The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb

by Vicktor Alexander

  Chester sniffled as tears rolled freely down his cheeks, and he lifted his hands and took Orley’s face in them. He pulled the man’s lips down to his own. He kissed him fiercely, pouring his heart and soul into it. He felt as if he could soar. He shoved away the image of Mr. Hagan that arose, trying hard to stay in the here and now, though it was difficult.

  When the need to breathe became paramount, Chester pulled his mouth away and smiled at Orley, caressing his lover’s dear eyebrows. He shook his head and chuckled. “Do you know how long I have waited to hear you speak such words to me, Your Grace? Orley? My dear, sweet, love? I feel as though I have loved you forever. As if my heart has been searching for yours forever. Thank you for finally telling me. Thank you for loving me and marrying me, and for giving me a son.”

  Orley pressed a kiss upon Chester’s lips, and Chester moaned. For long minutes he lost himself in the feel of his husband’s mouth upon his own, his hands in Orley’s hair, tears rolling down his cheeks as his mind echoed with the reassurance that it was his husband’s lips upon his own. So when Orley moved away, Chester was still leaning forward, his eyes closed and lips puckered. He blinked and looked around, wondering just where Orley had gone.

  “Orley?” he called. “What is wrong?”

  Orley paced the floor in front of him, his hands stroking through his hair, mussing the queue, leaving the blond strands to fall freely around his broad shoulders. Orley turned toward Chester, placed his fisted hands upon his hips, and frowned. He narrowed his eyes, looking quite distressed.

  “Chester, love. Are you quite content with the way we were wed?” he asked.

  Chester’s eyebrows lowered. “I’m sorry?” he asked confused. “I don’t understand, Orley.”

  “Our elopement. Did it make you happy?”

  “Oh!” Chester glanced away for a moment before returning his gaze to Orley. “Yes, Orley. I am very happy we eloped. It was ever so romantic.”

  Orley shook his head. “Do not lie to me, Chester. Would you rather we had married at St. George’s?”

  Chester swallowed. “Servants do not marry at St. George’s, Orley.”

  Orley grinned. “But you forget, my dear. You are a servant no longer. You are a duchess.”

  Chester’s mouth dropped open as he realized what Orley was saying, and he covered his mouth. “Oh, Orley, truly? Can such a thing be done?”

  Orley shrugged and then nodded. “I do not see why not, my dear. I am a duke. I shall write a letter to the archbishop and the King and let them know. We shall have the banns read, but, yes. You and I shall be re-wed in St. George’s Cathedral as soon as we are able. I will give you the wedding you deserve, and I shall help you to heal from that bastard’s touch upon your skin.”

  Tlondon, England

  St. George’s Cathedral

  Mr. and Mrs. Imogen Boland request the honor of your presence at the wedding of their son, Lady Chester Garrick, The Duchess of Whitcomb and the Duchess of Nants, to Lord Orley Garrick, The Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Wilts, Earl of Leeds, Viscount of Cheshire, Baron of Berks, and Duke of Nants, Marquess of Coventry, Earl of Cardiff, Viscount of Wells, Baron of Newton, at St. George’s Cathedral, April 12, in the year of our Lord 1815, Tlondon, Angland, Wedding Breakfast immediately following.

  Chester stood in his suite of rooms waiting to change into his bridal gown, completely regretting his decision to go through with the wedding. He and Orley were already married. Did they really need some big, fancy ceremony just to prove it to society? No, they did not.

  He would go and tell Orley the wedding was off, and they would collect Samson and return home. Perhaps they would forgo Coventry altogether and head directly to Whitcomb so they could escape the wagging tongues of the society matrons, for there were certain to be many.

  “I know that look quite well,” a soft voice said behind him, and Chester turned around to find himself face-to-face with Lady Lucien. He blushed and wrapped his arms around himself.

  “Apologies, Your Grace. I am certain I don’t know what you mean.”

  Lady Lucien laughed and stepped close to Chester to take his hand and lead him over to the settee. “The look you are wearing on your face just now, Lady Chester. The one that says the entire ceremony is the stuff of fluff and nonsense and you don’t need to go through with it, when the truth of the matter is, you are quite scared to walk down the aisle in front of all of those people and make a mistake.” Lady Lucien turned to Chester and touched his cheek. “Trust me, Lady Chester, you will be fine.”

  Chester shook his head. “How can you be so sure?”

  Lady Lucien laughed. “Because if I can survive it, then so shall you.” Chester turned his head to look out of the window. “Is this really necessary, though, Lady Lucien? This ceremony? Are His Grace and I not already wed?”

  “Yes, you are,” Lady Lucien agreed. “But it was done in secret. Hastily. As if he were ashamed to be married to you. As if he knew that you would not be accepted and he would force you upon society.”

  “He was correct of course.”

  “Yes, he was.” Lady Lucien sighed. “But now, you have proven yourself. You have hosted a number of balls, been received into homes, and conducted yourself admirably. You have garnered sympathy. You have behaved as a duchess should. And now he can marry you publicly. Now he should marry you before them all, to show them he is not ashamed to have you as his duchess.”

