The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

  Orley wanted to growl. In fact, he would have, but hadn’t he questioned his own motives for marrying Chester at some point? He knew Chester had asked him why Orley wanted them to wed. Perhaps Orley’s restraint in demonstrating his feelings publicly was a hindrance.

  Or maybe you should just tell your husband that you love him.

  Orley sighed as he looked at Ben and gripped the younger man’s shoulder. “While the duchess and I have yet to make any confessions of love, I am no William Shakespeare, nor am I a poet to laud the virtues and beauty of your younger brother, I can assure you that what I feel for him goes beyond mere affection. I married him not to cause scandal, not to slight my deceased father, but because he makes me feel as if I am not a cripple. I want to be a better man when he is around. I laugh more and feel more like myself as well. I have yet to tell him these things, but that is merely because I have yet to find my nerve to do so.” He exhaled and smiled. “But the sentiment is there.”

  Ben nodded and grinned. “If I may offer some advice, Your Grace?”

  Orley waved his hand, indicating that Ben should continue speaking.

  “Do not wait to share your heart. You have endured much pain in your life, more than most, and you know how short life can be. Be wary that you don’t wait to speak the words when they can no longer have any weight.”

  Orley inclined his head and watched as Ben turned to grab the rest of his clothing. He knew Ben was right, as were all of the other men who had spoken to him before. It was in that moment that Orley determined that as soon as the baptism was over, he would tell Chester that he loved him.

  Swallowing back the fear that rose to his throat at making such a declaration, Orley slid his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket and prepared to go downstairs by grabbing his cane. He exhaled and squared his shoulders. An image of Chester rose to his mind, and Orley smiled. He felt contentment settle on his shoulders and knew he’d made the right choice. He walked to Chester’s bedroom, knocking once before stepping within. The sight that greeted him momentarily gave him pause, and Orley had to catch his breath as he took in the appearance of his husband standing in the middle of the room wearing a light blue muslin gown, his hair swept up into loose curls and his neck bare of any adornment. While Orley was often taken breathless by the vision of his duchess, it was not merely Chester dressed in the middle of his bedchamber that left Orley so speechless. It was instead Samson lying in Chester’s arms as Chester sang softly to him that had Orley so flummoxed.

  “How am I so blessed to have been the gentleman to notice you and claim you for his own?” he asked softly.

  Chester turned his head and gave Orley a gentle smile over his shoulder. “There are many who would say it is I who has been gifted with a bounty of untold proportions by our union, Your Grace. To have ensnared your affections so completely within a week to the point you declared we would marry and then to give birth to your heir?” Chester looked back down at Samson, and Orley walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the young woman’s waist. “Perhaps I seduced you with my womanly wiles, hmm?”

  Orley chuckled and placed a gentle kiss on Chester’s shoulder. “I think, my dear, if anyone was seduced in this marriage it was you. I pursued you with the single-minded intent to make you mine.” He lifted his hand and gently smoothed his thumb across Samson’s forehead. He smiled as Samson continued to suck on Chester’s finger, his heart turning over with love for his son, this tiny, helpless being who was a perfect mixture of them both.

  “Aahh, well in that case, we are both lucky.”

  “Agreed.” Orley nodded. He stood there with Chester for a moment, neither of them speaking, barely moving as they watched Samson sleep, sucking Chester’s finger absentmindedly. The beauty of the moment washed over him, and Orley opened his mouth to tell Chester how he felt. It was the perfect time.

  A knock on the door from the hall prevented the words from tumbling forth, and Orley’s eyes closed in frustration.

  “Enter,” he called out.

  The door opened, and Orley smiled at Lady Lucien in the doorway, his figure having returned to normal after the birth of his twins. Orley stepped away from Chester and swept his body into a deep bow.

  “Your Grace,” he said with a grin. “It is wonderful to see you up and about.”

  “You gabby,” Lady Lucien said as he curtsied, his fingers holding on to the sides of his pantaloons. “Thank you for inviting us along for the baptism, Your Grace. We were quite honored.”

