The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

  The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb | 61

  How long would he have to endure without it? Would Orley perchance deign to come and visit the manor over the years, or would he marry and put Chester from his mind?

  “Would you have me sit here and watch you writhe in pain, knowing I could ease your burden? It wrenches my heart to see you suffer so, Chester. I am a man of action. I have always been as such. Do not ask me to sit idly by and do aught but offer platitudes of comfort and sympathy, for I will not do it,” Orley said firmly.

  Chester nodded. He should have known Orley would not be able to watch him in pain. The man had been trying to devise a way to ease Chester’s aching over the past few days. Chester had been touched. Since he had been a young girl and had experienced his first turnting, it was something he did alone and in silence, often escaping into the garden to curl into a ball and curse the heavens that had given him the uterus that rested within him. Though if he did not have it, he would not be able even now to feel the sweet embrace of the Duke of Whitcomb wrapping around him. So perhaps all was not bad.

  “I shall strike a deal with you, my lord,” Chester said, resting his head on Orley’s shoulder.

  “What would you have of me, my lady?” Orley inquired, pressing a kiss against Chester’s neck.

  Chester shivered, trying to remember what he was going to say. What were they discussing? Orley’s hands were drifting perilously close to his groin and Chester’s mouth grew dry. He licked his lips and closed his eyes as Orley nuzzled his hairline.

  “Oh heavens above,” he gasped.

  Orley chuckled. “That is the most intriguing start to our deal, Lady Chester, but I am afraid that I still do not understand what you would ask me to do.”

  “Oh! Yes.” Chester cleared his throat. “Yes. Um.” He sat up and pushed away Orley’s hands. “I am sorry, Your Grace. I find you most distracting.” He smoothed the tendrils of his hair, which had escaped his chignon and turned to face Orley. “The terms of our deal are this. If by tomorrow my turnting has not ceased its infernal hold upon my being, then I will come to you in the library before you leave to take a sip. However, if it has ended, then I will meet you there to be assured of your partaking of the brew.”

  Orley grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “You have a deal, my lady.” Chester held out his hand. “Shall we shake hands upon it, then, my lord? I know that I am not a gentleman, so we cannot make a gentlemen’s agreement, but I feel as though we really ought to acknowledge our arrangement.”

  Orley leaned forward, pressing Chester against the back of the bench. “Between you and I, my lady, promises such as these can only be sealed with a kiss.”

  Chester laughed as he wrapped his arms around Orley’s neck, opening his mouth to accept the duke’s tongue within it. He shoved away thoughts of the duke’s departure on the next morn and focused instead on the feel of the hard body pressed against his own. He would see the duke off tomorrow with a smile, no words spoken between them of relationships or feelings. They did not need them; all was said with this one kiss, with these stolen moments. And once the duke’s carriage pulled away from Southerby Manor the next day, Chester would sequester himself in his room and cry for the heart he allowed to be broken by the man he was never supposed to be involved with in the first place.

  Chester had hurried along the hall, slowing down whenever he came upon another maid or footman, not wanting to call attention to himself, yet with only one purpose in mind. He had to get to the library. He had awoken that morning to find his turnting had ended. Not even the angels in Heaven themselves could have adequately sung of the joy that filled his being at the knowledge he could once again lie with Orley. For while Chester’s bum had ached to be ridden by his handsome duke once again, and his groin tightened often at the thought, he was quite certain that Orley would have need of him. In sight of the library, Chester had released a soft giggle at his absolutely scandalous behavior. But, could any fault him? Orley was due to leave his life, perhaps forever, or for however long the man would deign to leave him.

  He had let out a startled gasp, covering his mouth to hold back his sound of distress as a dark part of himself, a distressing being if ever there was one, pointed out his imminent separation from the duke. Chester longed to cry out his dismay to all and sundry, but instead he squared his shoulders and plastered a smile upon his face. Grasping Orley’s bottle of laudanum in his hand, he pushed open the door to the library.

