Two Dukes and a Lady

by Lorna James

  “Lily, my love,” William gasped and then hot liquid filled her mouth. Earthy and salty, the thickness coated her throat. She swallowed the best that she could, but some leaked out. Especially as her own release hit her with the force of a carriage wreck.

  She shouted her pleasure as Charles pounded into her so fast and hard she thought she would shake apart. He roared when he came and then thrust into her three more rough times, while growling her name.

  William sank down on the floor next to her. He fingered her still-sensitive folds and she gasped. “So very wet. Let me give you a taste of what you were asking for.”

  “William,” Charles warned. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “I can’t leave her curious.”

  Charles’s member, still hard, throbbed inside her.

  William’s big hands spread her backside wide and when his finger touched the sensitive area between her cheeks, Lily shivered. His finger was coated in her wetness. “Is this proper?”

  Her body tightened at his dark chuckle.

  “Gods,” Charles said between his teeth.

  The little circles William made felt odd. She moved restlessly against Charles.

  “Lily.” Charles growled a warning.

  “Don’t know what you want?” William crooned and tucked his finger inside her bottom.

  “Oh,” she cried out, unsure if she liked it or not. But if this was what they wanted, well, she supposed it wasn’t all bad.

  “Damn it, William. That’s enough.”

  “Very well.” William sighed, and with one last tickle that made her catch her breath, he slapped her bottom lightly.

  “Are we done?” She pouted.

  “God save me.” Charles pulled out of her and she felt empty and bereft.

  “You were magnificent, my Tiger Lily.” William kissed her. “I only wish we had more time. I need to leave you now to ward off anyone who might have heard us. Charles will help you clean up. And then you must depart separately, so our guests don’t get suspicious. But we are going to do this again tonight. You’ll be servicing Charles this time, while I take your sweet quim.”

  Lily shivered at his dirty talk.

  “Then we may do it all over again for a third time.” He kissed her and then stood up. “Charles, there should be some water in the pitcher and basin over there.”

  “I remember where everything is.”

  “Be quick. There’s still the final dance and the cutting of the cake.”

  Charles fell back against the carpet. “As soon as I can stand again.”

  Chapter Ten

  William wasn’t surprised that Richilde lingered as the rest of the guests left. He saw Charles and Lily off into his carriage. Lily had either an attack of nerves or else they were pushing her too hard. She begged off any further play because of a headache. But William wasn’t sure if that was the case. Perhaps he had gone too far, touching her so intimately. He could have scared her away with what some women called his perversion.

  Charles claimed he was going to drop her off home and then return to his own house. But William didn’t believe him. If it had been him, he would spend the night in his lover’s bed. Folding his arms, he leaned against the stone archway and glared into the darkness until he could no longer see the carriage. What if Lily didn’t have a headache after all?

  “It’s late, Richilde,” he said, sensing her coming up behind him.

  “It’s not too late.” She linked arms with him.

  He removed her arm, kissing her hand distractedly. “I have a pounding headache, my dear. Can I send a carriage for you?”

  “I can ease your headache,” she said. “But not your heartache.”

  William gave a half shrug. “It is what it is.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that once Charles and Lily were married, he would lose both his best friend and his only love. He cursed the luck of the coin toss that favored Charles instead of him. If he had been her fiancé, he would be tucking her into bed right now, headache or not.

  “I don’t like how Charles has been treating you. I’m saying this as a friend.”

  William just stared out in the distance, as if he could determine whether Charles had lied or not. “I appreciate that, my dear.”

  “My husband is not well,” she said.

  Remembering his manners, William straightened and turned to her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She hid her face behind her fan. “He’s dying. Each day he eats less and less and he’s coughing up blood. I fear I will be a widow by the end of the year.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s a good man.”

  “He knows about my dalliances. He doesn’t care, you know. He encourages them.” Richilde gave a half laugh. “Where will I find another like him?”

  “Maybe you won’t.” William winced when he saw her face fall in devastation. “Forgive me. I didn’t think. I am not fit for company right now, I’m afraid.”

  “Please know, that when you are abandoned, I will always be here for you.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, and handed her off to a footman.

  Long after the last of his guests had left, William couldn’t sleep. It was eating him up alive that Charles and Lily were together. Taking his carriage, he got as close as he dared to Lily’s house and walked the rest of the way. A few reprobates thought he was an easy mark, but they thought better of it when they got close enough to realize he was neither drunk nor infirm. He came across the secret door at Lily’s home. Making sure no one was about, he slipped inside. William hated himself for this doubt, yet he knew he would not sleep a wink unless he knew for certain if Charles lied about only enjoying Lily together with him.

  Silently, he crept up the stairs avoiding the creaking boards. William opened the door to Lily’s bedchamber and eased inside. In the complete darkness, he made his way to her bed by memory. Staring down at her by the foot of the bed, he saw Lily alone, curled up on her side.

  Shame filled him and he shook his head. He had never doubted Charles before in all his life, and yet he didn’t trust him when it came to Lily. Unable to resist, he knelt by the head of the best and stroked the hair from her face.

