Finally my mother and Kitty, sated with sweet tea and biscuits to kill a horse, were placed back into their carriage. With firm promises to write with our intentions for the season I waved, standing on the gravel driveway.
To my left were the stables, where no doubt the irritating Fitz was smugly anticipating tonight. He declared he was doing it for his own amusement, as though I was to be some sordid tale he could brag about in a gentleman’s club in later years.
So casual, so easy-going. I was wound tightly, fit to explode. The mechanism inside me, the one that kept me stationary and suspended in boredom for so long had broken it’s catch and now I itched, ached to be active.
I weighed up going to the stables, if only to trade barbs with him again. Maybe I would win this encounter. Currently I believe we are even. My slap for his trickery of yesterday.
Knowing this would be unwise I walked the other way. Down the driveway, the same way my mothers dark, gilded carriage with two horses had just departed. I tried to study the hedgerows and plants, the flowers that would normally occupy my time were insipid now.
“Your Grace!” a man called and I snapped to attention, drawing my dark blue shawl over my shoulders against the wind. Doctor Farrers was approaching. He had been Edmund's quack of choice for some months now, normally he became frustrated and terminated their services fairly swiftly.
“Doctor Farrers, good afternoon,” I returned with a polite nod, he offered a substantial bow.
“Forgive me, I do not mean to intrude upon the privacy of your day…I have a…query.”
“Then by all means proceed,” I replied. He was in his thirties, dark hair, beady little eyes. Tall and well built. Possibly quite handsome to most women but his eyes left me cold. There was something I never could trust in him. Perhaps the way he seemed to look at every room and size ups its contents, as though he ran an auction house.
It did not bother me if he stole or conned Edmund. As my husband often reminded me, it was his money and not mine. He could spend it as he damned well pleased. If Milo Farrers flattery was enough to convince him to hand over guineas for vegetable broths, more fool him.
“As I say, I mean no disrespect, judgement or anything on behalf of His Grace. But the Duchess does know that the disease he carries is potentially dangerous to you?”
“Apologies Doctor Farrers, I am afraid I do not understand”
“Milo,” he interrupted, taking my hand in his. It was cold and unwanted. This was uninvited attention from a man who was solely employed to look after my husband. “I mean to say, I understood your husband was not having…relations of the carnal nature with you. As he has told me he plans to resume so, I suggest you take these pills to ensure he does not transfer his ailments.”
Silently he moved his hand away and I realised I was holding a small metal canister. They rattled as I put my hand down to my hip.
“Thankyou, Doctor Farrers, Milo. I shall certainly take your advice into consideration.”
“May I apologise again for the intrusion on your day. Good day your Grace,” and with a polite bow he took his leave. There are so many questions swimming around my head now it is almost dark by the time I return to the house having wandered the gardens, lost in thoughts and memories for the longest time.
Even Marie was concerned, insisting I take soup as well as my dinner in my room to warm me. She undressed me more carefully. The boned half corset, with its demi-cups holding my breasts aloft carefully removed to avoid pinching the skin. My stays, attached to white stocking, were discarded and I stepped into a thick, cotton, matronly nightgown.
“You may have caught a chill wandering about like that ma’am,” she said, perhaps the kindest thing she had said to me in three years. I should have been cheered by that knowledge, instead my heart thundered with the fear that she knew.
She knew that tonight I was to meet another man. Perhaps all the servants knew and considered me a whore of the worst kind. My chest tightened and I found myself opening a window and breathing deeply, sending birds fluttering. Over and over I tried to steady my breathing.
The most challenging thing to admit, the fact that made me so breathless was the dirtiest, lowest fact of all. I wanted to lose my virginity. I didn’t want to live the life of a nun, I wanted to be touched. The grim baseness of my thoughts, the way my mind flicked back to his huge forearms, the way his green eyes caught the light. His smirk, so annoying, forced so many emotions I couldn’t start to untangle them in my mind.
It meant when the clock struck eleven and Edmund softly knocked I was wide awake and alert. There had been no rest. Just endless pacing, “calm down,” he snapped as we walked the length of the corridor. Guided only by his candle as the rest of the house was shut down and servants asleep we silently walked. I followed behind, ever the dutiful wife I pondered ironically to myself.
The guest suite had a gentle orange light underneath the door. He was already there. My breathing picked up, I had no idea what to do with myself. Behind that heavy wooden door waited a man. A man I despised. Or is it the situation I despise?
All I can do is hold my breath as Edmund opens the door.
