The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

  at Orley when the man chuckled. “Do you know him?”

  “Of course I do. Everyone does. He is a beautiful bastard, and all of the women fall for him. That is Captain Jack. I hope Lady Saville does not fancy himself falling for the rogue, for he will find himself with a broken heart very soon.”

  “Why?” Chester asked.

  Orley shook his head. “I know not. I believe he lost a lover and never recovered.”

  “How sad.” Chester turned back and watched the captain dance for another moment before allowing his eyes to return to Orley. “Would you behave the same, Your Grace?”

  “Hhmm?” Orley raised his eyebrows.

  “If you were to lose a lover… would you never recover?”

  Chester’s heart pounded as he awaited Orley’s response. Why was he asking Orley such a question? And in such a setting? Chester shook his head and smiled at Orley.

  “Forget I asked, Whitcomb.” He smiled. “I am afraid my anxiousness over the success of the ball has caused me to take leave of my senses. Please excuse me. I am going to the retiring room for just a moment.”

  With that, Chester beat a hasty retreat. His eyes filled with unshed tears, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he had asked the question, because Orley had not answered it, or because Orley had not prevented him from leaving.

  The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb | 195

  “You are a fool, you know?”

  Orley groaned and turned around to find Yarborough leaning against the doorway leading to the gardens. Grabbing a glass of champagne, Orley quickly swallowed the pale liquid before exchanging the empty glass for another full one from the passing footman. He waved the servant away and squeezed the handle of his cane tightly as he exhaled. Jerking his head, he indicated for Yarborough to follow him and made his way outside.

  Orley didn’t speak for long moments, nodding to the couples walking around in the gardens. He knew that Chester would love the gardens here at Coventry Estates. It’s the reason he’d chosen for them to spend the little bit of the Season they would have here before they would have to return to Whitcomb Hall for the birth of their child.

  If you make so many decisions based on what would make him happy, why couldn’t you have told him you would be devastated if you lost him?

  “Shall we walk until we leave your grounds, Whitcomb, or do you plan to talk to me?” Yarborough asked.

  Orley sighed. “I am at my wit’s end.”

  “Finally.”

  Orley turned to glare at his friend and then groaned. He collapsed on the nearest bench and drank the champagne he still held in his hand.

  “Would you not like something stronger?” Yarborough pulled out a flask from his inner pocket. Orley accepted it gratefully and sipped from the open canister. He winced and coughed at the potent concoction.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Yarborough laughed. “It is something Lord Oakley brought back from Tamerica when he went to visit his family. It’s called corn whiskey.”

  Orley shook his head. “Those colonists do have the strangest names for things, do they not?”

  “Indeed. Now. We did not come out here to discuss Tamericans and spirits. We came to talk about you and the Lady Chester and what a fool you are. Why did you not tell him that losing him would be as if losing a part of your soul? That, while it appeared as if Captain Jack was able to still attend balls and dance and smile as if his life still continued, you would cease to be if you ever lost him?”

  Orley stared at Yarborough in surprise. He shook his head. “What has happened to you and Pompinshire? Has the Bard inhabited your souls as I slept?”

  Yarborough blushed. “Not I—Pompinshire, perhaps. You were never one for flowery words, Orley, this is true, but Lady Chester does not seem as if he needs such things. But he does need you to speak from your heart. Tell him how you feel. You must, or you will lose him and regret it forever.”

  Orley nodded. Had not Stephen told him the same?

  “I am well aware, Yarborough, and yet I am afraid.”

  “Of what exactly?”

  Orley exhaled. “What if I do not know how to love him properly?”

  Yarborough laughed, and Orley turned to glare at him. Yarborough held up his hands. “Whitcomb, I do not laugh at you because you are foolish, but because your words are. What do you think you have been doing? For all of your missteps, you have been loving him. Now put words to action and tell him.”

  Yarborough patted Orley on the shoulder and walked back toward the house. Orley sighed again. This was the second time he had been told to tell Chester what was in his heart. It seemed everyone believed he was in love with the young woman, but if Orley was uncertain of the emotion, should he really confess to feeling it? He would not be dishonest, even if the idea of not saying the words felt like the biggest lie of them all.

