm was finished, she continued to writhe on him, so he rolled her on her back and was a bit more forceful with her, taking her with long harsh strokes until they both cried out. He pulled her into his arms and encouraged her to sleep. But he couldn’t, so he lay and listened to her instead and debated his next move.

  Chapter 13 ‘Til Death Us Do Part

  ‘Good God!’ spluttered from Lord Liverpool’s throat as he saw Robert. ‘Bosworth’s back!’

  ‘My Lord.’ Robert said calmly, he knew today would be difficult as the gossip about Abigail Beresford would be rife. He nonchalantly pulled off his glove and adjusted the cuff of his fine lawn shirt. ‘I arrived in London last evening.’

  ‘I’m glad you can take your place today.’ The Prime Minister said and sauntered away across the foyer towards the Commons.

  Robert saw Randolph, the Earl of Gwent, heading towards him. ‘Your Grace.’ Randolph said courteously as he arrived. ‘I just wondered what you were going to do about Beresford.’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything about Beresford.’ Robert said coldly. ‘It’ll be up to him, when he gets back from India.’

  ‘Do you think she’s pregnant?’ he asked soulfully.

  ‘I’d be surprised if she isn’t, but who is the father is a harder question to answer.’ Robert said still coldly. ‘You weren’t the only one tupping her,’ he sighed deeply ‘and neither was I.’

  ‘Is that Craanford creeping into the chamber?’ Randolph said without any knowledge of how dangerous it could be for poor Craanford.

  Robert looked up sharply and said ‘excuse me.’ As he brushed past Randolph. Argyll saw him move and shook his head. Following with alacrity he arrived just in time to witness the event of the century.

  Robert grabbed Craanford by the shoulder and spun him around with such force that Craanford squealed like a girl. But his cry was short lived as Robert’s left fist took him on the nose with an explosion of blood. Robert didn’t let go of the delicate silk of Craanford’s jacket and the shoulder seam ripped as he fell to the floor. Robert stood over him like an avenging angel and Craanford nearly filled his britches.

  A hush fell over the house and every body clearly heard Robert say ‘Consider that an introduction. I am the Duke of Roding. Stay away from Lady Elizabeth. She is no longer your concern and is under the protection of my house. She has agreed to be my wife and has already told you no six times. If you bother her again, I’ll meet you in Hyde Park with pistols!’ and he flung the torn section of silk in Craanford’s face.

  Craanford scrambled to his feet, the blood pouring down his face. He nodded frantically and scampered out of the chamber, but his expression was black.

  ‘Bosworth should be careful,’ murmured the Lord Chancellor. ‘That kind of display won’t do him any good. He must know the King’s orders on duelling.’

  ‘I believe he does, My Lord.’ His private secretary said quietly. ‘But I would probably do the same thing in his position. Word is spreading that Craanford likes to beat up women.’

  ‘Really?’ the chancellor asked with raised eyebrows. ‘And where does this information come from?’

  ‘From the Palace, my Lord.’

  Argyll patted Robert on the shoulder. ‘Is that what you came for?’ he said with a snigger.

  ‘No. But it’s a start.’ Robert rubbed his knuckles in the palm of his other hand.

  ‘Will you duel?’ Argyll asked knowing full well that he would.

  ‘Of course! Wouldn’t you?’

  Argyll smiled and nodded. ‘I would.’ He admitted and turned Robert for the benches.

  As Robert sat down the Earl of Rathbone looked around and smiled at him. ‘Nicely done.’ He murmured. ‘Hope you’re as quick when Beresford comes for you.’

  ‘That will all depend on the colour of its hair.’ Robert said and Rathbone guffawed loudly. ‘It might even be red.’ That caused Rathbone to splutter into silence, and turn a liverish eye on him.

  ‘Don’t joke about such things.’ He said in horror. ‘The Countess would have my guts for garters!’

