The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories

by Lacoste, G. G.

  Francis had been attracted to her from the day she met her. It had not just been her beauty, although she could not deny that she had caught her breath when she first saw her. It was her style and most of all her intelligence to which she warmed instantly. Francis could not abide empty-headed people.

  Camellia didn’t impose, didn’t push. She’d asked knowing questions, had done her homework on the upkeep of the Manor as well as on Francis herself. She knew where she had come from, where she’d worked before, how long she’d been with the Duchess. And wonder of wonders, she understood what the position of a Duchess entailed.

  No, she was, definitely not her run of the mill mistress, she was a Lady confident of her abilities. Camellia had decided to retain her for duties at the Manor on their first meeting and had never regretted it.

  Francis had also gathered quite a lot of information about the young Duke with whom she had spent an erotic time and was somewhat jealous of the Duchess.

  It was on a personal level that Duke Ambrose almost regretted meeting Camellia. An adventurous man, he was wary of entanglements, but he could not remember ever having been more drawn to a woman, more completely entranced. Any man would feel it; any man who knew what a woman should be would recognize Camellia as the real thing. Humor, curiosity, intelligence and warmth. All of that.

  The Duke had fallen in love with her, but she’d never given him any encouragement…not before and not after her husband’s terrible accident. Except for what the Duke saw in her eyes in unguarded moments, she behaved as a true Duchess. A married Duchess, who had a crush for the Duke, yet suppressed her feelings.

  Camellia eased her mount into the reserved space in front of the Manor farmhouse. As always she took pleasure in the appearance of the farm and at her own farsightedness in buying it at yesterday’s price. It was a beautiful little farm, in the style of an old cottage. Crisp white silk curtains shone against the windows, and the effect was one of stability, which was exactly what she had envisioned when she’d first seen it some years before, neglected.

  She entered the farm and was greeted by the maid, who was straight out of a convent, polite, scrubbed, and dependable. Camellia went down the corridor to her private room, nodding to her farm-keeper.

  She entered her room and was once again pleased by what she saw. With a tendency to spread out when she was finished her work, Camellia had chosen a large antique bed.

  She placed her holdall on the bed, took her seat, and rang a bell for her maid. Camellia smiled as Claris entered the office. Like the Chamber Maid, she was a genuine find. She had common sense, a dry ironic humor, and had become as much a friend to Camellia as a maid.

  “How did it go at the county fair?” Claris asked.

  “Like a dose of castor oil. Duke Ambrose is realistic, but he wasn’t thrilled. I think he will be able to convince the Arch Duke, even though it will leave a few scars.” She motioned for Claris to take a chair before continuing. “Well, what new catastrophes occurred this morning?”

  Claris asked, “Do you want it in the order of importance, or sequence?”

  Camellia grinned. She knew that whatever fire had started, Claris would have already dampened some of the flames. “I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Alright then.” Claris took a breath and began. She briefed Camellia of all the current affairs not missing a single happening. It really proved how efficient the maid was.

  Camellia made a note of all the information her maid fed her. “I’ll attend to all the matters one by one, so give me a little time Claris.” She said.

  “I don’t think those words translates into something negative?” Claris said and waited a moment, then went on, “I’ll leave you to it and see you as soon as you can spare the time. But I would appreciate very much if you would give top priority to the case of Chalot, day by day she is getting out of hand and because of her, we have lost a couple of lambs.” She smiled impishly.

  Camellia frowned. This was something she’d been expecting. “Yes, Claris, I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.

  After Claris had left the room Camellia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She had indeed been expecting this request from Claris.

  Camellia opened her eyes and automatically reached for the, bell ready to ring for her maid as she had so many times after her husband’s accident, when her eyes fell on the smiling painting of her husband, framed and resting on the antique table. She put down the bell. She’d learned not to call and inquire about her husband, not to smother him with her concern, her private need to assure herself that he was all right, still miraculously alive….that although she could never, ever change what had happened, or forgive herself…. he was still alive. He’d hated those inquiries, had finally accused her of checking up on him, of denying the fact that wheelchair or no, he was functioning at least as half a man. His coldness at those times though, was too painful.

  Cedric, she breathed to herself, trying to keep her emotions from taking over. They’d once had it all. Evidently they had enough to offend the gods. And now, just two years after the accident, they lived in a sort of truce, each terribly conscious of the other’s fragility, stepping around one another’s feelings, never addressing problems head on. They lived as though it had not happened; trying to pretend everything was the same between them.

  It was only when she was alone, or very tired, that she allowed her feelings to surface. At those times she felt like a crazy woman. Sexually frustrated, furious, unable to understand why it happened to them, unable to forgive the fates.

  And how she missed the love and bed they had once shared. Now, there was almost nothing. And she would have accepted so little, his touch, his caressing, his warmth, and his affection.

  Unconsciously her hands reached out to her own womanhood, one hand between her thighs groping her pubic mound, while her other hand caressed her rounded pouting breasts.

  Camellia straightened in her bed, chiding herself for becoming maudlin, she swore she would never allow herself to be conquered by her sexual frustrations and wants.

