The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Jaclyn placed both hands over her mouth to squelch any sound. “It doesn’t sound pleasant at all to me.”

  “I do have an older cousin who likes to imbibe spirits, and her lips speak freely. She says it is as if you’ve entered heaven and never want to come back. As for prevention of pregnancy, the male wears a French Letter, and his seed lands inside the thin sheath. After the act, it is removed. She claims she’s done it many times.” Josette tilted her head toward Jaclyn. “Whichever one of us does it first, let’s promise to tell each other? Yes?”

  “I don’t know if the words could leave my lips. I don’t want to be first.”

  “There are things we don’t know about, Jaclyn. We should make a point to find out more from the female servant staff, but then they’d want to know why we ask. It will get back to our elders. We could be sent off to another convent.”

  The door opened, and Sedona advised them they’d be late for high tea so they should hurry.

  Rosy-cheeked Josette jumped off the settee first, with Jaclyn following. They settled their skirts and left the room to join the festivities.

  Jaclyn stopped on the landing in sudden remembrance of Radolf’s tented kaftan and her semi-undress. She did like his wonderful kisses. Horrors, she could have gotten hurt and pregnant. What was a young lady to do? Dare she ask Camille about such things as sex?

  Why didn’t the romance novels print such things? No wonder so many women were in a family way without benefit of marriage.

  Jaclyn vowed she’d never allow a man—any man—to subject her to pain, pleasure, and the disgusting French Letter.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Love and Sex

  In the drawing room, the men were present and Camille supervised the tea service. Jittery, Jaclyn dared not engage Radolf’s eyes. He knew her so well and could ply information from her. Josette’s news about sex disturbed, that’s true, but Jaclyn would have to avoid kisses and the like at all costs with him.

  Double horrors, she thought back to the time when she asked Halifax to teach her how to kiss. No wonder the scoundrel agreed. No wonder her guardian was infuriated with her to ask the rogue for such an education. No wonder she skated close to scandalous ruin.

  Jaclyn thought back to her mother and for a tiny moment, wished she were here to give honest instruction on what to do, what to avoid, and how to keep a man’s attention without all the falderal. Her mother with her dalliances never got pregnant, so there was a lot to learn.

  She accepted a cup of tea and tried to control the tremors of her hand. She sat next to a table and placed the saucer and cup there for stability. Josette appeared to handle their education better than she, and busily chatted with Major Anderson. Her stomach queasy, Jaclyn took small bites of the cucumber-dill sandwich and dared not taste the trout because of the fishy smell to her taste buds.

  Monsieur Dupree approached and asked if she found contentment with life in the countryside. He mentioned her unfortunate incident with the horse. “I would have suggested we ride tomorrow, but I fear it may be too soon. His Grace and I will leave early in the morning and then come back in time for other activities.” He held his cup to his lips in the enjoyment of the Ceylon flavors. “This is one of my most favorite of teas.”

  Dupree sat next to her and deposited his teacup and saucer on his side table. “You are quiet, Jaclyn. Is all well? You and Josette have not quarreled, have you?”

  “No, it’s that we’ve had so much to tell each other. I imagine it will be a long night.”

  Wolferton came to her. “I am about to show Monsieur Dupree and his daughter the conservatory. Would you like to accompany us?”

  Jaclyn gazed at him, and for the life of her, all she could think of was firm male members, pain, pleasure, and consequences. She blinked away a vision of him without clothes. Sweet heaven. She managed to calm her emotions by changing her mental images. Goodness knows some parts of her felt abnormally warm…wet…unfamiliar.

  She loved the smile that so relaxed her. In a study of his lips, she now deemed him dangerous. Then realized as long as there were other people present, she could participate in the events.

  He extended his hand, and she arose to accept his arm. Camille and the major stayed behind to chat.