  ‘Then you should pray for a blond baby too!’ Robert said and looked away as the Chancellor opened the day’s business.

  Elizabeth had stayed in bed longer, at Robert’s behest. He had woken her early by kissing her stomach. She stretched languorously and Robert smoothed his palm over her navel, before he kissed it again. She expected him to make love, but he didn’t, he just stroked her stomach and kissed her navel until she flew out of bed to be sick in the wash stand again.

  ‘God Damn!’ she shouted. Robert laughed as he climbed out of bed and whetted a flannel for her face.

  ‘Your best curses will come in childbirth.’ He snorted. ‘Some of Edward’s best ones, I suspect.’ She looked at him in horror. ‘Its really amazing how many Ladies loose all propriety when they are lying on their backs, with their legs wide open and the issue of their womb is forcing it’s way out!’ She gulped down the water he offered and sighed as her stomach settled a little. She gargled with a little cologne to sanitise her mouth.

  ‘I know.’ She whispered, after she spat out the cologne. ‘It’s no fun pushing out a dead one either!’ she said rather harshly. Robert put his hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her to his chest and hugged her tightly. During the night she had told him everything as she cried and sobbed out the grief of past pregnancies.

  ‘So let’s make sure this time that doesn’t happen.’ He swept her up in his arms and took her back to the bed. Laying her carefully down, he climbed in beside her and pulled the bedclothes over them both. He held her gently in his arms. ‘We don’t want you to lose this one, so I suggest caution at all times.’ He sighed. ‘No running on the stairs, no riding, no more vigorous sex!’

  ‘I don’t think I can agree to the last one!’ she said and smiled wickedly at him as she dropped her hand onto his flaccid penis. ‘So soft.’ She murmured as she took it in her hand and then smiled as it stiffened. ‘So firm.’ She murmured.

  ‘Do you know what I’m going to do with my stiff cock?’

  She laughed brightly and shuffled her body down the bed. ‘No but I know what I’m going to do to it!’ and he groaned as she engulfed him again, but this time, she just delicately tormented him. Flicking her tongue over the head, tracing the point of her tongue down his throbbing penis until she could kiss his testes. She stroked her palm over his genitals, and then she cupped his testicles before she gently kissed, licked and sucked them. She stroked the scrotum with her finger as she traced her tongue back up his member to flick it again over the head. Robert was moaning and groaning throughout her attentions and by the time she’d got ba
ck to the beginning, he’d forgotten his own name. He clutched her shoulders suddenly and dragged her back up to his face, where he kissed her passionately. He gently rolled her over and was surprised she was already wet and accommodating as he thought to force his manhood in her, but he slid in so easily and instead of frantically making love, he restrained himself and slowly pulled himself out again, listening for the pop so reminiscent of a kiss, before he pushed back in and smiled as he heard the air forced out. Slowly and carefully he made exquisite love to the woman who was going to be his wife and as she lifted her hips to demand more, he gave in and increased his speed, until she started to cry out with each thrust and her internal muscles cramped and pulsed. Robert felt his orgasm burst like a shower of sparks that washed from his toes until it hit the inside of his cranium. He forced his pulsing manhood in as far as he could get it and jerked with each pulse as he ejaculated his essence against her womb. He was aware of her legs crushing his ribcage and he gently stroked his hand down her thigh. ‘I love you, Elizabeth.’ He panted softly in her ear. ‘I would die for you!’ he declared.

  She sobbed suddenly and he looked down at the tears coursing down her face. ‘I don’t want you to die for me, I want you to live!’ and she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him down off his elbow so that she could crush him against her body. He felt her feet in the small of his back and still their sexes pulsed and throbbed as he buried his face in her hair.

  Eventually Mary arrived with a tray of tea.

  ‘Good morning, My Lady.’ She said brightly as she walked through the door.

  Elizabeth had hidden Robert under the bedclothes the second she knocked the door. ‘Will His Grace need the Duke’s bath tub this morning?’ she asked brightly.