  The Duchess could not ignore how much she disliked Charlot as a person. Of course Charlot knew her worth and took full advantage of it. She never pretended otherwise. Still, not a day went by in which the Duchess did not wish that she could afford to get rid of Charlot.

  Camellia faulted herself for hiring Charlot, but her background as a former maid had been perfect for the job and she seemed mature enough to take the nobles verbal instructions. Obviously Camellia had been wrong.

  Charlot never wanted the farm to succeed; she wanted the farm workers to learn only enough to do her drone work.

  With all of that, Camellia couldn’t let Charlot go on. Camellia was a practical Duchess and a farm like this couldn’t afford to throw away the reputation it had gained. She sighed and rang the bell to summon Charlot. At least she could guarantee that the farm would find Charlot a better job somewhere else.

  Charlot, heard the bell ring, as she stared lovingly at her expensive deer skin coat hanging on the back of her closed door.

  She murmured the usual, “the bitch wants me,” she stood up, but she was thinking of the luxurious coat against her skin. Not only was the coat wonderfully sensuous, it was tangible evidence of her vanity. She had bought the coat for herself. At the county fair to be sure….but nonetheless she’d bought it with money that was not her own.

  Few males ever gave Charlot presents. Especially men of standing, Aside from her strong personality and subtle ability to let a man feel somehow inferior, men were put off by Charlot’s astonishing beauty. There was something almost wild in her flashing turquoise come-hither eyes. She was a petite young woman, but her body suggested lushness from her firm, full breasts to her long, slender legs. She was attractive and frightening at the same time.

  Now Charlot quickly slipped into the coat. Now then, Charlot, she addressed herself silently. Step into the lion’s den before lunch, Mustn’t keep her highness waiting.

  Camel
lia looked up as Charlot entered and saw the coat, “Aren’t you rushing things a bit?”

  Charlot smiled. “Let’s cut the talk, I suppose this summons is about my employment here at the farm? Honestly, my Lady, for a woman with your farm knowledge, I will never understand what criteria you base your hiring practices on.”

  “I seem to recall I also interviewed you before an offer of employment was extended to you.” Camellia pointed out.

  Charlot looked uncomfortable for only a quick second. The Duchess then said, “Yes, well I admit I thought you might have had potential. I probably let my charitable instincts get in the way.”

  Camellia made a small, impatient movement with her head. “Spare me, Charlot. In any event now that you have decided to quit on your own, I have no option but to let you go.”

  “Well,” Charlot said, not bothering to disguise the disdain in her voice. “I’ll scarcely know the difference as some of you consider me hopeless, a complete incompetent.”

  Camellia managed to keep the anger out of her tone as she said, “It seems you were competent enough to mess up the farm.”

  Charlot shrugged elaborately. “Oh, that…..”

  Camellia suddenly had no stomach for conversation. “What do you want, Charlot?”

  Charlot did not miss the edge of irritation in Camellia’s voice and smiled sweetly. “Well. If you really want to know ….. I want the farm.”

  Camellia refused to rise to the bait. “Charlot, if I did know your ambitions, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place. Anyone who is after my throat isn’t enough to be a farm hand.” Not giving Charlot a chance to respond, Camellia continued, “Now, if you can manage alone for a while, I’ll start Claris on the prescreening process for a new farm hand.”

  Charlot was one of the people who knew how far she could push Camellia and she learned it the hard way.

  Sir Cedric’s Decision.

  Meanwhile Cedric was at home in his wheel chair and giving a lot of thought to his marital status, after his near fatal accident he was now half the man, he had known. He had paralyzed Camellia along with himself.

  No amount of talking would ever change the fact that he was dead from the waist down and would forever be so. It was useless and Cedric had no time for lost causes.

  Cedric slept in his own room, John Bastion always within sound of the call bell, and Camellia went to bed alone. Alone and lonely, Cedric was unable to bring anything to the marriage. Still unable to give Camellia the sort of relationship she needed….and had a right to.

  He prayed that she would go away on her own. That she would finally accept that there was nothing she could do to save the marriage…. there was nothing of the marriage, as they had known it, to save.

  Cedric spun his wheel chair away from the window when he heard Camellia at the front door. She entered the study, the unspoken question in her eyes… how was his day, what was his mood? Questions she had learned not to ask, knowing full well what the answer would probably be. She looked particularly tired this evening and he forced himself to put a light note in his voice. He forced himself to behave as though he hadn’t spent the day trying to figure out how to leave her.

  “Well, the lady of the Manor returns. How are things in the world of farm management?”

  Her smile relaxed as she sat opposite him, crossing her long beautiful legs, looking feminine even in her tailored riding suit. “Its days like today that makes me wish I’d paid more attention to my better instincts,” she said wearily.

  “Rough day?”

  “Not any more than usual. Thanks to Charlot.”

  “Well,” he said lightly, “I could use a drink if you can pour one for me.”

  “I happen to be in need of one myself,” she said, smiling in relief at Cedric’s apparent good mood. “Just let me get out of my suit and I’ll be right with you, my dear.” She said planting a kiss on her husband’s forehead.

