by Cheryl Bolen
He remembered setting off for Eton like a miniature man, hearing his mother's soft cries in the distance, while he willed himself not to break down and run back into her secure embrace and admit how desperately he wanted to stay back with her.
But always his father urged him to behave like a man. And a man did not give in to weakness. A man concealed his deepest emotions.
With a grim set to his mouth, he remembered how he had sat beside his mother's grave and spoke of his love for her–words he had never been able to tell her while she was alive.
Before the dim sun went down that night, Bonny, her husband and cousin, along with a couple of dozen villagers, buried her mother in the kirkyard beside her father's grave. As she stood within the confines of the low rock wall that surrounded the yard, listening to the lonely whoop of the wind and the words of the vicar, she wiped but a single tear from her eye. She remembered the smile on her mother's face as she breathed her last breath. And Bonny knew her mother had joined her beloved husband.
After the ceremony, Bonny turned to her own beloved husband. He raised her chin with his knuckle. "Tomorrow, my love, we go to your new home."
Chapter Six
On this day Radcliff had chosen to ride in the carriage with the ladies, for they would soon arrive at Hedley Hall and he wanted to see his bride's face when she first set eyes on her new home. Throughout the journey he had continued his practice of riding by himself, rather than undergoing the torture of being so close to his wife, whom he still had not made truly his own.
When he told Bonny on their wedding day he would not make love to her until they reached the marriage bed at Hedley Hall, he had meant it. Making love to her on their actual wedding night was out of the question. She had just buried her mother that very evening. After she was dressed for the night in an embroidered white muslin gown, he had entered her chamber with a sleeping draft and coaxed her into bed, gently pushing the glorious black hair from her beautiful face. "Here, my dear, this will help you sleep," he had told her.
She looked at him curiously and obeyed. "You are not sleeping here, sir?"
"We can wait until we get to Hedley Hall. We'll have the rest of our lives. Tonight, we will show respect for your mother." He had brushed his lips across hers and left her room.
Consummating their marriage in a drafty inn along the way held no appeal to him. Bonny deserved far more grand surroundings, as well as privacy not afforded in the close quarters of the country inns.
Bonny would truly become his wife on his mother's bed, the bed where he was conceived and born, the bed where his heir would be conceived and born. He had written ahead to his capable housekeeper, Mrs. Green, to redo his mother's room for his bride. He instructed her to have the room done in a turquoise blue to match Bonny's eyes.
He turned away from the coach window and took Bonny's hand in his. "I had best warn you, my love," he said, "that Hedley Hall is a bit, how should I say it?– awesome for a residence."
Her eyes flashed. "How so, Richard?"
"I am given to understand the first duke was close to Queen Elizabeth and welcomed her at Hedley Hall, so he wanted it to be quite as magnificent as a palace. Actually, it looks rather like a Tuscan palace. In fact, Cosimo de' Medici visited Hedley Hall in the sixteenth century and said as much."
"Oh dear, I assure you I will not know how to act."
"You will make it a home once again, I am sure. My staff will be at your complete disposal to show you the linen closets and–well, all the things a mistress of the house knows about." He shifted his weight on the soft squabs of the carriage. God, this was far more comfortable than his mount He had ridden enough these past few weeks to last a lifetime. It was a wonder he was not barrel-legged.
"I hope your servants don't find me meddlesome," Bonny said.
"They will love you." He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. "In truth, Hedley Hall is more cozy to live in than one might think. During my parents' time, they took up residence chiefly in the west wing. That wing, which was added later, has less marble and more wood and seems to me more English. The main building is rather grand and is only used now for large assemblies–of which there have been none since my parents died."
"You don't want to open your house to friends?"
"As soon as you are out of mourning, my dear, I want to have the biggest ball ever thrown at Hedley Hall to show you off."
The duke knew the road well, and as they neared their turnoff, he tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. "After the next turn, my love, you will see your new home."
She moved to look through the window. The road they traveled split into two long roads that approached the magnificent Hedley Hall from either side and formed a semicircle which met at the pedimented portico entrance of the symmetrical three-story building. The afternoon sun struck the building in such a manner that the stuccoed brick wails looked golden. The building stretched across a neatly mowed park, and chimneys and dormers jutted from the roofline.
"It's so beautiful," she said softly, squeezing his hand.
Her reaction pleased him very much.
In anticipation of meeting their mistress, the liveried servants lined up inside the grand marble entrance hall. Her husband had informed Bonny he kept but a skeleton staff, so she was surprised to find that staff numbered more than twenty servants, including a new girl, Marie, whom he had instructed Mrs. Green to engage as Bonny's personal maid.
As she stood in the massive entry hall with its thirty-foot ceiling and chandelier with hundreds of candles, Bonny's chest tightened. She had never felt so insignificant, so lost. A vicar's daughter was as ill prepared to run this...this palace as a stable lad to become a king. She had made a terrible mistake. She would bring embarrassment to her husband. Her eyes scanned the thick scarlet carpet that ran up the broad marble staircase. She looked at the French tables with porcelain vases and the Carrara Roman statues. She knew so little of such treasures. Why couldn't she have fallen in love with a simple country squire?