  The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb | 63

  Curtsying deeply, Chester grinned at Orley who merely quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “My woman’s curse has ended, Your Grace; now I bring you your laudanum.” He wanted to laugh at the grimace that appeared on Orley’s face, but he was persistent and refused to budge on the matter. He had a thought to lock the door, especially when he and Orley began to speak in such familiar terms, but the selfish, possessive part of him, which had only moments before reminded him of the duke’s impending departure, now suggested that perhaps if he did not lock the door, he might have the duke to himself in a much more permanent fashion. Was that not what happened when young, unwed ladies were caught in compromising positions? Chester quickly shoved that thought away, for while Orley called him a lady, he was not, and nothing would happen were they to be caught alone without a chaperone. Except perhaps he would lose his position and his parents would be angry.

  Then Orley put his fears of their separation to rest and changed Chester’s life forever.

  Orley smiled at Chester as he lifted the glass of laudanum to his lips. The young woman had happily walked into Heathcliff’s library minutes earlier, stating with glee that his turnting had ceased, and held out Orley’s bottle of laudanum to him. Orley smacked his lips together at the cinnamon taste the brew left behind and thanked Chester for the glass of Tscotch he held up. Tossing back the glass of liquid, Orley shook out his limbs at the disgusting taste of laudanum that still lingered on his tongue. He’d only taken half the dose the doctor had prescribed, not wanting to sleep afterward, but already he could feel the effects of the opiates taking hold of the pain in his body and easing them.

  He sighed and gave Chester a wink. “I take it you are feeling much improved today, my lady?” Orley inquired.

  “Much, Your Grace.” Chester curtsied.

  Orley frowned and looked around the room. The room was empty and they were alone, so why was Chester back to treating him as if they were on such formal terms?

  “Chester?” Orley quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” Chester responded, lowering his gaze to the floor, his cheeks darkening slightly.

  “Has something happened that I should be made aware of? Something which has made our relationship return to one of duke and maid?” Orley stepped closer to Chester.

  Chester took a slight step backward and shook his head. “No, Your Grace.” He glanced up and quickly looked away. “All is as it should be. You will be leaving today, to head to your estate as you planned to do from the start, and I will be staying here as a maid to Their Graces. I see no change in our relationship.”

  Orley was quite sure that Chester did not mean for him to hear the slight catch in his voice when he spoke, but Orley did and it broke his heart. Orley sighed, shaking his head. He reached out, quickly grabbing Chester’s arms, his cane clattering to the floor at their feet. He brought Chester flush up against his chest and looked down into his upturned face.

  “Oh Chester. You foolish woman. I thought you knew by now. I had no plans to let you go. From the moment my lips touched yours I was lost. I mean to make you mine. When I leave this place, I have every intention of taking you with me,” Orley stated emphatically.

  Chester’s eyes widened. “Oh! Orley, I did not realize you had spoken to His Grace about my working for….”

  Orley shook Chester slightly. “No, you daft chit. I do not want you cleaning for me. Scrubbing silver and removing sheets from mattresses. You will not be a housemaid or a lady’s maid. I told
you from the first that when I look at you I see a lady. That has not changed because I have had my cock up your arse.”

  Chester’s cheeks flushed at Orley’s crude words, and Orley could have kicked himself for being so crass.

  “Forgive my harsh words, my dear, but I must make you see the truth of my words.” He lifted a hand and cupped Chester’s cheek. “I would have you with me as my duchess. I would have you leave this

  place as my affianced. I would have us wed, posthaste.”

  Chester’s mouth fell open and Orley placed a kiss upon them. “Orley, you cannot mean to….”

  Orley nodded. “Yes, my dear. I do mean to,” he disagreed quickly. “I have every intention of making you the Duchess of Whitcomb.”

