The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

  “Your Grace? It seems as if I am not attired properly,” Chester said.

  “What would make you say such a thing?” Orley asked.

  Chester gestured to the women around him. “The ladies all seem to have long, fur-lined capes, and I do not.”

  Orley glanced around and cursed beneath his breath. Perhaps they were not looking at Chester because he was beautiful, but because he had committed some social faux pas. Gritting his teeth, Orley lifted his head.

  “Pretend as if you do not care, my dear,” he said softly.

  “I’m sorry?” Chester asked.

  Orley smiled at Chester as they continued walking. “One of the rules of being a duchess is that when you make a mistake, you never acknowledge it. You merely act as if it were your intention all along. So tilt your head up and walk as if everyone around you is beneath you, and if anyone mentions the cape, mention that you do not see the need to wear extra layers of clothing simply to keep up with tradition, or some such nonsense.”

  They stepped through the doors, and Orley allowed the waiting footman to take his greatcoat. He looked around the room and noticed everyone within the lobby watching them, whispering. Here goes nothing.

  Chester touched his forearm, and Orley looked at him. “But Orley, I am not better than these people. Why would you want me to act as if I am? Is that what you think you are?”

  Orley frowned. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t have married you if

  I thought that.”

  Chester nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “Truly, Chester. It is just how things are handled in society. It is the way in which one must present themselves.”

  Chester sighed. “Lady Kent said much the same to me. It is not something I find the least bit comfortable. I used to serve people such as these. How am I supposed to act as if I am their equal, much less their better?”

  Orley stepped close to Chester and lifted his husband’s chin. Staring down into the precious face of the woman who had so captured his soul, Orley felt his heart clench once again and wondered at the emotion that coursed through him. It was something he would have to inquire of Pompinshire. He had never experienced the like. It was not a wholly unpleasant sensation, but it was most assuredly uncomfortable.

  “You are their better because you find the situation detestable. They do not. You remember the names of those who serve you. You were once belowstairs and now you sit at the table and are served, but you do not forget where you came from. That is why you are equal. That is why you can look them in the eye, and that is why you can lift your nose in the air and act with the haughty air of a duchess.” Orley sighed. “I know it will be difficult. I hate it as well. But it must be done, Angel.”

  Chester nodded. “I feel as if I am losing myself in this world, Whitcomb.” He looked around. “What if I fade away?” he asked softly.

  Orley took Chester’s hand and placed it on his inner elbow. “I will not let you.”

  Chester smiled and seemed to accept Orley’s words at face value. They stepped forward into the fray that awaited them. Orley never left Chester’s side, and he was proud of the way Chester handled himself. Though Chester was obviously nervous, he was polite to everyone he was introduced to. When one Tfrenchwoman commented on his missing cape, Chester remarked that he didn’t see the need to cover up his beautiful gown just to reveal it later, even if it were tradition. Orley could have easily kissed Chester in that moment, but he refrained, though he did nod in agreement with all of the other Anglish gentlemen who were present.

  They soon went in to enjoy the play, and Orley leaned over to whisper into Chester’s ear. “Well done, my dear.”

  Chester shook his head. “If this is what it takes to be a duchess, I fear my mother may have been correct.” He placed a hand to his stomach and looked away.

  Those words sat like a lead weight in Orley’s gut throughout the performance and the long drive back to their rooms.

  Chester regretted his words to Orley, but he was unsure exactly how to say he was sorry. He glanced over at Orley, who had been silent for hours, and sighed. Orley’s face did not exactly welcome conversation, and having never been in a relationship before, Chester wasn’t aware of the exact protocol for starting an apology to a spouse. Surely it was different than apologizing to a member of his family. As they reached their rooms, Orley stopped and kissed the backs of Chester’s fingers.

  “I had a lovely evening, Lady Chester.” Orley wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Chester’s heart broke. “I shall see you in the morning.”

  Orley returned to his room and entered without a backward glance.