  “Would you like to go for a ride with me today, Angel?” Orley asked.

  Chester trembled as he looked up at Orley. “Are you certain?” he asked.

  Orley nodded. “Yes, we will ride around our own property. The grounds are big enough, and I will be with you. We will not go too quickly, and I will give you the gentlest horse in the stable.”

  Chester exhaled and nodded. He would do this for Orley. He had promised himself that he would overcome his fear of horses, not only for Orley but for their child. Besides, it would be nice to escape from the tedium of linens and correspondence. Since the ball the night before, there were an overwhelming number of cards and invitations to dinners and balls. Chester was sorely tempted to say no to them all. He had no desire to endure another evening with any of the members of the ton who had attended the ball… no, that was not completely accurate. There were a few he found surprisingly refreshing. Perhaps he should find their calling cards and pay them a visit.

  “Chester? Are you quite well?” Orley’s voice penetrated the haze that surrounded Chester’s mind, and Chester blinked up at his husband.

  “Oh yes, Orley. I am well. Apologies for not attending you. I will be right with you. I am just thinking of which invitations to accept.” Chester gestured to the stack on the desk before him.

  Orley glanced down and shook his head. He scowled.

  “Can we not reject them all?” Orley asked.

  Chester laughed. “I am afraid not, Your Grace. It would be the very height of impropriety. Besides, we would look completely ungrateful and snobbish if we asked the whole of Tlondon to attend us at our home

  but were too self-important to visit them in theirs.”

  Orley leaned over the desk and sifted through the correspondence. Chester watched his husband with an amused expression for a moment as the duke made quick work of the large stack. Within a few minutes there were three piles.

  “The one on the left are those whose homes I will never set foot in no matter how much they insist and beg, so you must send them a kind but firm note of refusal. The ones in the center are those I may be able to tolerate but only for short intervals. If we are to go to their homes, it must only be for balls, musicales, or visits, never meals, for I am quite certain I would lose my mind before the pheasant was served. And the last pile are those I would gladly visit for whatever social occasion they should suggest.”

  Chester’s attention moved to the pile on the right and saw only five cards in the pile. He smirked and could probably guess whose names were in the stack without even having to look.

  “I shall be sure to send out the responses when we return from our ride, Your Grace,” he promised.

  Orley nodded, then smiled. “Now, may I escort you upstairs so you can change into your riding habit?”

  Chester smirked at the desire darkening Orley’s eyes, and he shook his head.

  “No, thank you, Your Grace. I am perfectly capable of taking care of my attire with the assistance of my maid, but I appreciate your concern,” he said, pushing back his chair. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk. He let his fingers trail along the edge
of the wood. He wanted to laugh when Orley’s gaze followed the motion.

  It had been a few days since he and Orley had lain together. With the move and Chester’s focus and determination to have a successful ball for the start of the Season, there had not been time for the more intimate side of their relationship. Chester would have to make sure he rectified that situation that evening.

  But first, he had to get dressed to go riding.

  “She is a very gentle mare, Your Grace. We usually put all of the first time or shy riders on Harmony here. She’s great with them. Been doing it for a long time and knows exactly what to do,” the head groom, Edyth, said.

  Chester nodded and smiled at Orley before allowing Edyth to assist him up onto the sidesaddle.

  Settling himself on the seat, Chester closed his eyes, then looked down at the ground below him. Everything swirled for a moment, and Chester was afraid he would fall to his death. Swallowing the bile that rose to his throat, he stared at Edyth, a plea for assistance on his lips.

  “Fret not, Your Grace. Harmony can sense your unease. She would do naught to hurt you. I know the ground feels far away, but truly it is not. And His Grace will be with you. ’Sides”—Edyth shrugged—“there isn’t anything that would spook Harmony. She is as stoic as the King’s guard, she is.”