  Jaclyn was uneasy. The talk with Josette upset her. Much aware of Radolf’s presence, she prayed he wouldn’t read her mind. She left the group and told Camille she needed to rest a moment. In her room, Jaclyn locked the door, threw herself on the bed. If she stayed too long, her absence would cause a stir, but at the moment Jaclyn needed to calm herself. Rest did not come easy. She tossed and turned, arose, looked out the window at the happy guests, and decided, so not to appear rude, she’d have to join them.

  At the vanity, she slapped her cheeks to a rosy glow, and returned to the group, hoping she appeared none the worse for wear. Radolf came to her side. “Were you unwell? Was it something you ate? I worried about you.”

  “I just needed a moment to myself. All the girl talk brought back memories—mostly good ones. Josette is worldly and I am not. Just let’s call it nostalgia.”

  She managed to control her demeanor.

  “Let’s walk along the path, in full view, and if something is bothering you, we can talk about it.”

  “Oh, No.” She could never talk to him about the visions that were painted in her mind about men, women, love, and sex.

  ****

  Someone or something had frightened her. Wolferton assumed it could be the allegations in Halifax’s letter. She probably discussed all with her friend and was warned to exercise caution when it came to all men.

  “If Halifax’s letter has upset you, it would be wise to allow me to defend myself. There are two sides to every story, and somewhere in between is the truth, my dear.”

  He stepped closer.

  She moved farther back.

  “I don’t believe all that Halifax alleges. No, that’s not the problem.”

  “It hurts me that you don’t trust me, after all I’ve been to you.”

  “I do trust you, truly. It’s me when I’m with you. I like how you make me feel. It’s all so new to me. Our education at school about men and their ways was so limited or non-existent. We dared not ask questions. Josette informed me about the ways of men. So there are all these stories that are bandied about. I have so many questions and too few answers.” She turned her head from him. “I understand all your cautions now. England is so strange.”

  Radolf softened his voice. “Do I frighten you? If so, I’d like to know.” He had held her in his arms half naked, and while he wanted to impress her with the consequences of good and evil when it came to love, it now scared her half to death.

  He took her arm, gently walked her away from the others. They stood under a lit lantern.

  “Radolf, when a couple makes physical love, I am told there is a pain at first. I must know, is it true?”

  “Yes, but only for a brief time. It is the nature of things.” He moved closer to her for fear she might swoon.

  “It is also pleasurable to the woman?” Jaclyn’s gaze held his.

  “Yes, but there are things a man does to ease the pain, to achieve pleasure for the couple.”

  She exhaled, “I see. Is it dishonorable for me to be with you that way? Answer me, please.” She flipped her fan open, lowered her lashes.

  “If we are not married, yes.”

  “Can your kisses cause me to become enceinte?”

  He chuckled. “No, kisses alone do not cause such an event.”

  “Then what does?” She closed the fan, and it rested on her wrist.

  He raised both hands upward, conscious of the fact they were in full sight of everyone. “How do I explain this to a complete innocent? The basics are that my seed resides within my…ballocks. When my penis firms, and penetrates you, it removes the natural barrier. The seed is allowed to spill, and afterward, because of our intense love, our emotions will pleasure us.”

  “Your penis?�
�� she said in a loud voice.

  He pulled her away from the open doors. “Shush, Jaclyn, that is the term used in a biological description.”

  “That is not a romantic word,” she whispered. Out came the fan again.

  Wolferton whispered, “If a man does not wish to cause pregnancy, he wears the French Letter.”

  “This is the truth?” she widened her eyes and held his gaze.

  “Yes, it is.” He tried hard not to laugh, but she was adorable and precious in her naiveté.

  “How do I know I can believe you?”

  “Because Jaclyn, I do not lie. Come with me now to my study, and we will ask our guardian angels if what I have told you is the truth. They will affirm or deny it.”

  “They are your guardian angels. I am merely part of the package.” She huffed.

  “We have guests, my dear ward. Let us enjoy this evening. I can only say that I am an honorable man who has to come to terms with who he was and who he has become. I’ve paid a high price to achieve my peace. I’ve never sought redemption by an innocent woman, but perhaps I am ready.”