  Orley nodded. “How could I do any less when His Grace made me godfather to your twins?”

  Lady Lucien chuckled as he rose and walked forward. “Yes, he is a sneaky devil, my husband. Showing you respect and letting you know how much he admires you by making you godfather to our children, all so that he could secure an invitation to your own child’s baptism.” Lady Lucien shook his head, his eyes twinkling with humor. “If you would like, Your Grace, I shall make sure he makes atonement while we are with the vicar.”

  Orley let out a bark of laughter as he walked toward Lady Lucien and placed a kiss upon the young woman’s hand.

  “Pompinshire is extremely lucky that you agreed to marry him,” he said.

  Lady Lucien inclined his head. “I quite agree.”

  Orley turned back to Chester and placed a kiss—which no doubt went beyond the realm of what was considered proper and acceptable when in the presence of others—on Chester’s cheek before bowing to both young women and walking out. He headed downstairs to say hello to those who had arrived for the baptism, but also to gather his wits about him. He had been dangerously close to telling Chester that he loved him in a decidedly unromantic place and gesture. That certainly would not do. Orley had to make the moment special for Chester, just as it had been for Lady Lucien. Chester deserved nothing less.

  St. George’s Cathedral

  Southwark, Tlondon

  Chester could feel eyes on him, judging him and finding him wanting as he walked toward the front of the massive, yet beautiful church. It had been Orley’s idea to have a public baptism, rather than a private one like Chester had originally intended. When Chester had questioned the duke about it, Chester’s entire body had trembled from the force of Orley’s determined, narrow-eyed stare.

  “I’ll not have anyone thinking I am ashamed of my son, nor of you. Neither shall I hide you both away at the estate until the Season and Parliament is over, because we both know I cannot bear to have you away from me at night. Every Whitcomb heir has been baptized at St. George’s as well as every child to follow. I do not hold to many of my father’s, or really, any of his family’s rigid traditions and beliefs, but on this matter I will not budge. The baptism will be public and the whole of Tlondon society will see that not only am I thrilled to be married to you and to have had a child by you, but that I have never been happier.”

  Chester had been humbled by Orley’s words. His duke was not a man of flowery, romantic words—not like the Duke of Pompinshire— but when he did speak of emotions, feelings, beliefs, and actions, his words were no less powerful, even when they were delivered in a nononsense tone. Chester glanced now over at the man who walked beside him, head held high, cane clutched in his hand as he led Chester to the front of the cathedral. Chester had the insane urge to tilt his head up and smirk at the young ladies and their matronly mothers who had attended solely for the chance to see Chester make a blunder or to see if Orley’s affection was real, but he restrained himself….

  Barely.

  He and Orley met Lords Savoy and Galeon, and Lady Lucien at the front as they stood around the baptismal font. Chester trembled slightly as the Archbishop of York stepped out of the sacristy and walked toward them. Chester looked over to Orley with wide eyes and saw his husband’s smile.

  “Breathe, my darling. His Grace, the Right Honorable Edward Ebor, is a family friend. The archbishop has always baptized the Whitcomb babes,” Orley whispered.

  Chester wanted to glare at his husband,
but they were being watched, so instead, when the archbishop stopped in front of the font, Chester showed him respect, as did everyone else.

  Even as he planned retaliation against his husband.

  The archbishop smiled at the attendees and lifted his hands for the ceremony to begin.

  “Dearly beloved, forasmuch as all men are conceived and born in sin, and that our Savior Christ saith, ‘None can enter into the Kingdom of God, except he be regenerate and born anew of Water and of the Holy Ghost,’ I beseech you to call upon God the Father, through our Lord Jesus Christ, that of his bounteous mercy he will grant to this child that thing which by nature he cannot have; that he may be baptized with Water and the Holy Ghost, and received into Christ’s holy Church, and be made a lively member of the same.”