She looked at her husband and swallowed hard.
The upper servants–Carstairs the butler, Mrs. Carstairs the cook, Evans the valet, Mrs. Green the housekeeper– were introduced by name; the others merely smiled politely.
After introducing the new duchess to her staff, the duke said, "And this is the duchess's cousin, Lady Emily."
"Lady Emily! We received a post for you," Mrs. Green exclaimed. "It's right over here." She fetched the letter and gave it to Emily, who took it with shaking hands and read.
"Mama demands that I come home at once." Emily's voice revealed her agitation.
Bonny stepped toward her cousin, and Emily handed her the letter. Written immediately after Lady Lucille read the duke's marriage announcement in the Gazette, the hastily written missive accused Emily of failing to suitably impress the duke and ordered her to come home to try to repair her situation.
Radcliff watched Emily look entreatingly at Bonny, then he asked Mrs. Green, "What room have you made ready for Lady Emily?"
"The green room, your grace."
He dismissed the servants, then offered his wife his arm as he led her toward the west wing. "I will show you the main house later, my dear." Turning to Emily, he said, "When would you like to return to London?"
"As soon as possible."
Their voices echoed in the vast room.
"My carriage is at your disposal."
"That is very kind, your grace. I should like to depart early tomorrow, then."
"Oh, Em, are you sure?" Bonny asked disappointedly. "You're welcome to stay here, isn't she, Richard."
"For as long as she likes," he said.
"No. I really do need to get back." Emily's eyes held Bonny's. "I have a very strong longing to get back to London. There are things there I miss very much."
They walked along a broad marble hallway, lit by a row of sashed windows.
"If you will just show me to the green room, I shall rest," Emily said. "I'm quite tired f
rom the journey."
Bonny moved to Emily's side and slid an arm around her cousin. "I am so very vexed with myself for allowing you to make such a long journey in your weakened health."
"Pooh!" Emily said.
The marble floors ran into the newer west wing, but this wing looked cozier because Oriental carpets in deep reds and blues covered much of the floors, and the rich dark woods of the wainscoting and balusters added a warmth that was lacking in the opulent main house. As they mounted the stairs, Richard pointed out portraits of various ancestors.
The duke showed Emily to her room, which was near the top of the stairs. Bonny entered the room to satisfy herself that a fire had been laid.
Next, Radcliff walked his wife to the end of the broad hallway to his own chamber, where deep reds covered the bed and windows, and dark woods gave the room a masculine look. Opened draperies offered light from the many windows of this corner room.
Bonny's eye fell on the large tester bed, but her husband was already walking toward the adjoining dressing room.
"Our rooms connect through this room," he told her.
She joined him and found the chamber as large as most sleeping chambers.
"Now you will see your room," he said softly. "It is where I was born. In my mother's day it was pink, but I had Mrs. Green oversee having it decorated for you." He opened the door to her room. "I wanted it the color of your eyes."
Sun bathed the large room from at least ten tall windows, where turquoise draperies opened beneath gold cornices. The aqua damask walls and silk bedspread matched the rose-patterned carpet.
The duke watched his wife's face brighten as she surveyed the room, then turned to him, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen."
He kicked the door shut behind him and closed the short gap between them. "I'm glad you like it, for this is the most important room in the house." He gathered her into his arms. He could hear the rapid thumping of her heart as he held her, cherishing the feel of her, his wife.
He lowered his head to kiss her and was pleased with her hungry response. His hands moved over her back, her hips, pressing her ever closer. Her breath, like his, grew harsh and labored as the kiss deepened. His lips trailed from her mouth to the hollow of her neck, and down the slope of her chest. He reached into her bodice and cupped a breast, while his other hand worked in a frenzy to free her of her dress. When it fell to her waist, his mouth closed over a pink nipple.
Her eyes darted to the window. "We'll be seen."
"No one will see us, my love," he said softly.
She backed away from him. "I would feel better if you drew the draperies, Richard."
"But I want to see you."
Color rose to her face. "I would rather you didn't."
A smile curved his mouth. "Very well." He strode to each of the windows and pulled the draperies together, turning to her when he finished, longing in his eyes.
She modestly held her dress over her breasts, her eyes on him as he crossed the floor to her and drew her to him. The top of her dress fell down as she closed her arms around him.
"Don't be shy, Barbara, for I am your husband. I will know your body as well as you do, and you will know mine. We belong to each other now." He tugged gently, and the rest of her garments slid off.
He took her hand and led her across the darkened room to the big tester bed. She lay on the bed, pulling part of the spread to cover her nakedness while her husband threw off his own coat and cravat and kicked off his boots. Wearing only breeches and an open shirt, he came to lie beside her, lifting away the blue bedspread to gaze upon her.
Catching his breath, he swallowed hard as his eyes lingered over her lovely milky white body. God's eyes, but she was incredibly beautiful! He reached to cup her full breasts, kissing her feverishly until she arched against him, her breath ragged.
Pleased beyond measure at his wife's hungry response, he slid his hands along her satin curves until his fingers moved into the soft join of her thighs, and she sucked in her breath. After she became accustomed to the gentle movement of his hand, she widened her legs and his stroking eased into her wetness, making her breath come even faster.