  With that knowledge, Chester’s twaddle over the matter was quite beyond the pale. Perhaps it was Orley’s declaration that he wanted to marry Chester that completely removed all thought of locking the door from his mind. But whatever it was, Chester’s mind was clouded with lust, and he pressed his lips to Orley’s, this time making the first advance. He moaned as one of Orley’s hands grabbed hold of the back of his hair, and the other went to his bum, the warmth of Orley’s touch heating Chester’s body through his maid’s uniform. So hungry was he for Orley’s member to plunder its way inside his body, Chester did not protest when Orley spun him around, threw the skirt of his uniform up around his waist, and yanked down his drawers. Chester hissed as Orley stretched his rear entrance quickly, using his own saliva to coat his cock, before he pressed his way deep into Chester’s hole.

  When the doors swung open and he heard his mother yell out his name, Orley had already come inside of Chester’s channel once but was still ramming his shaft in and out of Chester’s puckered muscle. It took long moments before Chester registered his mother’s shout, and when he did, he could only turn his head to look at her, his hands clutching the arms of the armchair, chanting Orley’s name in passion, as he tried to focus on what was taking place. Once he had, he froze and clutched Orley’s arm, which was wrapped tightly around his waist, and whispered the duke’s name.

  While Orley was buried deeply inside him.

  “Orley?” the Duke of Pompinshire said in shock from the doorway, his large frame still unable to shield the rest of those with him from seeing what had been taking place. “I never—Chester? But—”

  Chester winced when Orley pulled out of him quickly and rushed to straighten his own clothes as Orley did the same. Chester was aware of pounding footsteps from outside the room, and a lump rose to his throat even as he tried to quickly pull his thick mass of hair back into its chignon. Please, please don’t let that be Maldy. Please, God. Don’t let that be her.

  “Chester!” his maldy, Imogen, yelled out as she stepped into the doorway.

  Orley moved in front of him, and Chester’s hair fell around his face, which burned hotly in embarrassment. He reached up to clutch tightly on to the back of Orley’s shirt with one hand as he continued to try to adjust his uniform with the other. Chester could not bear to look at either of his parents—Wilhelmina and Imogen both no doubt in attendance to see off the guests who were leaving that day—knowing the shame he had caused them. Why had he allowed himself to be swept away by passion? By the thought of having to bid farewell to the duke? He could have given Orley a kiss and turned away. It would have been painful, yes, but it would have spared his parents this moment.

  Chester peeked over Orley’s shoulder and saw his maldy’s face; it was bright red with anger, her arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders as they stared at him in horror and disappointment. No. Not disappointment. Not horror.

  Pity.

  They were looking at him with pity. Bile rose up in his throat, and Chester blinked away tears. He turned away from the sadness for him that he could see reflecting in his parents’ gazes. They thought he was Orley’s mistress, a doxy, merely used for a tryst for the week to be cast aside once the duke left. Chester looked up at the back of Orley’s head, the blond hair glowing like a halo from the sunshine spilling in from the Tfrench windows. Chester was tempted to reach up and touch it, but fear kept him frozen. That and shame.

  “Pompinshire, I apologize for any stain I have brought to your home and disrespect I have shown you with my actions, but I am afraid my heart was lost when I met Chester,” Orley said, as he looked over his shoulder and smiled at Chester. Chester felt his heart swell at the action, and any fear he felt was swept away at the obvious pride and affection that Orley felt for him.

  Chester pulled his shoulders back slightly, and he grinned at Orley, who turned once again to the Duke of Pompinshire and straightened his

  own shoulders as well. Orley faced Chester’s parents and cleared his throat. Though Chester was almost certain time did not slow down and that there were others chattering and moving about, for him movement ceased and all went silent as Orley addressed his parents.

  “Imogen and Wilhelmina, I am asking for Chester’s hand in marriage. I would like to make Chester the Duchess of Whitcomb.” Orley’s voice was so calm and so sure, as it had been when he’d uttered those words to Chester only moments before.