  Chester nodded. Lady Lucien was correct. It was time he showed the people of the ton, these members of the realm, that he belonged among them. Standing beside Orley as his duchess, with Samson as the heir to the dukedoms.

  “You are right, Lady Lucien.”

  “Well of course I am,” Lady Lucien said. “You will soon find that, as women, we are always right.”

  Chester laughed and turned to the door when it opened. Missy walked in followed by Chester’s mother carrying his bridal gown. Chester stared at the gown in wonder. He had never seen such a beautiful piece of fabric, and his skin began to tingle at the prospect of wearing it.

  Lady Lucien chuckled. “Your response is much different from my own. I cringed at the idea of wearing such a thing.”

  Chester gasped, placing a hand on his chest. “But, Your Grace! Such a thing is exquisite!”

  Lady Lucien shook his head. “I am much more comfortable in pantaloons and my woman trousers, Lady Chester. I shall leave you to your gowns.” He smiled. “Now, let us get you dressed.”

  Chester nodded excitedly. He rose and walked to the middle of the room, removing his dressing gown. He stood on the warmed towel that Missy laid upon the floor, and giggled as his mother rubbed crushed lilac petals into his flesh. He watched in amazement at the almost intricate dance performed by his mother and his lady’s maid as they moved about his body, Wilhelmina making his body smell fresh and delightful, as Missy decorated his hair for the ceremony.

  When they were done and he smelled like the gardens he loved so much, Chester donned his robe once more and walked into his adjoining bedchamber, where his wedding outfit waited along with his trousseau. He smiled at his mother, who followed, tears streaming down her cheeks, singing softly in the language of her homeland. Chester stepped toward the bed and lifted the fine silk, green Tfrench drawers Missy held out for him, tucking in his manhood and bollocks. He then pulled on the pair of green-and-silver garters his maldy had bought for him, before tugging on the traditional Whitcomb hunter-green-and-silver jeweled garter belt that was worn beneath the gown.

  Taking the stockings from Missy with a word of thanks, Chester smiled and pulled them on slowly so as not to get a run in the delicate fabric, then tied the stockings to the garter belt. Once they were on, he grabbed the chemise his mother had worn on her wedding day, and put it on as well. He pulled on the green-and-silver lace garter Orley had given to him just that morning, over his right leg. He let Missy put the shift on him and then braced himself for the corset. He held Lady Lucien’s hands and smiled at the grimace the woman wor
e as the strings of the corset were tightened to the point of pain. Chester was thankful he was not carrying a child so the strings could be pulled ever tighter, but he called a halt when Missy asked to go further. He did need to breathe, after all. Next, the large hoop underskirt was pulled up around his waist and cinched around his now small hips.

  Finally came the moment they had all been waiting for. Missy walked over to the armoire and lifted the gown she had hung upon entering. The gown was green velvet with silver embroidery around the hem and the back. Chester was anxious to wear the gorgeous gown and he stretched his hand toward it. When he noticed his mother and Lady Lucien looking at him with fond smiles on their faces, he pulled his hand back, blushing. Chester’s gaze moved over the fabric of the gown, coming to rest on the intricate hand stitching around the sleeves and the cathedral train of silver embroidery. The dress made Chester’s honey gold tresses and hazel eyes shine.

  Chester’s breath caught along with all the other women in the room as he stepped into the gown and Missy slowly but surely fastened the buttons that trailed up his spine. When she was finished, she led Chester to the vanity and lowered him over the seat, making sure that the skirt of the dress settled out around him. Missy pulled down a few curls of Chester’s hair until they framed his face before she set about applying his cosmetics. When she finished, she lifted his head so he could see what he looked like.

  Chester was amazed at the sight that greeted him, and he lifted his hand to his mouth. Missy grabbed his hand to stop him from smearing the cosmetics on his lips, and Chester found Lady Lucien in the mirror when he heard a small laugh behind him.

  “Your reaction bears a faint resemblance to my own, I am afraid, Lady Chester. But I assure you, that gorgeous woman staring back at you is indeed your own reflection. You have always been that lovely. Missy did naught but allow you to see it.”

  Chester shook his head. “Surely not. I would know if I had seen such a face in the mirror looking back at me before now, Lady Lucien.”

  “Indeed you would, Lady Chester, had you been looking for him. But now you have been given cause to see the woman looking back at you.”

  Chester returned his gaze to his face in the mirror and smiled. He wondered what Orley would think when he saw him walking down the aisle, and he got butterflies in his stomach. He jumped slightly when Wilhelmina clapped her hands.

  “Now, now. That is quite enough of that. It is time we were away for the church. Chester, please, put on your heels so we can all get into the carriage. I am sure your maldy is beside herself belowstairs.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Chester rose with Missy’s assistance, slid his feet into the heeled silver shoes, and stepped out of his bedchamber. Walking down the stairs, he smiled at his maldy, who stared at him in shock.

  “You are exquisite, my child,” Imogen said.

  “Thank you, Maldy.”

  “Yes, yes. He is a gorgeous duchess. Now, let us go. It would not do for the duchess to be late for his own wedding,” Wilhelmina stated firmly, taking Samson from the nanny’s arms and striding from the house.