  Chester nibbled on his bottom lip, his eyes fastened on his son’s small face as he tried to attend the archbishop’s words. It was really quite difficult to do, as he was besieged by the urge to grab his child and run from the building, though he wasn’t sure why. The hairs on the back of Chester’s neck stood up straight, and he squirmed where he stood next to Orley, fighting the urge to look around. Someone was watching them, someone beyond the normal attendants, someone who wished his son harm in some way.

  “Let us pray,” the archbishop directed.

  Chester lowered his eyelids, though he did not close them completely as he listened to the archbishop drone on about Noah, the children of Israel, and Jesus Christ. He wondered how much of a scandal it would cause were he to yell out that there was someone with murderous intent in their heart nearby.

  But what proof do you have, you ninny? he asked himself. Becoming a fotmy has made you suspicious. Lady Kent and Lady Woodhead may have told you that you were a soldier, but you are not. Not truly. Keep still and focus. Your son is being baptized. It is a miracle he still breathes, and you are missing it all.

  After his internal admonishment, Chester realized everyone was beginning to stand.

  “Hear the words of the Gospel, written by Saint Mark, in the tenth chapter, at the thirteenth verse.”

  Heavens above, were the baptisms of the Duke of Pompinshire’s children so endless and boring?

  Chester realized the archbishop had turned to Samson’s godparents, and he gave himself a mental shake. He did not want to miss any part of this. It had been one of his most treasured moments, next to marrying Orley and giving birth to Samson, being named as the godmother of the twins of Lady Lucien and the Duke of Pompinshire.

  “Dearly beloved, ye have brought this child here to be baptized, ye have prayed that our Lord Jesus Christ would vouchsafe to receive him, to release him of his sins, to sanctify him with the Holy Ghost, to give him the kingdom of Heaven, and everlasting life. Ye have heard also that our Lord Jesus Christ hath promised in his Gospel to grant all these things that ye have prayed for: which promise he, for his part, will most surely keep and perform. Wherefore, after this promise made by Christ, this infant must also faithfully, for his part, promise by you that are his sureties, (until he come of age to take it upon himself,) that he will renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly believe God’s holy Word, and obediently keep his commandments. I demand therefore, dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that thou wilt not follow, nor be led by them?”

  “I renounce them all,” Lord Savoy, Lord Galeon, and Lady Lucien replied simultaneously.

  When Orley snorted beside him, Chester elbowed him in the stomach and glared. Orley smiled sheepishly, and Chester rolled his eyes. He had to admit, while he was sure Lady Lucien would have no problem with renouncing the “carnal desires of the flesh,” he was not so sure about Lord Galeon, and especially not Lord Savoy, who had more than once grinned rather rakishly at someone in the church, though Chester was not sure who it was. The ceremony continued with the archbishop asking the godparents to swear to a holy life and speaking more about Adam and the Bible. Chester began to wonder if this was the reason Orley’s response to religion was “We shall attend every Sunday when we are in Tlondon.” Bloody hell, were all services this long?

  “Please hand me the child,” the archbishop stated with a smile Chester’s way. Chester nodded and, with a glance down at Samson, handed over his son to the religious leader.

  The archbishop gently rocked Samson, who fussed a bit at the change of hands, before looking over at the godparents once more. He nodded at Lord Galeon.

  “Name this child,” the archbishop commanded.

  “He shall be called Samson Orley Daniel Garrick,” Lord Galeon said with a proud grin.

  The archbishop frowned, and Chester felt icy heat spread over his skin as the sanctuary filled with murmurs. He and Orley had discussed the fact that children were often named after their godparents; it was why there were so many Johns, Roberts, Stephens, and Peters running around Angland. They had discussed the matter with Samson’s godparents and Chester’s parents as well, and they all were in agreement that the name was a “fine choice.” It was just another scandal to affix to their cap, of course, but they were quite sure they would weather the storm. Chester would face any army for his son.

  The archbishop looked down at Samson, who had grown still at the mention of his name. Chester watched as the man smiled, then chuckled.