  Chester nodded and turned to look at Orley, who was mounting Gideon, his Tarabian stallion. Though Orley insisted the horse was tame, not the mean hellion everyone, even the head grooms of every single one of his properties, maintained that he was, Chester agreed with them. Chester had more than once felt the evil gaze of the animal on him, and it had sent an icy shiver running straight through his entire body. Orley had contended he was imagining things, but Chester knew what he felt. Gideon loved and respected only one human, and that was Orley Garrick. Chester was quite sure Gideon would trample him to save Orley’s life if it ever came down to it.

  As Orley rode up to him, Chester could not help but admire his husband’s form atop the magnificent horse, because the beast was gorgeous, all things considered. Chester might be afraid of horses, but he still admired them and could appreciate a fine piece of horseflesh just like all other Anglishmen and women.

  “Are you ready to ride, Angel?” Orley asked.

  Chester tightened his hands on Harmony’s reins and nodded. “Yes, I am, Whitcomb.”

  Orley’s eyebrows lowered in concern. “Are you quite sure? We do not have to ride if you do not truly want to, my dear.”

  Chester shook his head. “N-no. I want to do this. Can we just go s-slow, Whitcomb?”

  “Of course,” Orley nodded.

  Remembering the lesson Edyth had given him, Chester took the reins in hand and pressed the heel of his left booted foot against Harmony’s side. His hands held the reins in a firm grip, with just enough slack so Harmony did not think he was calling her to a halt, but not so much she thought they were taking a rest. He turned her head to follow Gideon, and to his amazement, the mare seemed to follow the stallion without too much prompting.

  They started out across the grounds at a walk before Chester wanted to go a little faster. When next Orley turned to smile at him, Chester pulled Harmony to a halt, knowing that Orley would stop as well.

  “Is there a problem, my dear?” Orley asked him.

  Chester shook his head with a grin. “No, Orley,” he reassured him quickly. “There is naught the matter. I just wondered if we could perhaps set the horses on a quicker pace?”

  Orley chuckled. “Yes, of course we can. But you must not overtax yourself. We have the babe to think of.”

  Chester dropped a hand to his stomach and rubbed a hand lovingly over his bump as he often did when he thought of the new life growing inside of him. It was something he did often these days.

  “To be sure, Orley, I will be ever conscious of the child,” Chester said of the babe. “But I feel free, and I want to enjoy it.”

  Orley nodded. “Then, yes. We will go faster.”

  A thrill of excitement shot through Chester’s stomach and he squirmed on the saddle. He had not only overcome his fear of being around horses and being atop one, he was actually going to ride one, rather than the walking they had been doing. Orley set a jogging pace, and Chester listened to his lover’s instructions and let out a small laugh when Harmony’s hooves quickened along the grass. Chester’s eyes slid closed for only a brief moment as he delighted in the breeze blowing through the tendrils of his curls, caressing his flushed cheeks.

  You did this. You can do even more. Ride even faster one day. Like Lady Lucien. You will one day be a proper duchess. You will no longer be frightened by these animals. No longer tremble when you walk into the stables and have to be reassured like you are a frightened child. Perhaps that is why Orley has not yet declared himself to you. He forgets that you are a woman he can love whenever he sees you around horses. You have to show him that you are strong and without fear. That you can handle whatever comes your way. That you can stand by his side. That you belong there and no one else will do. Then he will say that he loves you, and you can finally tell him that you do as well.

  “Love?”

  Chester jerked out of his musings, afraid he had spoken his thoughts aloud at the sound of Orley’s voice and looked over at his husband.

  “What?” he croaked out.

  “Shall we rest for a moment?” Orley asked with a soft smile.

  “Oh.” Chester sighed in relief. He swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes. Let’s.” He pulled the reins taut, his gut clenching, and bit his lip until Harmony came to a stop. Thank God. Edyth was correct; the horse was extremely smart. Harmony seemed incredibly attuned to everything going on, and when Chester looked around, he realized they were still in shouting distance of the stables, though not in view.