  Cedric watched her head for the bedroom and the quick wash she would take. No more long soaks in the tub for Camellia. She wanted nothing they had once shared and could share no longer. It was another way in which she denied herself as much as possible. They were killing one another and it had to stop. The lump that came into his throat threatened to strangle him. He had to find a way to free her….free the two of them. She wouldn’t go on her own; she had said for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, and she meant it.

  Cedric didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure just when, but some way, somehow he would do it. He had to….for both of them.

  Claris Bastian sat at her farm table awaiting the arrival of Camellia. Claris was always in the farm a half hour before normal work hours. Camellia never arrived before 10 a.m.

  Claris held fort at the farm. She was very good at the job and she truly admired Camellia, both as a friend and a Lady. But she dreaded what this morning’s message would do to Camellia’s façade of calm serenity.

  The most important message was from The Arch Duke of the Manor House, He had an urgent matter to discuss with Camellia.

  The Arch Duke wanted Camellia to come to London and join him to discuss the signing of a new document for the purchase of another large plot of land.

  Camellia always traveled for her elders, making whatever trips were necessary in order to screen potential deals.

  Claris thought that Camellia’s willingness to go the extra mile was the mark of a true professional and Camellia was professional to the core. At least that was how she’d always conducted matters before Cedric’s accident. She hadn’t traveled at all the first year after his fall from the unruly horse.

  Claris certainly had found that understandable. The physical therapy had been extremely painful and Cedric’s adjustment was difficult. But as the second year came and went and Camellia still found reasons not to leave the Manor. Claris became more and more concerned.

  Camellia had managed to avoid traveling by using her vast resources and friends in the right places. But signing of the new deal was an important matter. She should not refuse the Arch Duke. Yet Claris knew Camellia would try to find some way not to go.

  Claris felt a mixture of sadness and anger, Cedric’s accident was going to wreck everything for which Camellia had worked so hard, but Claris wasn’t going to let it happen. Even if she risked losing her place in the farm and friend, she was going to convince Camellia that she had to make this trip.

  Her bell rang. The Duchess had arrived.

  “Morning my Lady.” Claris looked at her carefully. “Ready for the deluge?”

  Camellia seemed relaxed enough as she glanced at the sheaf of notes in the maid’s hand. “It’s only a quarter past ten. Could so much happen so early?” Claris nodded and decided to get the bad news over first. “Sir Cedric called this morning. It’s the Archduke. He says that the Arch Duke wants you to join him in London, my lady.”

  She saw Camellia’s body stiffen, and she saw the protective veil descend over her green-flecked eyes.

  “That’s not possible,” Camellia said. “Not with everything that needs my attention here….” She gestured at the sheaf of papers Claris held. “I can’t leave now…. Let me talk to Sir Cedric first.”

  Claris kept her voice soft but firm. “You know you can’t handle this without going to London, my Lady. Sir Cedric’s call wasn’t put as a request….he was leaving for Oxford this morning but he’ll be back in three days. He wants you to see him when he returns and arrange your schedule.”

  There was both surprise and reprieve written on Camellia’s face. Surprise at her maid’s uncompromising attitude and reprieve that she would have three days in which to come up with something. “Yes, well, of course I’ll see him, just as soon as he returns. I’m sure I can work from here. Sir Cedric is a reasonable man.”

  Claris said, “He’s reasonable all right. But what excuse can you give him that he can consider reasonable, my Lady?”

  “Why….the problems I have here. Sir Cedric knows that the Arch Duke isn’t my only worry.”
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  Claris had to push Camellia; Sir Cedric will be all right. He has his aid full time. I’ll check in on him for you. You have to make this trip.”

  “Sir Cedric? What does Sir Cedric have to do with this?” There was panic in her eyes. “It’s the other problems….I….” She could not continue. There was no anger in her voice and suddenly Claris realized that Camellia probably had not talked to anyone since the accident about the state of her marriage.

  “My Lady,” Claris said softly. “I’ve seen what these past two years have done to you. You can’t continue like this….it isn’t normal. You’re only human. You are going to wind up destroying yourself…..and your vast plantations along with you.”

  Camellia felt the panic rise…it was all too much. But she couldn’t confide in anyone. It was too hurtful, too personal. She forced a deep breath into her lungs and calm into her voice. “Claris, you’re a wonderful friend, but really this is not something that I can talk about. Not now.”

  Camellia frantically searched her mind for something for Claris to do for her. “I’ve had a headache all morning. Would you hold my callers until I tell you to send them through?”

  “Certainly, my Lady.” If Camellia wanted time alone, she would have it. “Take all the time you need.”

  Sir Cedric sat in his wheelchair, waiting for Camellia to come home. He felt a mixture of panic and relief. This was it. It was his first chance for an honest confrontation. He hoped he would handle it well. He hoped he could be a man from the waist up, but felt as if someone had poured ice water down his spine when he heard her at the front door.

  Sir Cedric took a deep breath as she entered the room carrying a pitcher of milk and two large silver containers. Her smile was brave, but her face showed the strain of a day he knew had been difficult. She looked so very vulnerable. “Busy day?” he asked.