  “No, I will not seek confirmation from the guardian angels, but surely there is some other reference I can study.”

  “Study?” he questioned, difficult as it was to present a serious expression.

  “Yes. What is so strange?”

  “I’ve never read such information. I experienced it and followed my instincts as a young boy.” He did not wish to impart that some of the older schoolboys were explicit in their tales of seduction and gratification.

  She turned her head toward the veranda and kept her voice low. “Surely you must have had questions about…this and that?”

  “No, I learned through experimentation.” His honest answer without laughter surprised him.

  Shock covered her face. “Men can experiment and women cannot? Is that what you declare?” She wrung her hands together.

  “Jaclyn, this conversation has gone beyond the merits of enlightenment on your part. I do not wish to continue. Perhaps you should speak to Camille about such female issues.”

  “I couldn’t do that, Radolf. It would be too embarrassing.”

  “Yet you are not embarrassed to speak with me?”

  “No, because we have shared some intimacies. Oh, I’m so confused.”

  He took her by the arm and walked her back to the group. “Not another word out of you. Do not mention the biological word to anyone, and that includes Josette.”

  She tried to stop him, but his grasp was stronger than her ability to resist.

  His mind raced at the incongruity of the conversation, and while he wanted to laugh riotously, he envisioned the ultimate pleasure to teach her everything she wanted to know. Now that thought held merit.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The Biggest Lie

  Wolferton never had a better time with a woman than with his unusual risqué conversation with Jaclyn. No doubt she attracted him. He knew her and yet he didn’t. Never sure what she would say or how she would say something became a constant intrigue.

  Pleased at the superb dinner, and the lively conversations, he recalled his words with the lovely Jaclyn. It wasn’t that she was irreverent but more that she did not have any experience with the opposite sex. Damn, the three-letter word made his loins uncomfortable.

  They were in the fourth round of dances. A breeze flowed through the drawing room, under the candle chandeliers whose glow undulated with the dancers. Wolferton claimed his second waltz, which he knew she favored. The local musicians played so well that they received acclamations from the guests.

  He held her closer than he should, but still respectably.

  Her smile held a secret. Some women had a way to hint at one thing while their intent was another—better than a double entendre—and she had learned that art well.

  “Your friend seems to enjoy Major Anderson’s company, which I’m glad to see. Does she fancy him?”

  Jaclyn gazed at the couple who twirled by. “She’s not mentioned the major’s name. It’s too soon to tell. He’s quiet and very handsome.”

  The music was a slower version of the waltz, a country variation, and it allowed for better conversation. They made two rotations and were near the French doors when Wolferton suggested to the group, “Let’s dance on the terrace. It’s much cooler.”

  The dancers followed without a loss of step and twirled under a starlit sky with candle lanterns on the posts, spellbound by the night. Conscious of how Jaclyn stared at him, Wolferton would have liked to read her thoughts, but she smiled, aglow, happy by all indications, wordless, but deep in thought. He would bet a large sum of money about those notions and that they involved love and sex.

  “I’d like to talk further to you tonight but in such small company it would seem rude. Can we meet later after the house is quiet…perhaps in your study?”

  “If it can’t wait until the morrow, I’ll wait there for you. Upstairs or downstairs?” Wolferton asked with a grin.

  “The conservatory might be more private,” she offered.

  “Nothing is more private than my upper suite. No one would dare enter without permission. Is this serious?” He held her afar and searched those voluminous eyes.

  “Yes, it is. I received a note from my mother who asks to visit me tomorrow. She’s on her way to Budapest. I don’t want to see her, yet I do. I didn’t say she couldn’t come.” She withdrew from him and walked a few paces toward the drawing room. “You won’t let her take me with her, will you?”

  “Jaclyn, no one on this earth could do that. I can see this has upset you. We’ll talk later. You had a fitful night, with little sleep. I suggest we all retire. We men will have our brandy and cigars, and the ladies can bid us good night. Will that suit?” He gave her a smile for comfort. Was there no end to the surprises that were presented to him on this visit?

