Fenella Miller - The Duke’s Reform

“To us, my love. May the rest of our lives be spent in happiness and harmony.”

“To us.” She swallowed and the delicious concoction filled her with warmth and a strange excitement. That odd darkness she’d observed before was apparent in his eyes. Hastily she broke the connection and drank some more mulled wine, and then the vessel was pried from her fingers.

“Enough, Isobel, you’re not used to alcohol. Come and sit with me, there are matters I need to discuss with you.”

Not waiting for her to move he scooped her up and, before she could protest she was resting in his lap. It was pleasant to be held— she had not felt the protection of another’s arms since the nursery. She closed her eyes and didn’t flinch when his arms encircled her.

“Would you do something for me?”

Sleepily she gazed up at him; his smile made something most peculiar curl through her nether regions. “What is it you want, my lord?”

“Firstly, when we are alone, I wish you to use my given name— Alexander. I shall call you Isobel.” This did not seem unreasonable. She nodded and closed her eyes again. “Secondly, sweetheart, allow me to release your hair. Ever since I saw you waiting in the line at your ball I’ve dreamt of running my fingers through it. I insist you must never have it cut short whatever the prevailing fashions might dictate.”

She was too fatigued to protest. She raised her head allowing him access to her braid; if he wished to see it loose then he must release it himself. His fingers were deft. Seconds later she was enveloped in her hair. He gently propelled her forwards and began to draw his fingers through her locks from temples to neck.

Why should such a simple thing be sending shockwaves up and down her spine? An unusual restlessness was building in the very core of her being. Something made her wish to twist in his arms so she could see his face. When she did so she felt the- familiar hardness pressing against her bottom. Instantly her fear returned and she tried to scramble from his lap.

“Darling girl, you must not be scared of me. Whatever you have been told about what takes place between a man and a woman has obviously frightened you. I promise you I would never hurt you. It’s my duty to protect and care for you for the rest of your life.”

His words were soothing— his hands were stroking her, easing out the tension and the fear. She couldn’t tell him why she was afraid, but he would not lie to her His fingers buried themselves in the hair and tilted her head. His lips brushed hers sending spirals of pleasure around her overheated limbs.

“Trust me, darling, let me show you what it is to be loved. There’s nothing to fear. What we’re doing is a natural thing; a man and a woman are meant to be conjoined in this way.”

Her arms encircled his neck. She wished to have his lips pressing on hers, for his hands to continue to work their power, stroking and caressing her shoulders and neck. His mouth engulfed hers. His tongue demanded entry and her lips parted to let him in. She was lost in a place she hadn’t known existed, her body no longer her own.

When he stood and moved smoothly towards the bed, she made no protest. Gently he slid her down his chest until her bare feet were on the carpet. “I can’t make love to you until you’re free of these unnecessary items.”

She was mesmerized— could not have moved even if the house had caught fire. The ribbons at the neck of her garments were untied. He pushed the cotton over her shoulders and she was naked before him. Every inch of her was burning. Her breasts tingled and she wanted something from him but was not sure what this was.

Her legs gave way and she fell backwards onto the sheets. With one swift movement he tore off his bed-robe and stood before her as naked as she. Her eyes widened. She had not expected this. Before she could prevent it her glance dropped to his stomach— what she saw doused her flames as effectively as a bucket of cold water. Her fears returned and she rolled away attempting to hide herself in the covers.

She cringed from him but he gathered her close and kissed her softly. His hand moved from her face, down to her breast and the heat inside her returned. His lips trailed fire from her neck to her stomach. His tongue circled her nipple sending spirals of pleasure pulsing around her. As his mouth turned to give the same attention to her other breast his fingers traced the outline of her stomach and slid between her thighs.

She gasped in shock as they entered her most private place and began a magical dance that left her writhing in pleasure. She pressed against his hand wanting more, something else— she was burning up and only he could quench the fire. He rolled on top of her and gently nudged her legs apart. She forgot her fears as his mouth covered hers.

As he plunged his tongue inside he raised his hips and drove forward. Somehow her body accommodated him. There was a sharp pain and she stiffened. He paused. When she relaxed he continued his thrusting. An exquisite pressure, that was almost pain, centred on the place they were conjoined. With each surge she rose to meet him. She found release as waves of ecstasy engulfed her. She cried out his name— seconds later he groaned and expelled his seed inside her.

Still intimately linked he rolled sideways taking her with him. She couldn’t speak, could scarcely breathe. How could she have been afraid of something so amazing?

“My darling, I hope I didn’t hurt you. It is always so the first time.”

“The small pain was worth it, my love. I had never imagined anything so wonderful could take place between us. I can’t understand why Mama and Aunt Laura didn’t tell me how it would be.”

He laughed and smoothed back her hair. “They did not tell you, sweetheart, because not everyone experiences what you did.”

Surprised and intrigued by his answer she tried to wriggle away from him in order to converse in a more seemly way. His arm around her hips prevented her. “Surely the process is the same for everyone?”

His answer was to kiss her. She responded willingly and forgot all about her question.