  “A servant? You want to make a servant the Duchess of Whitcomb?” Lady Exeter asked. Chester turned his head and saw her standing in the doorway. She stood staring at him with disgust. Her nose was scrunched as if she were walking past refuse, and Chester wanted to shrink from her judgmental gaze. He stopped when he felt Orley’s hand reach back and grab on to his elbow to hold him still.

  “Yes, as soon as possible. With or without your permission, Imogen and Wilhelmina, Chester and I are going to Gretna Green to elope,” Orley stated.

  Chester held his breath as he waited for his parents’ reaction. He knew his mother would be there. She always supported him, but his maldy…. No, his maldy would probably not attend.

  “No!” Wilhelmina’s voice was loud. “I will not go and watch as our baby’s life is ruined.”

  Chester stepped out from behind Orley just as Wilhelmina stormed off. He turned to look up at Orley in confusion, hurt ripping through him worse than any turnting he’d ever experienced. Imogen shook her head and stared after Wilhelmina. She turned to look back at Chester.

  “We will be there, Your Grace.” With that, she turned and walked out.

  “It seems that our party is ending at Gretna Green, Your Grace,” Lady Lucien said with a smile directed toward Chester and Orley.

  “It does seem that way, my dear,” the Duke of Pompinshire murmured. He turned to Orley. “Whitcomb. I would like to have a word if I may?”

  “Of course,” Orley nodded. “In your study in an hour? I would like to change.” He gestured. Chester covered his mouth and tried not to giggle, though he wasn’t sure if his amusement was from hilarity or hysteria.

  “I find that perfectly agreeable.” The Duke of Pompinshire turned to look at Chester and smiled softly at him. Chester was taken aback by the gesture. He had never considered the Duke of Pompinshire to be a scary man. On the contrary, he was a very kind, generous employer, and he doted on both his spouse and his new daughter, Eshe. And Chester had more than once come upon the duke with his head on Lady Lucien’s belly speaking softly to his unborn babe. Chester had always backed out of the room quickly, wanting to give the new family their time alone, but it had always struck him as odd that so many people had called the duke, well… “The Duke” as if he were somehow something to be feared. The scar on the man’s face could startle a person if they were not initially expecting it, but Chester’s mother came from Tafrica where scars were signs of honor. The marks of a warrior. They made a man distinguished.

  Sexy.

  Which was why Chester had never shied away from Orley’s scars on his thighs and had in fact massaged them. Because that was what one did for a warrior. They took care of them. They honored them.

  But, even so, to see the soft smile on the Duke of Pompinshire’s face directed toward him, even when he’d never thought of the man as a
scary monster, was… frightening.

  “And Chester? Since you are to be wed to my dear friend, Whitcomb. I think perhaps you should wear something a bit more fitting of the fiancé of the Duke of Whitcomb.”

  Chester looked down at his maid’s uniform and dread filled him. He thought of his savings and began to do a count in his head. He gasped when he felt hands on his cheeks and opened eyes he didn’t even realized he’d closed. He found himself looking into the blue eyes of his… affianced, who smiled at him gently.

  “Go to the modiste shoppe, there should be something there already made that you could wear. Something another lady was unable to pay for or unable to fit into. I will give you a letter with my card and seal and have them charge it to me. You will be fitted for an entire trousseau while you are there and have it delivered to Wilts. Meanwhile, whatever the modiste has that is your size there, you will be able to take now.”

  Chester started to protest but was stopped by Orley’s hand upon his mouth. “Do not argue with me about this, my future husband. You will find that I can be quite obstinate. Now. Perhaps, I can persuade some of the ladies to take you to the shoppes?”

  Chester wanted to sink into the floor. Orley was trying to force the other ladies to be friends with him now? These women whom Chester had, as recently as an hour ago, been serving. Orley was now asking them to take him shopping for what? Dresses, shoes, and other frippery? Had the man gone daft?

  “Your Grace, it would be my pleasure to take Chester shopping,” Lady Lucien said with a smile. He stepped forward and took Chester’s arm. Chester expected to receive a stern look, but instead, Lady Lucien locked their arms together and turned them toward the hall.