  Chester looked at his maldy, and they both burst into laughter. Placing his hand on the inside of Imogen’s elbow, Chester lifted the front of his gown and glanced over his shoulder. He smiled as Missy picked up the long cathedral train to follow him. Turning back around, he walked down the steps and allowed his maldy to assist him into the carriage, then sat across from his mother to settle in for the ride to the cathedral, where Orley waited for him.

  As the carriage pulled up in front of St. George’s Cathedral, Chester placed a hand on his stomach, exhaling deeply. He could do this. He must do this. He would not have Samson grow up thinking his father was ashamed of his fotmy.

  Chester allowed his maldy to assist him out of the carriage and prepared to enter the cathedral. He looked around when he heard cheers rising up around him. Standing out on the street were numerous Tlondoners offering up well-wishes, and Chester smiled shyly at them, pressing closer to his maldy’s side. He was surprised by the number of people who had come out. Not just members of the nobility, but servants and lower-class folk as well. A large number of Tafrican faces were in the crowd also. Chester smiled and felt his heart swell knowing that his wedding, his marriage to the Duke of Whitcomb, could bring hope to so many.

  “Ready, my dear?” Imogen asked.

  Chester looked up at his maldy and nodded. As they stepped into the cathedral, Chester heard the strains of “Give Me Your Hand” playing, and he smiled up at his maldy. Imogen shook her head.

  “It was His Grace’s idea. Said he got the idea from the Duke of Pompinshire’s wedding last year,” Imogen explained.

  Chester sniffled and accepted the handkerchief his maldy handed him to dab at the corner of his eyes. When he glanced up, he gasped at the sight of Orley standing in his military uniform. The man was absolutely breathtaking. His blond hair was slicked back with pomade, and his face completely clean-shaven. His broad shoulders were encased in an embroidered blue coat with white facings, worn unbuttoned, with white breeches and stockings. On his sleeve were a number of insignias that identified his rank as an officer. Chester was in awe of him. This man. This hero. And when Orley smiled at him, Chester fell just a bit more in love with him.

  He knew in that moment that he wasn’t doing this for anyone except his family. Orley and Samson. They were the ones he was getting married for. And it was time for the ceremony to begin.

  “Are you ready?” Imogen asked.

  Chester nodded. “Yes.”

  Orley stared at Chester as Imogen led the young woman down the aisle. Chester was resplendent in his bridal gown of hunter green and silver, and it was all Orley could do to restrain himself from rushing forward to grab his husband in his arms and bear him away to the nearest room to ravish him. Everyone would hear Chester’s cries of passion rising to the rafters, of course, but Orley would not give a fig.

  He nodded at Imogen when the man came abreast of him, and smiled down into Chester’s face. He flicked his gaze toward three throne chairs that sat behind the pulpit and heard Chester’s gasp. His Royal Highness, Prince Regent George IV, Princess Caroline, as well as Princess Edward were in attendance. It was a great honor, and Orley was sure Chester was well aware of what it meant to all of society.

  The archbishop smiled at them and cleared his throat.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted by God in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church, which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commanded of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men, and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained.”

  The ceremony continued as Orley thought of just what would be occurring between himself and Chester once the wedding breakfast was complete.

  “Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together let him now speak or hereafter forever hold his peace.”

  There was silence as the archbishop waited for anyone to speak. Orley looked out of the corner of his eye and smirked when he noticed Wilhelmina glaring out at the crowd. When long moments passed and no one had arisen, the archbishop continued.

  “Orley Boston Garrick VIII, Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Wilts, Earl of Leeds, Viscount of Cheshire, Baron of Berks, and Duke of Nants, Marquess of Coventry, Earl of Cardiff, Viscount of Wells, Baron of Newton, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comf
ort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Orley smiled, his heart swelling, and stated with great pride and without hesitation, “I will.”

  “Lady Chester Rolla Garrick, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Orley watched as Chester grinned, lifted his left hand up, and reached across Imogen, to touch Orley’s cheek. There was a collective gasp in the room, but Orley ignored them all, love infusing his being as he pressed his own hand against the back of Chester’s. Chester nodded. “I already have and I always will. Again and again.”

  Orley’s chest expanded at Chester’s words, the darkness that had been his constant companion since his kidnapping and torture in Badajoz dissipating. The light of Chester’s love and smile rained down on him and brightened the blackest recesses of his soul.

  “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

  “I, his maldy, do so giveth,” Imogen stated proudly before giving Chester’s right hand to the archbishop, who then placed Chester’s hand in Orley’s right.

  The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb | 267

  “Your Grace, repeat these words after me,” the archbishop commanded, and Orley nodded. He gazed intently at Chester, though he listened to the archbishop.

  “I, Orley Boston Garrick VIII, Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Wilts, Earl of Leeds, Viscount of Cheshire, Baron of Berks, and Duke of Nants, Marquess of Coventry, Earl of Cardiff, Viscount of Wells, Baron of Newton do take unto myself Lady Chester Rolla Garrick to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”