  Had Chester done irreparable damage to his marriage with his doubts and fears? The door in front of him opened, and Chester turned to find Missy standing there. He blinked, his eyes dry and scratchy, a lump forming in his throat.

  “Yer Grace? Are you quite all right?” Chester nodded.

  “Well, do ye plan on standin’ in the hallway all bloomin’ night and sleepin’ up against the wall, or do ya want to come inside?”

  Chester gave Missy a shaky smile and felt his eyes burn before his eyesight blurred and wetness spilled down his cheeks. Missy let out a gasp and reached out to grab his arm.

  “Oh Yer Grace! What happened? Did those graceless cows insult ye? I would think His Grace would put them in their place.” Missy sounded indignant, and Chester wanted to laugh, but his heart felt ripped to pieces. Torn and shattered. Strings of it flapped in the wind, and Chester was uncertain what to do with the remains.

  He shook his head. “N-no. That’s not w-why I-I’m c-crying,” he told her.

  “Then what’s the matter?” Missy asked as she helped him clean his face. She removed his necklace and bracelet, but when she went to remove his rings, he whimpered. She raised her hands and left them on, and started to let down his hair. Chester sighed as his thick tresses fell down his back.

  “His Grace and I… we h-had…. We m-may….” Chester shook his head. He couldn’t say it. He sat on the bed and let Missy remove his shoes, wiggling his toes with another sigh at their freedom from the confining material.

  He stood, and Missy began the arduous process of removing him from the dress and corset. Chester let out a loud groan of pleasure and relief when the material fell away, and Missy giggled. He ran his hands over his sides trying to return sensation to his skin. Missy untied the petticoat, and Chester stepped out of it and pulled off the sweaty chemise he wore, exchanging it for the silky, light blue nightshift Missy had laid on the bed. He stopped and looked at the water basin, wondering if he should wash up first.

  “Missy?” he said.

  “Yes, Yer Grace?” she responded, putting his clothes away in the armoire.

  “Can you order up a bath?” he asked.

  Missy nodded. “Certainly, Yer Grace.”

  “Thank you.” Chester grabbed his dressing gown, pulled it on, and sat on the chaise lounge. He thanked Missy for the tea she handed him and sipped the hot brew gingerly as he tried not to think about the events of that evening.

  He glanced over at the door leading to Orley’s room and felt sadness fill him. Since their marriage, he and Orley had never slept apart. This would be Chester’s first night sleeping alone as a married woman. He sighed as he drank from the teacup once more before setting it aside. Crossing his legs, he lifted his thumbnail to his lips and nibbled on the side. It was an old habit he’d had as a child, and he hadn’t done it in years. It was something he only did in times of extreme nervousness and stress. He would say this was one of those moments.

  “Yer Grace, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Chester looked up into Missy’s eyes and gave her a small smile.

  “It’s nothing, Missy. I just think I may have upset His Grace, is all.”

  Missy hummed. “Well, then, all you can do is apologize.”

  Chester chuckled. “I’m not exactly sure where to start, Missy.”

  Missy tilted her head. “My Pa always sa
id you start with saying I’m sorry. Seems pretty simple to me, Yer Grace.”

  There was a knock on the door then, which prevented any further conversation, but Chester mulled over Missy’s words as he watched the footmen and maids fill the bath with hot water and rose and gardenia petals. The fragrant aroma filled the room, and Chester instantly felt calmer.

  “Would you like me to help you wash, Yer Grace?” Missy asked.

  Chester shook his head. “No, thank you, Missy. I think I would like some time alone.”

  Missy curtsied. “Very well, Yer Grace. I’ll just be in the next room.

  Let me know when you’re ready for bed.”

  Chester nodded. “I will.”

  He waited until Missy had left the room before he pulled off his dressing gown and laid it over the end of the bed. After pushing down his drawers, Chester stepped over to the tub and sank down into the steaming water. He hissed slightly as it engulfed his limbs.