  “I love you,” he breathed and kissed her forehead. “Would that you were my wife.”

  “William?” Lily sighed, not quite awake, but still reaching for him.

  Realizing he couldn’t do what he, in his mind, had condemned Charles for doing, he merely brushed his lips over hers.

  “William.” She moaned happily and fell back to sleep.

  He considered shedding his clothes and slipping into bed next to her. He needed to feel her in his arms. He wanted to wake her up by making love to her, yet the guilt would eat at him if he did.

  “When did this become so complicated?” he asked, and then made the lonely trek back home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lily had never been happier, which she supposed should have been a warning that something was bound to go amiss. When her butler informed her that there was a gentleman at her door seeking the widow of George Drew, she only felt satisfaction that she would finally be able to confront the blackmailer once and for all.

  When Frances escorted him in, Lily forced a smile on her face. But when her eyes rose to meet the stranger, every muscle in her body locked. It was the man who George had met on the night of his murder. She’d never forget those cold, reptilian eyes.

  He bowed slightly in front of her and said, “Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mrs. Drew.”

  She gave him a tight nod and considered screaming for help, but only George’s warehouse foreman had seen her that night. She forced herself to breathe normally. This man had no idea that she had witnessed when George had given him fake ledgers in exchange for a satchel. The satchel had not been with her husband’s body when it was found.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting a visitor.”

  “May I come in?”

&nb
sp; He was already in the front hallway, so she led him into the front parlor. “Frances, will you please take this man’s hat?”

  He sat stiffly on the red silk stuffed sofa, while she faced him in a matching armchair.

  “I suppose you know why I am here?” he asked.

  “I haven’t a clue, although I am sure it has something to do with my dead husband.” She was comforted that her servants were close enough to allow her some security should this man decide to slit her throat as well.

  “My letters never reached you?”

  “I…” She really was at a loss for words. How could she confess that she ignored most of them? What if he wasn’t the blackmailer? She should have opened the letters sooner.

  “Your husband mishandled cargo of mine.”

  “My husband has been dead for over two years,” she said, nervously fidgeting with a doily on the table next to her.

  “I must be blunt, Mrs. Drew. He stole property and money. Not only from me, but from very powerful men.”

  Lily swallowed hard. “I see.”

  “Unfortunately, he died before making things right. And I no longer wish to hold his marker.”

  “His marker?” she asked.

  “His son.”

  Lily’s hands went to her midsection. “I have no son.” Her heart sank and she felt physically ill.

  “I daresay if the brat had been legitimate, we would have had our money by now. As it is, I’m done with being a babysitter to that hellion. He’s your problem now.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a locket with an oval portrait of a smiling boy in a suit. “I have a photograph.” He looked just like George, and what she imagined her own son, Edgar, would have looked like today. Maybe four years old. Almost the same age as Edgar would have been. She began to cry.

  “What’s his name?” Lily whispered.

  “George.”

  Lily flinched.

  “Fifty thousand pounds or I go to the papers.”

  He had raised the price. I guess that’s what happens when you are no longer a poor widow, but a soon-to be duchess. She felt numb. She would have to ask Charles for the money. There was not that much in her accounts.

  “The boy will be brought round to you in the morning.”

  “What?” Lily looked up in shock.

  “You don’t expect that I’ll continue to look after him.”

  Wiping her tears, she said, “I don’t have the first idea of how to take care of a child.”

  George had said she would make a terrible mother, and that it had been for the best that she lost Edgar. And all along he had made another child with a woman who wasn’t his wife. This could not be happening.

  “What of the boy’s mother?” Lily asked. Surely, she was worried about her missing child.

  “Dead.”

  Lily drew in a terrified breath. “Did you kill her?”

  “Childbirth did. On your husband’s ship. It seemed she was paying for her passage on her back.”

  Lily would not faint. She would not swoon. She forced deep breaths through her handkerchief that certainly were not sobs. How could George do that? She closed her eyes. At this point, why was any horrid thing he did a surprise?

  “Her family?” she whispered.

  “How should I know?” The man stood up and snapped his fingers for his hat and gloves.

  “I have no relation to this poor boy.” Lily swooned as she stood up, but she forced her knees to lock.

  “That’s not my problem. I have to get my money back one way or another. Through you, or through whoever I can sell this lurid story to.”

  “I don’t have fifty thousand pounds,” she said, when his demands finally pushed past her grief.

  He shrugged. “What happened to your husband was because he cheated the wrong men. I’d hate to see you and the boy reach the same fate. You’re marrying very well, Mrs. Drew. I’m sure we can come up with an arrangement.”

  “You must understand that this is a shock,” Lily stammered. “I-I am not prepared for a child, nor an output of payment like the one you have suggested.”

  The man stood up. “Very well. I’m sure your fiancé is better prepared.”

  “Wait,” she said, panicking. If Charles’s brother got wind of this, it could be disastrous. She had to be the one to tell him. “Please, let me see what I can come up with.”