  Robert flicked the sheet off his face and asked. ‘How did you know I was still here?’

  ‘Oh! Your Grace! Where else would you be?’ she asked breezily as she took the wash basin to the maid at the door. Then she turned her attention to building up the fire.

  Elizabeth put on her nightgown and then went to use the commode. Robert lay in bed and listened to her, but as she came back around the screen he had a vivid picture of her in aquamarine silk and his heart skipped a beat.

  Robert had bathed and shaved. Carter had been across to his house during the evening and Burke had arrived with his clothes for the House. She found it fascinating to see him shave his own face. ‘Why do you shave yourself?’ she asked softly from the bed, where she was propped up against the pillows.

  ‘Habit.’ He said and scraped another blade full of soap off his cheek. ‘I got into the habit in the army.’ He explained as he wiped the soap off the blade onto a flannel. He pulled his skin tight and stroked the blade down his face again.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to do anything stupid, today?’

  He rinsed his face, patted it dry with a towel and picked up her bottle of cologne, unscrewed the top and sniffed it, before splashing some in his palms. He hissed and danced around the bedroom as the cologne stung. It was enough to make his eyes water. ‘I don’t think I shall be doing anything stupid, but if I see Craanford, I shall give him a piece of my mind!’

  She flung the bedclothes aside and stomped over to him, standing right in front of him, looking upwards into his face. ‘Let me make myself plain, here. I don’t want you to call him out. I will be most displeased if you do!’ and with that she turned on her heel and stomped back to the bed, flicking the linen over her and folding her arms across her chest.

  ‘I had no idea I was marrying a tyrant!’ Robert said, ran across the room, threw himself onto the bed and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I promise I won’t call him out today.’ He kissed her softly before he left for the house.

  Mary arrived and the ablutions began as the maids manoeuvred the bath into the room.

  ‘Do you know, Mary? I think when we take up residency across the Square; I’ll have a proper room just for my bath tub!’

  ‘That will certainly make it easier, My Lady.’ Mary said with a faint smile. There would be a lot of things done differently when she was a Duchess, of that Mary was sure.

  Argyll and Robert lunched at Boodle’s Club, in St. James’s Street. Nearly half the house was in there and as usual the Claret flowed along with the Roast Beef.

  ‘Do you think the Earl of Craanford will pester the Lady Elizabeth again?’ was the topic of conversation and Robert was silent, concentrating on his food. ‘He’d be a bloody fool if he did!’ was the consensus of opinion. ‘It’s not wise to tweak Bosworth’s nose, as Beresford will find out when he gets home!’ and the last one was definitely the shock over his decision to marry, ‘Bosworth with a wife? I’ll believe it when I see it. All the ladies of London will sob in their tea if it’s true!’

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ Argyll asked quietly. Robert shook his head. ‘Water off a ducks back! You develop a thick skin in the army.’ He sighed. ‘If I couldn’t handle a little gossip I would have buried myself in the country years ago.’ He laughed coarsely. ‘The speculation will continue until Abigail Beresford produces her bastard and so long as it’s blond, the speculation will continue. If its brown or red, then they’ll know who the father is. But sooner or later something will happen to turn the gossips head and we’ll be forgotten.’

  They chatted amiably about the papers and bills for the afternoon session and returned to the house at around two o’clock. Robert sat comfortably on the bench, folded his arms over his chest and promptly nodded off. It had been a long sleepless night and now Craanford had been dealt with, he felt relaxed enough to nod off. Argyll smiled wryly and listened intently for the first ten minutes. By three o’clock he was dozing too.

  Elizabeth was sitting in the drawing room alone. She was finishing the embroidery on a fine muslin shawl. She intended to wear it on her wedding night, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be wearing anything on her wedding night.Still it keeps my hands busy.She thought as her mind strayed back to Robert and how he was that morning. She sat with the small smile curving the corners of her mouth and she gasped as she recollected how velvety and soft he felt.