  Chester laid his head back against the towel Missy had left for him, closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to drift to his husband. As it often did, his cock grew hard at the mere thought of the man. Thick, tanned muscles glistening with sweat and straining above him caused Chester to smile as he lay in the water. He saw Orley’s blue eyes twinkling with affection and laughter as they talked, darkening with lust as they made love. Chester’s nipples hardened as he felt Orley’s large hand caress down his chest, plucking at one nipple, then the other.

  Chester let out a shuddering breath, Orley’s name on his lips. He tilted his head back as Orley’s lips drifted down his neck. It felt so real, Chester could have sworn he felt Orley’s teeth in his skin. He knew it couldn’t be, however, because Orley had gone to his room, leaving him all alone in the hallway.

  Tears threatened to fall, but Chester squeezed his eyes tighter and refused to think unhappy thoughts. Not while he had his fantasy Orley with him. The one who was rolling Chester’s nipple in between his fingers, licking and nibbling on the side of his neck, and stroking Chester’s cock.

  Chester gasped out Orley’s name and heard fantasy Orley shush him as he released Chester’s cock and moved his hand down between Chester’s legs to his tight pucker. Chester laid his head back on Orley’s shoulder, wishing with all his heart that it was his Orley, especially when fantasy Orley called him “my love, my Angel,” but he would take what he could get.

  The press of his dream Orley’s finger inside his body was so real, the burn so jarring, that Chester was tempted to open his eyes. But he didn’t want to lose this moment. He didn’t want it all to go away. He simply must have pushed his finger in too fast. He did not have that much experience doing such things to himself.

  “You feel so good, love.”

  How Chester wished that were really his Orley speaking. He could do aught but moan in response and when one finger became two and the fantasy Orley released his nipple and stroked him and penetrated him simultaneously, Chester knew he would not last long. Chester longed to be filled by his dream Orley. If he could not have the real thing, then he must have the one he’d conjured from his longings.

  “F-fill me, my dream Orley,” he whispered.

  The apparition chuckled. “Open your eyes, Angel. I am not a figment of your imaginings. I am really here.”

  Chester opened one eye and then the other, his gaze focused on the water, expecting to be disappointed. To see his hands buried in the water, pleasuring himself. Instead, his hands were wrapped around the sides of the bathtub, and Orley’s arms, still wrapped in the snowy white fabric of his button down shirt, were soaked in the water, his fingers bringing Chester to the heights of pleasure.

  Chester’s head fell back on a startled gasp and he found himself staring up into the pleased expression of his husband, his white cravat hanging open around his neck, the ends wet as they dipped into the water.

  “O-Orley? It’s r-really you?” Chester asked. He moaned as Orley thrust his fingers in deeper.

  “Of course, darling. I was a fool to leave you. I never will again.” Orley shook his head. “I fell for you because of how you made me feel. You were unlike any other woman I had ever met, and now I am trying

  to turn you into one of them. For that I am sorry.”

  Chester smiled and gasped as Orley twisted his fingers, pegging the spot deep within Chester’s body that brought him such pleasure. “Y-you are forgiven.”

  Orley inclined his head. “We shall discuss such things later. For now. I need to make love to you. Would you let me?”

  Chester bobbed his head quickly. “Always.”

  Orley took Chester’s lips in a bruising kiss. He lifted his head and slowly pulled his fingers free of Chester’s body and released Chester’s shaft, then he stood to his full height and walked to the side of the tub to disrobe. As Orley unbuttoned his trousers, Chester grew impatient, and grabbed the front of Orley’s shirt, pulling apart the two panels holding it together, ripping it. Buttons flew across the room and Chester and Orley both gasped.

  Orley laughed. “Are you eager for me, Angel?”

  Chester blushed and shrugged shyly. “I am afraid I was not aware of the depth of my own strength, Your Grace.”

  Orley caressed his cheek. “I find that it enflames my passions even more to know that I affect you thusly.”

  “Truly?”