  “I’m not an unreasonable man. You have two days to get me the money or an installment that we’ve agreed upon. The boy, however, will be your responsibility come tomorrow morning.” He gave her a mocking bow before retrieving his hat and leaving.

  Lily pressed her hands to her face. Her cheeks were hot, but she was shaking with cold. Stuffing a pillow in her face, the hidden grief of her own child, Edgar, and the poor babe’s situation overwhelmed her. She allowed herself a moment to cry before commanding herself to pull it together. She would not let George destroy her life from beyond the grave. And she certainly would not let his filthy antics touch Charles or William.

  Yet, she could not turn her back on the child. It could have been her own son. Might very well have been, if Edgar had been born alive. The poor, kidnapped boy. She could only hope that he hadn’t been abused. There was no way she was going to let him go to an orphanage. He was George’s son, and now he was her responsibility.

  But her dukes didn’t want a child. She would have to find a way to convince them, but first she needed time to get her wits back. Lily took a deep breath and asked her maid to get her some stationary. She sent notes to Charles and William that under no circumstances were they to come over this week, because she was sick with something temporary but very contagious. Meanwhile, she would hire a nanny and contemplate the best way to handle the situation.

  When little George arrived, Lily had planned on hardening her heart against him. She would be pleasant and fair, but she would find him a place to live with a loving couple. He couldn’t stay with her.

  But when he walked in, looking so lost and so broken, her heart wobbled.

  “Are you my new mommy?” he asked.

  And with that, Lily was lost.

  The situation might have worked out, somehow, if the Countess Hainaut and Lady Penn hadn’t barged in like they owned the place.

  “Darling, I heard you were sick, so we came right over.” Clara entered Lily’s drawing room like a general ready to do battle.

  Lily and little George had been cuddled up on the couch reading from a picture book. He was bright for such a little one.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Maeve said. “I tried to stop them.”

  “Who is this?” Richilde said, her smile frozen on her face.

  “It’s all right, Maeve,” Lily said. “Why don’t you take George into the kitchen for a snack?”

  The boy dutifully followed the maid out of the room. Lily closed the door behind her.

  “What is going on here?” Richilde folded her arms over her ample chest.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re both here.” If ever Lily needed female advice, it was now. She was grateful for her friends. “Please sit. Have some tea. I’m in a terrible position.”

  “You poor dear,” Clara said. “Shall we notify the dukes?”

  “No,” Richilde said quickly. “At least, not yet. Not until you tell us everything. I don’t recall any mention of you having a child.”

  “He’s not mine,” Lily said.

  “Of course not,” Clara said, shooting Richilde a warning look.

  Richilde shrugged it off. “After all, snagging a duke with another man’s son is much more difficult than if one was unattached.”

  “It’s not like that.” Lily was horrified the countess was jumping to all the wrong conclusions. But wouldn’t that be how the rest of the ton would react? “You both must listen to me.”

  “Of course we will,” Clara soothed.

  Lily blurted out the entire story. It took two pots of tea, and afterward Lily felt like she had been through a war. At the end, Clara sat dumb
founded, while Richilde absently fanned herself, lost in thought.

  “What are you thinking?” Lily asked, meekly.

  Taking a deep breath in, Richilde said, “I have to be brutally honest, my dear.”

  Clara winced and held Lily’s hand.

  Lily swallowed hard.

  “Charles will never accept the child.”

  Reeling as if she had been struck, Lily stammered, “B-but it’s not as if I’ve deceived him.”

  “I’m afraid that even if he believes you, Society at large won’t. Now, he is a duke and normally can make his own rules, but in this case, he will suffer,” Clara said.

  “Sebastian will use this to torment him.” Richilde nodded. “Charles will be humiliated.”

  “We can survive this,” Lily said with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  “Then there’s the matter of the boy’s parentage. If you are not George’s mother—”

  “I’m not,” Lily said hotly.

  “Yes, I know. He doesn’t have your coloring,” Clara said, patting her arm.

  “Bastard sons of dukes happen, but this would be a nightmare.” Richilde shook her head.

  “He’s a little boy.” Lily didn’t see him as a nightmare. His parents were dead, and she was all he had left.

  “Then there’s the rift between Charles and William.”

  Clara clucked her tongue at the countess.

  “What rift?” Lily stammered.

  Richilde shrugged. “A child would be a responsibility that would put an additional wedge between them. I fear that their friendship wouldn’t survive this.”

  “No.” Lily looked to Lady Penn, but Clara’s eyes slid away. “You could, of course, make arrangements for the boy to go to a childless couple in the countryside. If you pay them, they could raise the boy. After all, he is a stranger to you.”

  Maybe before they met, he was.

  Sinking back against on the couch, she cradled the picture book to her chest. She loved both Charles and William so much it hurt. She would just have to tell them about George and that she planned to raise him as her child. If Charles loved her, everything should be fine. There were ways to mitigate a scandal. William would be fine with the child taking away some of their time together.