  Orley dismounted first, using his cane and a tree stump that they’d come to a stop next to. Chester smiled down at his husband as Orley walked toward him. Already anxious to be out of the saddle, he looked up when he saw some of the grooms leading a number of the horses inside.

  “What are the grooms doing?” Chester asked.

  Orley glanced over, his hand resting on Harmony’s shoulder. “They are taking them in to feed them.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than Harmony turned and took off, running for the stables. Chester’s heart raced, and he screamed Orley’s name. What was it with him and horses? Was he cursed when it came to these infernal beasts? The sound of thunder came from behind him, and Chester turned to look. He gasped at the sight of Orley racing up on Gideon, bent low over Gideon’s back, a hardened look of determination on his face.

  Chester watched as Orley rode up beside him on his left side and held out his hand. Chester shook his head.

  “What in bloody hell are you doing?” Chester yelled.

  “Let go of the reins and grab my hand!” Orley growled.

  “Have you lost mind?” Chester screamed.

  Orley narrowed his eyes. “Now!”

  Without thought, Chester did as Orley demanded, releasing the reins, kicking his feet out of the stirrups, and reaching out with both hands for Orley’s outstretched one. Orley quickly wrapped his own reins loosely around the pommel once, lifted Chester up from Harmony’s saddle by his waist, and deposited him in front of him on his own saddle, placing him on the pommel. He pulled on the leather reins and brought Gideon to a halt, turning the horse away from the stables.

  Chester pressed his face against Orley’s chest, feeling strange riding astride a horse.

  It wasn’t until he heard Orley making shushing sounds in his ear that Chester realized he was shaking. Orley’s hand smoothing up and down the back of his hunter green riding habit was soothing, and Chester settled into Orley’s embrace, exhaling deeply.

  “I feared I would lose you. Do you not know how shattered I would be, my Angel, were you not in my life? How broken my world would become? I would never recover,” Orley said softly into Chester’s ear. “There is no way I would be a
ble to go on. For me there would be no dancing at balls years from now. Losing myself in the bodies of scores of women as I tried to remove my mind, my heart, my nostrils, my soul, indeed my very spirit of the memory of your face, your touch, your body, your scent, the feel of your body against mine, your laugh, the sound of

  your voice…. There is no me without you.”

  Chester reached up to take hold of Orley’s hand and pressed it against his chest. This was it. The moment when his husband would tell him that he loved him. Chester’s eyes burned with tears as did Orley’s, and a lump rose to his throat.

  “You are mine and I cannot—I will not—lose you,” Orley promised him, and Chester shivered as Orley’s lips pressed against the side of his neck. When Orley didn’t continue speaking, instead kissed the skin right behind his ear, Chester felt a flash of contentment. Though Orley had not said those three words Chester was still unbelievably happy by what had been stated. Desire soon replaced all other thoughts as Orley’s hands began to caress him. No longer soothing and comforting Chester after his harrowing ordeal, Orley’s hands were inciting Chester to lust and passion.

  “Orley,” Chester moaned.

  “Sssh, love. Allow me this moment, this opportunity,” Orley whispered.

  Chester nodded. “But how?” he asked.

  Orley chuckled and yet did not respond, at least not verbally. Instead, he lifted Chester and helped him turn around until Chester was facing away from him. Orley’s hands continued down to Chester’s skirts and petticoats, bunching the back of them up around his waist. Chester shivered at the touch of Orley’s fingers upon his skin. Orley’s rough fingertips abraded his flesh as he pulled Chester’s drawers down.

  Chester let out a breathless sigh of Orley’s name as Orley trailed a fingernail from the entrance of his hole up to the base of his length, having pushed Chester forward over the horse’s neck. Chester did not often think of his male genitalia when he was intimate with Orley. It was not that he didn’t receive pleasure from having it stroked or touched or even sucked. He did; every male did. And while all males had a pair of bollocks, male women only released spend when experiencing their orgasm, whereas male men and female men released seed in order to procreate. When female men went to penetrate their lovers, their clitoris didn’t just extend, but expanded as well.