  Orley gestured toward his groin, and Chester glanced down; Orley’s erection was protruding from his smalls. Chester licked his lips, helped Orley pull down his bottoms, noting that Orley was barefoot, and reached out his hand to stroke the thick flesh of Orley’s shaft. He stuck out his tongue to lick the pearlescent liquid that formed at the tip, moaning at its flavor, and glanced up when he heard Orley growl.

  “I must have you now,” Orley said. “I cannot wait.”

  Orley swung Chester up into his arms, water spilling down upon the floor, and Chester let out a happy squeak as he was borne through the air, carefully, Orley walking with a decided limp. Orley laid Chester down on the bed, the sheets growing damp beneath Chester’s still wet form, before turning him onto his stomach. Chester looked over his shoulder to see what his husband was doing. He shivered as Orley kissed and licked his way down Chester’s back to his derrière. As Orley spread Chester’s cheeks apart, Chester moaned. The first swipe of Orley’s tongue caused Chester to let out a gasp, and the second, a groan. Before long he was a babbling, spluttering mess as Orley licked, nibbled, and speared Chester’s hole, loosening his already relaxed muscle to prepare Chester for penetration.

  Chester was aware of Orley moving away, then returning with his length slick with oil. He pressed the blunt head of his shaft against Chester’s entrance, and inch by agonizing inch, he filled Chester with his heat. Chester pushed out, relaxing his muscles as much as possible to welcome his husband’s erection within him. He felt so full and his eyes burned as Orley’s hips slammed against the curve of his bottom.

  Orley’s hands slid up Chester’s body, one gripping Chester’s hip, the other holding on to Chester’s hair. Orley’s hips pulled back and Chester mourned the withdrawal for only a moment before Orley thrust back in. Back and forth, in and out. Faster and faster, harder and harder, until Chester could feel his fingertips going numb and his bollocks drawing up close to his body.

  He bit his lip to hold back his cry of pleasure.

  “Don’t hold back, Angel,” Orley groaned. “Let me hear what I do to you.” He grunted. “I want to experience your pleasure.”

  Orley’s hand released Chester’s hair and reached down to grip Chester’s cock. He stroked once, twice, three times, and Chester let out a scream of passion as his spend flowed over the sheets below them. “Yes,” Orley growled, his hips jerking as he found his own release, flooding Chester’s body with his seed.

  Chester continued to twitch long after his orgasm was spent. Orley turned them onto their sides, pressing soft kisses onto Chester’s shoulders and neck. He murmured soft words into Chester’s wet hair, which he couldn’t proce
ss for long moments, but once he could, tears flowed down his cheeks.

  “Please don’t regret marrying me. I shall endeavor to do better. I know I am not the best husband or the best duke, but I shall learn, this I swear. I am not a complete failure. I promise you, Chester. I will not let you down.”

  Orley was awakened by the sound of retching. Horrible, horrendous retching. It sounded as if someone were dying in the room.

  It smelled like it as well.

  “Chester? Angel? Do you know if Missy or Ben overimbibed last night? Perhaps they went into the city with some of the other servants and indulged in spirits? You know the constitution of the Anglish is much more delicate than that of the Tfrench,” he mumbled.

  When he didn’t receive a response, he frowned. “Chester?” The retching continued, and the smell grew worse. He heard a concerned voice followed by a stern one and more retching. Another, deeper voice entered the conversation, and now Orley sat up in bed, looked around the room, and noticed that he was alone.

  “Chester?” he called out.

  Ben stepped into the room. His almond-colored skin complemented the black and dark green livery of the Whitcomb colors. The valet looked nervous, his hazel gaze bouncing around the room, and Orley instantly grew concerned. He looked around for his cane and noticed it on the floor where he’d tossed it the night before when he’d come in to surprise Chester as he’d bathed.

  “Ben? Where is the duchess?” he asked in a tight voice.

  “Your Grace… the Duchess of Whitcomb is currently… indisposed,” Ben responded.