She pressed into him, urging him with her movements to continue whatever it was he was doing to her.
He had kept on his breeches so she would not see his enlarged need and be frightened. When he could stand it no longer, he eased open his pants and brought her hand to stroke him. Her hand did not enclose him but petted him as a frightened child might pet a dog.
"It's all right, my love. This was made to fit perfectly in you." He gently guided her to lie on her back and withdrew his luxuriously wet finger, replacing it with himself.
She gasped, but it was a gasp of pleasure rather than pain, he discovered as she parted her legs ever wider, raising her hips to meet him.
Mindful of his wife's innocence, he went ever so gently, savoring the incredible feel of being sheathed within her. As she lunged against him with urgency, he began to plunge deeper and deeper, his mind incapable of anything save the utter joy of his wife's compliance.
He felt her warm breath and held her tighter as she began to shudder beneath him in wave after wave of wrenching spasms that perfectly matched his own release. Then he collapsed over her.
He had never felt so utterly satisfied with a woman, but he had never lain with a woman he truly loved. His love for Barbara nearly overpowered him with its intensity. Nothing in her statuesque demeanor would ever have told him she could be so receptive to his lovemaking, though he'd known of her warmth by her affection toward Emily and her devotion to her mother.
Bonny told herself she should be ashamed over her wanton behavior. Wasn't a lady supposed to recoil from such intimate acts? But she couldn't seem to get enough of this man who was now her husband. She had not even felt any of the pain a virgin was supposed to feel. Was that because Richard was so skilled a lover? She wondered if what happened between them was just another physical act to her experienced husband. Was she just another body he could use for his own pleasure? Could he possibly feel half of what she was feeling?
She lay in his arms a long while, feeling utterly complete while wrapped in his embrace. She lost all track of time. It occurred to her she should be embarrassed, were the servants to guess what they were doing, but her pride was not as great as her pleasure.
Richard propped himself on one elbow to trace with a finger her cheek, her nose, her mouth as his eyes studied hers. "Do you hurt?"
She shook her head, the vestiges of passion still in her eyes as she raised her head to kiss him.
"Oh, my love, you will get me started all over again, and we cannot spend the day in bed–much as I would love to."
"I did not realize this–what we have done–happens in the daytime."
He laughed a hearty laugh. "Oh, what an innocent you are, my dear." He brushed back stray strands of black hair from her damp temples. "But very satisfactory in bed, I am happy to say."
Words of love would have pleased her more, but those words would have to hold her. "I feel like an utter harlot, I assure you."
He laughed again. "Please don't. Remember, all married persons do what you and I just did."
"And a lot of persons who aren't married. You most certainly must be considered a skilled lover, my husband."
"My love, if I have intimately known women in the past, I must assure you none have been nearly so captivating as you."
Those words gave her great comfort. She had felt her lack of experience would render her unpleasant in his bed, since she had been told men placed great importance upon the pleasures of the flesh. She was gratified to know he found her adequate, and she decided to learn to pleasure her husband in every way.
Radcliff kissed the tip of her nose, rose from the bed and went into the dressing room. She heard the sound of trickling water. A minute later he reappeared with a wet handkerchief and sat on the edge of the bed. "There is blood the first time
, you know."
Her face grew red as he brought the cloth between her legs. "Let me do that!" she said, taking it from him. "And please turn your head, sir. This is most embarrassing to me."
He refused to turn his head. "Your body will be as mine and mine as yours, as I have said." He watched her wipe between her legs, and when she finished, he took the bloodstained handkerchief and tossed her chemise to her. "I apprehend you would like to dress. I will see to the bedspread."
Averting her gaze from his, she did as her husband instructed, but conflicting feelings battled in her mind. During the lovemaking, her nakedness seemed comfortable, even pleasing. But now it was embarrassing, though not nearly so embarrassing as the idea of him wiping between her legs. Only her husband's calm reaction prevented her total humiliation. He seemed so thoroughly comfortable it quite convinced her that all married people shared such intimacy with regularity. She thought of his words. Your body will be as mine and mine as yours.
She truly belonged to him now.
Chapter Seven
Casting a rueful glance at her sleeping husband, Bonny reluctantly left her warm bed as dawn's hazy glow slipped into her room the next morning. Remembering his lips and hands exploring every inch of her during their night of lovemaking, she fought the desire to climb back in bed with him. She must see Emily off.
Not having alerted Marie that she would rise so early, Bonny was glad to dress herself. She was not accustomed to having a maid, nor was she comfortable allowing that maid to find a man in her mistress's bed. Bonny wondered how other married women handled such a situation. She had so much to learn. About being a married woman. About Hedley Hall and being a duchess. About her enigmatic husband.
Fastening the last button of her long-sleeved mourning dress, she quietly left the room and walked down the cold hall to meet her cousin.
Emily's room smelled of a wood fire. Her bed was already made and her valise and hatboxes stacked one on top of the other near the door. Emily stood fully dressed in a muslin day gown, directing her gaze out the window.