  Halifax was nearby, and now Claudette pays a visit. No good could come of it—of this he was sure.

  Wolferton pondered the conversation between him and Jaclyn the past few hours, which ranged from sexual parts, then pain, pleasure, satisfaction, and then the insecurity of her mother come-to-claim her.

  The men finished their libations and left. The servants cleared the drawing room and prepared for the next morning’s breakfast. Wolferton stood in the lower study with a full glass of cognac and went to the guardians’ window. “I didn’t have this much excitement in the war. What next?”

  The red wolf blinked, but Golden Boy was still. Kort lay near the fireplace in contentment, gazed up, then moved his paw, and repositioned himself farther from the heat.

  Wolferton placed his unfinished drink on the table and left the study. His mind so weary, wearier than it had ever been. In his suite, he dismissed the night valet, and preferred to be fully clothed when Jaclyn visited. He wanted everything to be proper—or as proper as he could make it.

  The light of the fire cast a glow. He sat in his chair and fought the desire to sleep. Blessed sleep, but there was a tap on the door, and he arose to open it. Jaclyn was there in her wrapper tightly cinched with her glorious hair let down to below her shoulders. He wanted to blaspheme but wouldn’t do so aloud. If ever there was a moment of temptation, it was in front of him now. How many tests were there? He stopped counting.

  Her actions and reactions stymied him. Her curious questions one minute, and then she enters his room, with nothing but her wrapper in a display of all her feminine curves. Most of all, her long silky tresses would tempt a cardinal. He inhaled. Did she deliberately play a game?

  Jaclyn ran to him and clung to Radolf like a drowning woman. He held his arms at bay, open, still, proper, but when she leaned back and gazed at him, he embraced her as if there was no tomorrow—only the moment—together. She needed him, and that was enough to convince him—he was a fool to not recognize the truth. Jaclyn was his, and he was hers.

  “I’m here,” he whispered in her ear. Arms couldn’t talk, but if they did, they would not
believe his good fortune to hold her so close—so needy. Now he spoke like an idiot. They stood in the embrace for longer than was necessary. “What do you want me to do?” Radolf asked.

  “Hold me closer. I’m only safe when I’m with you. Don’t let me go.”

  He moved away, sat in his large chair, and beckoned to her. “Come sit on my lap. Tell me all.”

  Out of her wrapper pocket, she withdrew the letter, showed it to him and positioned her body gracefully to the side of his burgeoning groin.

  Heaven help him.

  He scanned the missive. No affection. No emotion. No apology. “Do you want me or Camille to be with you when she arrives?”

  She answered so quickly he sensed her fear. “No. Just be nearby.”

  “Very well, then I’ll be in my study with the door open, and you have but to call and I’ll come to your aid.”

  “I’ve no right to ask this of you. You’ve done so much already. Why must I always be a burden to those I love? My father? Camille? You? Is this my destiny?”

  Wolferton wanted to relax her. He’d never witnessed such heart-felt emotions. Brittle, ready to crack, it would take so little for her to slip into another world. She had her head on his chest and leaned into him, a quiet sob escaped. He would give all he owned to erase her fears. “You are only a burden if you believe it so. Think of this, Jaclyn, if this is a conversation with your mother that you’ve avoided all your life, then you need to have it. It will give you closure if that is your desire.”

  “I need to ask a question of you that could cause us both pain.” Her fingers clutched his jacket sleeve enough to crease the cloth.

  “The question is?” He kept his voice low, serious, and curious.

  “Is it true my mother was your mistress? I need to know.” She held his gaze.

  He dropped his arms. “What the hell? Where did you get that idea?” If she weren’t in such a state, he’d throw her off his lap and then pick her up to spank her for such impertinence. “It is not so and never was. Your father was my best friend. How could I dishonor him in such a way? I repeat, where did you get this idea?”