  “A fine name,” he said with a nod. There was a gasp in the room, which the archbishop ignored—and by extension, so did the rest of them—and he continued on. He lowered Samson into the water slowly and gently. Chester held his breath. It was at this point that the “Pompinshire Twins” as Orley had given to calling them, had burst into loud gales of sobbing, which they had not ceased until the baptism was completed. The Duke of Pompinshire merely grinned and stated his children were averse to being cold and wet in front of an audience, which had seemed to be a suitable enough explanation for those in attendance.

  Samson, however, did not cry. Chester watched in amazement as his son’s lips tilted up in the appearance of a smile, his head wobbling on his tiny, weak neck. When seconds passed with still no tears, Chester glanced up at Orley, who nodded proudly.

  The archbishop baptized Samson, making the sign of the cross upon his head, and then it was time for them to kneel. Chester looked over to Orley, wondering how his husband would do such a thing in front of all who were there. However, Orley merely winked at Chester and holding tight onto his cane, slowly knelt on his left knee, keeping his right foot on the ground. To Chester, his duke appeared as a dashing bard, on his way to pour out a sonnet for his lady love, but—realizing that such thoughts probably were impure in a church—Chester pushed them away and knelt himself.

  The archbishop continued on with the baptism, and Chester listened as well as he could, though his eyes flickered back and forth trying to guess at the source of his unease. When it was time to stand, Chester waited for Orley to stand, his hands bunching in the fabric of his gown as the duke stumbled slightly before righting himself. Chester rose then, thankful that the archbishop did not pause in the ceremony to draw attention to Orley’s predicament.

  “Ye are to take care that this child be brought to the Bishop to be confirmed by him, so soon as he can say the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, in the vulgar tongue, and be further instructed in the Church-Catechism set forth for that purpose.”

  Chester breathed a sigh of relief when the archbishop made the sign of the cross once more and handed Samson over to Lord Galeon, who held a dry blanket given to him by Lady Lucien. He said a final prayer—oh, heavens above, another one?—and finally the ceremony was complete. Lord Galeon walked over with Samson and handed him to Chester. Chester nodded and stared down at his son, the baby blinked up at him, his light hazel eyes filled with a sort of old wisdom. Chester made sure Samson was securely and safely tucked into the blanket and nodded up at Lord Galeon.

  “I thank you, Lord Gal
eon. You did quite well,” he said.

  “Thank you, milady.”

  “Yes, good show, old chap. Though I am amazed you and Lord Savoy were able to renounce all carnal desires without being met with divine punishment almost immediately,” Orley said, his arm wrapping around Chester’s waist.

  Chester leaned against his husband’s side and laughed. When Samson whimpered, Chester looked around for Ben and nodded. It was time they were getting on. Samson needed to be fed, which meant the babe needed to be with his wet nurse, and Chester wanted them away from the church as soon as possible. The feeling of unease had not dissipated with the ending of the ceremony. It had only increased.

  “Let us away, Your Grace,” Chester said.

  “Right you are, Angel,” Orley agreed. He smiled over at their friends. “Shall we all meet back at the estate?”

  Once everyone agreed, they headed toward the doors of the church and to the awaiting carriages. Chester handed Samson over to his nanny, Miss Owen Williams, who sat inside, and he took Ben’s hand to climb within. The loud report of a revolver sounded, and Chester turned in shock and watched as blood exploded from Orley’s body as he was thrown to the ground from the force. “No!”

  Orley had endured torture during the war, and as a result, pain was now a daily companion. Being shot with his husband and son nearby, however, knowing they were potentially in danger, made the agony in his shoulder that much worse. He could hear the sounds of shouting above him, and horses neighing and hooves pounding as riders raced off going God knew where, but there was only one thing forefront in Orley’s mind.

  Chester was standing outside the carriage. Is he well? Did he survive?

  “Whitcomb? Speak to me, man! You have gone through too much to have this be your exit.” Quincy yelling in his ear caused Orley to wince.

  “Cease your bellowing, man. I was shot in my arm, not my bloody ear,” he groused as he opened his eyes. He stared into Quincy’s worried eyes and felt fear stripping through his insides.