The Reluctant Duchess

by Winchester, Catherine

  He tried a few different techniques until he learned what she liked best, but this time he didn’t bring her to orgasm. This time he wanted to share that with her. When he felt that he had tortured her for long enough, he made his way back up her body and was surprised when she reached down and placed him at her entrance. He didn’t need any more of an invitation and slipped into her slick channel.

  This time he didn’t need to tell her to maintain eye contact. Her hands ran over his chest and back as they came together, her fingernails gently scratching his skin. As he felt his climax approaching again, he rested his weight on one arm and slipped the other hand between them, to stimulate her bud. She gasped and increased the power of her thrusts, needing him deeper inside her, as deep as he could go. Richard responded in kind and he brought her to her peak just seconds before his.

  The look in her eyes was a sight to behold. As well as pleasure, desire and need, he saw absolute trust there and it warmed his heart.

  When they had both recovered a little, he kissed her tenderly.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For being so absolutely perfect. For taking me to your bed. For trusting me.”

  “Well believe it or not, it wasn’t actually that much of a burden for me.” She smiled, tenderly smoothing his fallen locks of his hair back into place.

  He kissed her again.

  “I suppose now you’re going to start nagging me, like my mother, to get my hair cut.”

  “Actually no, I quite like it.” She said, slipping both hands into his hair and grabbing two handfuls. “Plus, it’s easier to control you like this.” She pulled his head down to hers for another kiss, but she was careful not to pull too hard.

  He grinned as she released him and he pulled away.

  “I suppose we should get under the covers this time,” he said.

  A look of fear crossed Annabelle’s face. “What if we’re discovered?”

  “We won’t be,” he assured her.

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to leave you yet. I want to wake up with you, like we did at the estate.”

  “I want that too,” she confessed, “but there are already enough rumours about us. If my reputation falls much further, people will stop frequenting the coffee house.”

  His first instinct was to say ‘To hell with the coffee house’ but he knew that she wasn’t ready for that step yet. That step involved marriage, after which she wouldn’t need the coffee house but she was far too scarred from her life to even consider marriage yet.

  Suddenly he realised that he hadn’t even considered protection. He didn’t much care if she fell pregnant as he already knew that she was his future but she would care very much; she would see it as him trying to trap her into marriage.

  “Do you have a douche?” he asked suddenly, surprising her.

  “Oh, um, I don’t know. I think we have one somewhere. Mother used to say that cleanliness was next to godliness. Why?”

  “It helps to prevent pregnancy. I’m sorry, I should have thought about it before but I was so caught up in the moment that-“

  “Shh,” she said, placing a finger across his lips, although she looked concerned. “I’m pleased to know that but the fault here is as much mine as yours. I hadn’t stopped to consider that either.”

  He still felt that the fault was his, because he was the more experienced, but he didn’t think that she would appreciate being told that. He couldn’t risk losing her, not when he had just got through to her.

  “Go find it now,” he ordered. “And bring some vinegar to mix with the water.

  She nodded her understanding and pulled a robe on, before sneaking out into the hall. He waited anxiously for her to return which she did, fifteen minutes later.

  “Did anyone see you?” he asked.

  “No. Thankfully it was in Mother’s dressing room, so I didn’t have to go into her room.”

  “And the vinegar?”

  “The servants sleep on the top floor, so there was no one in the kitchen to see me.”

  He instructed her on its use and then, since the mood had long since been killed, decided that she was right and that he should leave. He didn’t want to and he lingered over the goodbye, but eventually she unlocked the rear servants’ entrance for him and he stole off into the night. Thankfully he had walked here, so there was no driver to give him away. His servants would know that he had returned home in the early hours but if anything, they would assume that he had been with Ada. The detectives who were keeping watch over Annabelle would have seen him go in but even if they had their suspicions, they would have no proof of the time he left.

  It was gone three a.m. when he got home and the house was deathly silent, so he crept up to his room, hoping that no one noticed just how late he had returned.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Annabelle awoke the next morning, she was sore but not unpleasantly so. She had enjoyed last night, although she did feel a little foolish for not having considered the possibility of conceiving a child. She knew the dangers that an unwed mother faced, after all, Minnie was ample proof of that.

  The vinegar in the douche had stung like nobody’s business, but the pain had quickly passed and it had needed to be done. She was just grateful that Richard had finally considered the possibility.

  Even feeling foolish though, she couldn’t regret her actions.

  Perhaps it was wrong and immoral, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way to her.

  She hummed as she got ready for work, although she was careful not to seem too happy. However, not even the news that someone else had been robbed and beaten near the shop could dent her happiness right now.

  Lavinia stopped by mid-morning for a chat and placed an order for Thursday. She noticed Annabelle’s improved mood but she didn’t comment on it.