To my surprise the room is warm, lit by a roaring fire and surprisingly inviting. Edmund must have arranged this, to make the experience less miserably cold. The first thing my vision landed on was the huge bed. Unwrinkled, perfectly starched white sheets beaming at me.The images of lewd women, eyes rolling, breasts exposed rose up in my memory. Was this to be my fate tonight? “Good evening Your Graces,” and I realised Fitz was standing behind us, leaning against the wall. He had his sleeves rolled up, his white work shirt unbuttoned by one to reveal a hint of light brown chest hair on his broad chest.He had one foot up, resting on the wall. So impossibly casual I wanted to throttle him. Had he no idea how much torment I had been through to even be standing here tonight?“When you have completed breeding, knock on the door twice. I shall then come through and inspect. I won’t be fooled Fitz.”“I assure you, I have absolutely no intentions of fooling you, Your Grace,” Fitz replied,
***FITZ POINT OF VIEW*** That husband of hers is a piece of work. I knew he was peculiar when he first approached me, all shambling limbs and angry venom. I put that down to his illness. Now I know he is furious that he cannot enjoy the beauty he has under his roof. What a beauty she is. I doubt she has any idea she is one of the rarest women in England. I have done my share of Seasons, balls and grand houses but she is spectacular. Those eyes are so blue, never have I met someone whose blue eyes are warm. They are sea-coloured, as are a thousand other women of virtue, but there is a depth, a warmth paired with the deep blue hue. It is why I was such a buffoon to her. Truth be told she completely took me by surprise when she turned around. I had expected her to be a dim, insipid creature. The typical Duchess, all teeth and no chin. She turned around and I found myself resorting to childish mockery. Of course I didn't have permission to ride Figaro. In fact the bastard nag threw me
Laying still on the bed I watch the last embers die in the black metal grate. The last sparks of orange and red were extinguished. How is this the same room that a few hours ago held a heat, a gaze so powerful it took my breath away. Green eyes, a low emerald glow that thrilled me to my core. I should hate what happened to me tonight. I'm lying here with another man's seed inside me. He'd rubbed, glided inside my most private of places. The panic I felt at my own slickness washed away when I realised its natural purpose. The delicious sensation of his touch was only heightened by what my body produced. The mystery behind the expressions and contortions of the women in the gossip rags was explained. Much more of Fitz manoeuvring, gently twisting inside me and I could have found myself doing exactly the same poses. Even my nipples were stiff. Before he even touched me I could feel them brushing the cotton fabric. It felt as though my mind was catching up to what my body already knew
He is in his usual white shirt, leather braces and tan working pants. His work boots are muddied and wet from the horse fields. I slowly walk towards him, unsure of what on earth I am meant to say. I want Jeremiah to return, yet at the same time I would give anything for a moment alone with this green-eyed oaf who mocks me so. “Good morning. Those are not for you.” “Are they not!” he exclaimed before continuing to take another bite. “Shame on you, those are for poor Jeremiah,” I added, stepping ever closer to him down the long corridor of stables. He stood up and leaned against the wall, continuing to enjoy his stolen snack. “Shame on you, he doesn’t even have the teeth for eating an apple. Where is the jam, the soft honey that would suit a man of his age?” he replied, throwing the apple core into one of the horse feed bags. “I…” losing my words as his white teeth bared in a triumphant smile of victory. “Where is your compassion, he is out there fetching Amber now with his poor
I was forced to dine with Edmund in the evening. My beautiful dusky pink dress was wasted on his pallid, disinterested expression. As a pudding of soft apple pie, a crumbling soft biscuits topping was served I couldn't help smiling to myself. "Pray tell me what is so amusing about a simple dessert?" Edmund asked, the spoon juddering in his hand. There was a vibrant vein of anger in his tone. I flushed in embarrassment, had it appeared I was mocking his frailty? "Oh, your Grace, it was a mistake of mine today. I took poor Jeremiah some treats from the kitchen as I mentioned at breakfast. Except I had not considered his age. The fresh, crunchy apples I brought were more appropriate for Amber. Almost nothing I gathered he could eat." He smirked and shook his head. "Ah my dear there is a lesson to be learnt there," stopping to slurp at his custard-coated spoon. His suit glittered with gold buttons and the navy jacket sung of expense and grandeur. His frame was not filling it with the sa
The fire is intense, much warmer than last night. Edmund must have realised that the one he ordered would not last the night. That is sweet of him. Yet the thought vanishes like snow on the wind as I see Fitz. I stood at the opposite side of the room today. He is immediately in both our eyelines. Stood tall and unsmiling, his strong, rounded jaw clenched the only emotion visible was in his green eyes. Those were fixed towards Edmund. “I don’t believe I need to repeat myself. Two loud knocks and I will enter for inspection.” Fitz merely nodded, "understood Your Grace," whilst I kept my gaze on the fire. Fitz wore the same white shirt, braces and breeches as this morning. Yet this man was so different to the joking, teasing chap. Every move seemed calculated and deliberate. Edmund took his leave and I kept my eyes on the fire until I heard the lock turn in the door. The clunk of the key in the door was paired with the thudding of my heart. Like the tightrope walker, a fantastical
Mercifully Edmunds kept his inspection of me is short. I lay completely still, my hands clamped together across my stomach. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, the cornicing and ornate fixtures of the room burned into my memory. Lifting my nightgown up and peering between my legs I conceal a shudder."Bred. Good. I shall see you in the morning.""Yes Your Grace," I answered stiffly, the delirious loosening of my body and soul has been undone. Fitz declaring he should not have kissed me left me shaken. I wanted both of them removed as soon as possible.Fitz left with Edmund without saying another word leaving me endure another night of frustration. Hot tears threatened to spill down my cheeks but I angrily wiped them away. Neither Fitz or Edmund deserve my emotions. I have misunderstood Fitz entirely. Any tenderness I thought of as his true nature, I now saw as a mask. His mocking, teasing ways were his true nature. The apple on his tongue, so surprisingly delicious, confirmed that fa
I struggle to take in the full view as a firm hand grabs around my waist and drags me inside. There is no corset or bodice, i can feel each of his fingers against my thin robe. The door slams shut and I am placed against it, his hands then immediately removed as he backs away. “What the devil are you doing here!"His shirt had been unbuttoned from the top, almost entirely. His blonde, ashy chest hair and rippled torso were visible and my eyes drank him in. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing muscular, thick forearms. The ones so strong they could control a horse like Figaro. It appeared my temporary lunacy had interrupted him retiring for the night by the way his braces hung loose by his hips. He quickly pulled them up, attempting to make himself presentable. Fitz’s wide, muscular body took up most of my view but the room had a leather chair, bookshelves, and a door leading to his sleeping quarters. It was basic, clean and more inviting than any room in Tarrick