  The door flew open, crashing into the wall hard enough to rattle the Turner watercolour hanging from the picture rail. She looked up in shock to see a ragged Alexander Audley swaying in the door frame. Behind him on the carpet, she could see an unconscious Mary, bleeding from her nose. She sat, rigid in the chair, her mouth a dark circle of incomprehension, her needle arrested on its travel back to the cloth.

  ‘So here you are!’ he blurted. He was very drunk. Alexander had left the house that morning and spent the day burying his own cowardice in the bottom of a bottle. ‘Going to marry that harlot Roding are you?’ he staggered into the room and made a grab for Elizabeth’s wrist. ‘Over my dead body!’ he said incautiously. As his fingers tried to close on her wrist Elizabeth was jerked out of her stupor and she dived out of the chair and reached for the fire iron on the hearth. But Audley was ready for it and grabbed her around the waist. He turned her around, clutched both of her wrists in one hand and tried to kiss her. Elizabeth wriggled and jerked, trying to heave her body from his embrace. Audley gripped her hair with his other hand to keep her head still and crushed his mouth over hers so brutally that the skin was smeared off her lips against her teeth. Elizabeth did as Robert had told her to do and she jerked her knee upwards into the fork of his legs, but Audley was waiting for it and took the blow on his thigh. He wrenched her face away from his and brought his fist straight onto her jaw. As Elizabeth slid into unconsciousness, Audley heaved her over his shoulder and staggered out of the door, heading towards the back of the house.

  He was quite annoyed, as he’d had to deal with quite a few members of staff, but he’d had the most satisfaction of punching Rogers in the face until he stopped moving.

  Lady Sarah Trevanon had ordered tea. She was still sitting in her bedroom and wondering where the maid had got to. She stormed out of the Pink room and ran down the stairs to the main landing.
She knew that Elizabeth was in the informal drawing room on the ground floor and Lady Verity was in her private sitting room. So she swung her body around the post at the top of the main staircase and stopped dead, as she saw Alexander Audley carrying an unconscious Elizabeth over his shoulder. He was muttering to himself so she listened intently as she silently walked down the stairs and followed him to the back of the house.

  ‘You’re not going to marry Bosworth, because I said so. You’ll be too busy attending to your wifely duties to me!’ he laughed lasciviously. ‘And I have just the thing for a wayward wife who has said no six times.’ He patted her bottom. ‘You’ll like it! I got it from a slave trader, complete with shackles and everything!’

  Sarah watched in horror as he walked straight out of the door to the stables. He didn’t look behind him once. So she followed cautiously and watched as he heaved Elizabeth onto the seat of his carriage. He looked up at the coachman and said clearly. ‘Take us home!’ and scrambled inside slamming the door after him. She stood and watched the coach turn into the mews and then she turned and ran back into the house.

  It didn’t take her long to find out where all the men were. Most of the footmen were tied up in the staff dining room, the housekeeper, cooks and housemaids were locked in the cellar. She released all of the staff as fast as she could, ran up the stairs and quickly stripped off her dress, threw on her britches and riding clothes. She ran down the stairs to find Rogers just coming around.

  Sarah ran down to the stable, led her horse out and threw it’s saddle and headgear on, threw herself into the saddle and galloped out of the gate and down the mews.

  Robert started to moan, which alerted Argyll. He sat up straight, washed his hands over his face and nudged Robert hard in the ribs. Robert sat up with a jerk, eyes staring and breathing ragged.

  ‘What were you dreaming about?’ Argyll whispered.

  Robert looked around at his friend and slowly relaxed shaking his head. ‘Nothing I’m going to tell you about.’ He signalled the steward and ordered some Claret. The steward arrived quite quickly. Robert took a deep draught of his wine. ‘What’s being discussed at the moment?’ he asked and yawned.