  As he used to, Richard popped in between two and three to share lunch. She prepared them two bowls of wild boar casserole, which they took to her office to eat but as soon as she had placed the tray on the desk, Richard stepped up behind her, pressing his body against hers.

  “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, before lavishing kisses on her neck.

  “I missed you too,” she said, leaning back against him. Even through her petticoat, she could feel his length pressed into her rear. She allowed herself a few moments of indulgence, after all, she had needs too but when things became too amorous, she pulled away. Richard pouted like a schoolboy.

  “I don’t care how sad you look, it’s not happening; not here.” She tried to sound stern but she was more amused really. She began to eat her casserole and Richard sat down and followed suit.

  “I know, my love.” He smiled easily, letting her know that he had just been teasing.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know when we will get another such opportunity.” She sighed. “I’m afraid our memories will just have to tide us over for a while.”

  “It’s strange you should mention that, because I happen to know that in a few days’ time, Mr Braithwaite is moving out.”

  “And a new owner will be moving in,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, us.”

  Annabelle blinked a few times as she processed that. “You mean, you bought the leasehold?”

  “I did.” He answered carefully, unable to read her expression.

  “Even after all those horrible things I said?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. “You really are the sweetest man, you know.”

  “I try.” He smiled, please that she wasn’t yelling at him.

  “You do realise that probably won’t stop Frederick, don’t you?”

  “I do, which is one of the reasons I didn’t want to tell you, in case you and your staff stopped travelling in pairs.”

  “What are the other reasons?” she asked.

  “Well… mainly, I didn’t want you to be angry with me again.�
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  “I am sorry. I feel like quite the nag now.”

  “You are not a nag,” he assured her. “Now, can we please put that incident behind us? I don’t want my current joy to be tarnished with old memories.”

  “Of course,” she nodded. “So when do you take ownership of the house?”

  “Wednesday. And his wife wants to furnish the new house, so I’m keeping most of the furnishings.”

  Annabelle couldn’t help but share his glee at their new meeting place.

  “I suppose I could work late some evenings. Bookkeeping is a time consuming and tedious process.”

  Richard laughed. “There is a devious side to you that I hadn’t noticed before but I must say, I find it most appealing.”

  “You say that now,” she laughed.

  “I shall say it forever.”

  She looked a little unnerved by his words. “Can you really afford to leave the property empty?”

  “I can. Besides it’s still a good investment.”

  “Maybe that could be your new vocation, property agent.”

  “Hmm,” he pretended to consider it. “It would certainly be interesting to see how many London properties we could make love in.”

  Annabelle threw a piece of bread at his head for his impertinence.

  “I hear there was another attack last night.” He said, turning serious.

  Annabelle nodded. “He wasn’t known to any of the shopkeepers, just a passer-by.”

  “Do you still think it’s Frederick behind this?” he asked.

  “I do. I had assumed that he was trying to get Mr Braithwaite to lower the price of the lease but now that I know that you have already bought it, I’m not sure what his plan is any longer.”

  “The police still can’t find a link to Frederick,” he sighed. He too was sure that the continuing attacks were the work of Frederick, he just couldn’t prove it, nor had his detective had any luck. He had been able to confirm that Mrs Braithwaite’s ‘friend’ was Frederick, but that was hardly proof that he had orchestrated these incidents.

  “If he didn’t succeed in buying the leasehold though, why is he still doing this? Why attack innocent people?” she asked.

  “Perhaps his only goal is to intimidate you.”

  “Well, it does make me feel uneasy. Each morning, I wonder if today is the day I will discover that my shop has been robbed or vandalised overnight.” She had decided to get exterior wooden shutters for the coffee house and each evening they were padlocked closed. She had also improved security on all the doors but with the right tools, anyone who was determined could probably still find a way in.

  “Do you really feel unsafe?” he asked.

  Annabelle nodded, looking a little hesitant. “It’s just… well, I think that I’m being followed.”

  “Followed?”

  “Yes. I’m not certain but there are four different men who are always around. They take shifts to sit in the coffee house, but I have glimpsed them following me home some days, and I think I saw one of them outside my house one night.”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “I wanted to keep you safe so I employed them. They weren’t supposed to be noticed.”

  She visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank God. I had visions of being attacked or worse, the house burnt down or something.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have told you but you didn’t seem to like my interference.”

  “Right now, I’m too relieved to be angry,” she said, smiling.

  “It really upset you, didn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he came around the desk and knelt at her feet. “I meant to protect you, not worry you.”

  “I know,” she assured him, determined not to get upset with him. She didn’t honestly think that he was keeping tabs on her and in her heart, she knew that his intentions had been pure.

  “I also have another two detectives looking into Frederick. One is finding out what he can about Frederick’s past, while the other is wooing a maid in his house to keep discreet tabs on him.”