When Isobel woke she was alone, the trays had vanished and she might almost have thought she’d imagined the whole thing apart from a delicious ache between her legs which told her she was no longer a girl—but a woman.

Today was her wedding day, she had never been so happy in her whole life. To be marrying the man she loved, who had shown her by his actions last night that he felt the same way, was something to celebrate.

The sound of water being poured into her bath meant she must rise immediately. Where was Mary? Her abigail was usually there with her morning chocolate long before this. Isobel leapt out of bed shocked to see the tell-tale blood stain on the sheets. She had pre-empted her wedding night, her relatives would be scandalized but she didn’t care.

Alexander had come to her because he knew how scared she was. By making love to her last night he’d demonstrated his care for her. She was the luckiest girl in England and in two short hours she would be his wife— nothing could spoil her joy in the day.

Impatiently she rang the bell that stood beside the bed. Mary could remove the evidence and keep it out of sight until tomorrow; with luck her secret would remain just that. The dressing room door opened and a strange young woman came in. She had pinched features and sharp knowing eyes.

“You rang, my lady? I’ve your bath ready; his grace said you would not be requiring breakfast this morning.”

“Where is my abigail? I don’t wish to be attended by strangers this morning.”

The woman curtsied stiffly; her lips curled but the smile did not reach her eyes. “Watkins left here first thing with the luggage. I’m now your personal maid. His grace appointed me himself to take care of you in future.”

Isobel turned away too upset to remonstrate with this supercilious intruder. Had everything they’d shared last night meant nothing? The man she thought Alexander to be would not have dismissed Mary without speaking to her first. He had sent away the only familiar face in this barracks of a building. She would be alone with a stranger and she was no longer sure of his feelings.

In frosty silence she allowed this unwanted woman to help her dress. Her joy in the day had gone. She couldn’t bear to think Mary thought this was her decision. This would mean Mary’s husband Sam, who was her personal groom, would have gone as well.

As soon as the last pin was pushed into her hair she stalked from the room and along the wide passageway. She could hear the church bells ringing. Newcomb had its own place of worship in the grounds and she was to be married there.

Her parents were waiting for her in the vast entrance hall. There was no sign of her other relatives. Their presence would have alleviated the tension, lifted her spirits just a little. “Mama, Papa, did you know Rochester has dismissed Mary? She’s gone without even the opportunity to say goodbye and after all she’s been to me these past years.”

 “Isobel, we had no idea she was not to remain here. These things are no longer under our control; you must abide by your husband’s decisions in future. I’m sure you’ll soon come to appreciate the superior woman he has appointed for you.”

 “I haven’t bothered to ask her name for she’s a stiff and unpleasant person. I shall insist that she is dismissed, but not today. In a week or two I’ll ask my husband to reinstate Mary and Sam as a favour to me.”

Her father scowled at her as if she had no right to criticise the man who’d given him a fortune in exchange for his daughter. “I wish to hear no more of your complaints, miss. You’re tardy and Rochester has been awaiting your appearance in the church for five minutes already.”

He offered his arm and she had no recourse but to take it. Before she had time to object she was being marched firmly down the aisle and standing beside her future husband. A wave of despair engulfed her when he turned to glance at her. This was not the Alexander who had made love to her so passionately— this was the autocratic man she’d hoped never to see again.

Somehow she mumbled through her vows, smiled bravely during the wedding breakfast but far too soon was at his side to wave her parents and relatives away. Without thinking she turned to him imploringly. “My lord, I shall miss my family sorely. May I invite them to stay later in the year?”

He shook his head. “No, not this year, my dear. Perhaps they can come when you have produced a child for them to dote on.” His arm was hard around her waist and she was firmly escorted inside. “Go upstairs and change into your habit, I thought we could ride around the estate this afternoon. I know you explored the park yesterday, but I should like to show the rest to you myself.”

“I should enjoy that above everything, I shan’t be long. Do we expect further visitors today?”

His eyes darkened and he lowered his voice so the ever present butler could not overhear. “I thought you might be tired this afternoon and wish to rest.”

His meaning was unmistakable; there would be little rest involved of that she was quite certain. Despite her sadness at his high-handed actions she could not help smiling at the thought of what was to come. His lips curved and he dropped a light kiss on her brow.

*   *   *

The weeks passed in much the same fashion. During the day he was distant, always aware of his position, never letting down his guard for a second. However, when he came to her room at night he was her darling Alexander, and she lived with these moments. He was assiduous in his attentions and she prayed she would not conceive immediately. If his visits stopped because of her pregnancy she would have nothing to look forward to.

Maynard, the supercilious housekeeper, appeared at noon each day with the menu but Isobel was not required to do more than read it. She had nothing to do apart from playing the pianoforte, painting water-colours of the grounds and reading her novels. Alexander usually rode out with her but during these rides she learnt little about the estate as they stayed within the park. Sometimes he was absent and she didn’t ask where he went. On the days he did not come to her at night he remained in his study drinking heavily.

When her monthly courses appeared for the third time things changed. Even his lovemaking became less passionate as if already he considered her incapable of producing the much wished for child. That this was her fault was indisputable. After all, had he not already fathered two children during his first union?