  “Have you discovered anything yet?”

  “Nothing that will put him behind bars. I did find out that he befriended Mr Braithwaite’s wife and was the one talking her into trying to join London Society, but that is hardly illegal.

  “No,” she agreed, “but thank you for trying.”

  “We will best him in the end,” Richard assured her.

  Annabelle could only hope that he was right.

  Richard visited her in the coffee house on Tuesday and Wednesday but aside from a few stolen kisses in her office, they were unable to be intimate.

  Mr Braithwaite moved out on the Wednesday, his staff removing his personal belongings during the day whilst he was at work, and Richard and Annabelle set their first assignation for Thursday evening. Richard informed his detectives that Annabelle would be bookkeeping and he would see her home, so they were to follow the rest of the staff home and keep watch on the house.

  The anticipation that Annabelle felt threatened to overwhelm her but she did her best to seem as unexcited by the prospect of ‘bookkeeping’ as she could. They closed after the final customer left at around a quarter past eight and she took her hair down once she was alone, giving her staff plenty of time to head home.

  Annabelle headed out to the rear yard, then to the servants’ entrance to the house above, which was at the side of the yard. Richard was waiting for her, wearing only his trousers and shirt, and as soon as the door closed behind her, he greeted her with a passionate kiss. Then he took her hand and led her up to one of the guest bedrooms.

  Annabelle gasped as she entered the room, for every available surface had been covered with candles, giving the room a fairy tale quality. She looked around in awe, turning in circles. She was pleased to note that the heavy velvet curtains had been drawn, so hopefully no one could see the display.

  “It’s beautiful,” she gasped.

  Richard stepped up behind her and put his arms around her waist, as he bent to kiss her neck.

  “Not as beautiful as you,” he assured her.

  She turned in his arms and kissed him, whilst his hands went to the back of her dress, where her buttons resided today. He noticed that there were a lot fewer this time and he wondered if she had chosen this dress for its ease of removal. Hardly sixty seconds after he had started, her dress and petticoat lay in a pool on the floor.

  She in turn was wasting no time in divesting him of his shirt and trousers, their passion for each other even greater this time than the first. Before he had even removed her corset and chemise, he had pinned her up against one of the posts on the bed and was plunging into her moist depths. Annabelle responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, so he was supporting her weight completely.

  Annabelle dipped her head and began to kiss his neck, even scraping her teeth over the tender flesh there, which spurred Richard to even greater heights of passion. When he was spent and his ardour finally began to cool, he carried her to the bed and laid her down, reluctantly pulling out. She sat up and he divested her of her remaining clothes, then got into bed beside her, pulling her to him.

  “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” he asked, running one of her silken curls through his fingers.

  “I’m not made of glass,” she assured him with a laugh. “I won’t break. Besides, I was as eager as you for this reunion.”

  They spent a blissful two hours together before they had to part (with some reluctance). He helped her dress again and as she pinned her hair up, he dressed as well. Blowing out all the candles proved to be quite a task and they began to compete, seeing who could blow out the most in one breath. Although neither was sure who the winner was by the end, they both claimed victory.

  They exited through the servants’ entrance and back through the coffee house, locking up each door behind them. Richard then hailed a cab and escorted Annabelle home, waiting until she was inside before directing the ca
b to his home.

  Annabelle was waiting anxiously for her meeting with Richard that evening and she had a feeling that they would both be insatiable by the time they actually met.

  Since that first meeting over the coffee house, they managed to see each other twice a week in the house, Tuesdays and Thursdays and each Sunday, Richard came to her house while the servants were off duty, although he was careful to leave before dawn.

  It was becoming harder and harder to manufacture excuses to stay late at the coffee house. Tonight her excuse was that she had a special order for a torte that she wouldn’t have the time to bake tomorrow. She would claim that she had delivered it on her way home if anyone asked where the cake was, but such excuses would soon be seen through.

  Parting was becoming harder each time and Annabelle was actually starting to thaw to the idea of marriage. In fact they’d had a proper discussion about it in her bedroom last Sunday. As they were enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking, Richard had raised the subject, asking (with a practiced air of nonchalance) if she thought that she could ever marry.

  Annabelle had been quiet for a few moments, composing her thoughts so that she could give him an honest answer.

  “I have thought about it,” she admitted. “Every time we part, I can’t help but think that if we were married, we wouldn’t have to leave each other. Part of me longs for it, although I’m still frightened by the prospect.”

  “What frightens you?”

  “Almost everything about becoming a wife,” she confessed. “Giving up the coffee house for one. It’s hard work but I feel a sense of accomplishment each day and I actually love baking; I find it very soothing, creating something from scratch. To give that up and spend my days planning dinner parties for people that I don’t much like, that other people will cook, is my personal idea of hell.”