“A lady in the ballroom…” she began, but stopped abruptly before finishing the adage some of her friends had taken to heart in their own marriages.
“… And a harlot in the bedroom?” He chuckled at her chagrin. “You are not quite as naïve as you let on, are you? However the context of the original quote has changed quite a bit as it's made the rounds through the clubs and gossip circles. It is actually from a Yank’s anti-suffrage sermon some years back declaring a woman’s place is in the home. It’s not nearly as sensational as you and your friends thought, I’m sure.” He laughed and pulled her close in an affectionate hug as she blushed prettily.
“You are very well-read, Andrew. Sometimes I feel like such a ninny around you.”
“Nonsense, you undoubtedly spent your time reading gothic thrillers and penny dreadfuls, while I was immersed in philosophy, literature and law books which are full of history.” He was teasing her but she took mild offense.
“Papa educated me in the classics, I’ll have you know. I just can’t spout off quotes as quickly as you can, husband. ”
“I was but teasing, sweetheart.”
“Well then… I may not be worldly or well-travelled, and I am certainly not as old as you are, but I am also well read. I have even read “Arabian Nights.” ”
“And where would a young girl have gotten a copy of that? It is quite erotic in nature as I remember.”
“I hate to say and condemn your sister, dearest husband, but I believe she got it from your library.”
He burst out laughing, as he imagined his wife and sister titillated by some of the racy tales. “Leave it to Maggie to corrupt my wife, before I even had the chance to meet her.” Closing his eyes he shook his head in dismay when he thought of all the trouble the two could get into together. He opened his eyes to see Cici imitate his wink and give him a saucy grin.
Unable to keep from smiling in return, he wondered aloud, “How did we get on this unsuitable topic? Ah yes, we were discussing your inappropriate quote about ladies and harlots, ballrooms and bedrooms.”
He was a well-educated member of parliament, used to arguing politics in the House of Lords and she felt woefully ill-equipped to compete with him in a verbal debate, but she challenged him all the same. “I said nothing about harlots and bedrooms, if you’ll recall. That was you.”
“Yours was implied, Cici my dear. As for the lady and the harlot; one is a necessity while the other… Well, let’s just say that having both would give me the best of both worlds and make me the luckiest of husbands.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and pulled her onto his lap.
As he cuddled her close, his hands began to wander, caressing and teasing her until one found its way under her skirts. Kissing her in distraction, he lifted the hem of her riding gown and the single petticoat. When he felt the drawers that started with a gathering just below her knee, he prayed that she wore the old fashioned kind that remained open at the juncture of the thighs. He smiled against her throat as his fingers sought out and gratefully found the open seam. Slipping his hand inside, he barely got to touch her warm wetness before she started to wiggle and protest on his lap.
“You cannot mean for us to, uh… fornicate out here where anyone could come by! It is broad daylight.”
“No one is around, sweetheart. We are in a very secluded area on private property. Now relax and let me make you soar with pleasure again.”
“No Andrew.” Tears began to gather at the thought of her disgrace if someone passing by while Andrew had her stripped bare on the stone bench. “Please, I would be mortified.”
He paused, seeing her distress. Without moving his hand from the treasure he had found, he eased her to a sitting position on the bench and knelt before her. Cupping her cheek in his free hand, he whisked away her tears with his thumb. “Hush now. I have no intention of causing you humiliation. Rest assured we have privacy here. Would it ease your mind if I told you we could find our pleasure without removing our clothing?”
“That’s not possible, you’re teasing again.” Cici protested as she wiped away her remaining tears. She hated crying in front of him, but couldn’t help it. The things he wanted to do to her… and outside of all places.
“I promise not to remove any part of your dress.” As he made his deal with his new bride, his hands continued to play. Despite her protests, she was dripping with excitement. Before she could utter another word he had two fingers fully embedded within her.
“Does that feel good sweetness, any lingering soreness?”
Quickly losing her will to protest, she parted her thighs a little more and arched against his magical fingers, silently answering his question. Her reward was Andrew’s thumb and another finger adding to the play. His broad thumb swept out and around her swelling nub.
“Really Andrew, we mustn’t do this here.” This feeble protest was whispered as a sultry exhalation. As she began to writhe beneath his hand, he knew he had this game won.
“But I insist, my sweet. Now spread those legs and let us enjoy our honeymoon.” That said, he flipped up her skirts and exposed her from the waist down. He groaned at the erotic sight of his hand inside her pristine white drawers with just a glimpse of her plump, wet lips visible between the seam. Both hands rose and ripped the material, widening the seam enough so he had full access to the part of her he craved.
“I’m going to taste you now, Cici. If someone should come along, which they won’t, just flip down your skirts.” He then proceeded to kiss her intimately. Andrew’s talented lips and tongue soon had her forgetting that she sat with her legs sprawled wide in an open clearing while he devoured her. He kept his fingers constantly driving in and out of her tight channel. When he felt her thigh muscles tense and her inner muscles clench greedily at his fingers, he knew she was ready.
Rising to his knees, he efficiently released himself and positioned his length at her entrance. Being cautious with her newly initiated body, he pressed firmly but gently into her heat and possessed her once again. Once seated, he pulled her to the edge of the bench and guided her legs around his waist. Standing, he reversed their positions until he was seated with her astride his thighs. As he sat he moved deeper into her and Cici gasped in surprise.
She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly into his gorgeous blue eyes. She could feel him deeply embedded in her core. Although she was a bit tender, the sensation of tingling and fullness that she felt last night returned and she had an overwhelming need to move. Tentatively, she shifted against him and was rewarded by a flare of heat between her thighs and an answering groan from Andrew.
She watched a grin spread over his handsome face. “That’s it Cici, move against me and take charge of your pleasure. It won’t happen often so take advantage of it while you can.” He winked at her, but his smug grin changed as she moved up higher. This time taking more of him as her weight pushed her back down. He groaned louder and clasped his hands around her waist as she moved above him. When she rose above him again, she felt more confident and slid almost completely off him, leaving just the head of his shaft lodged inside her. Watching the pleasure pass over his face, she paused above him. It was her turn to grin.
Andrew eagerly awaited her return glide down his aching shaft but when it didn’t come, he opened his eyes to see what was amiss. He was greeted by her teasing grin.
“Oh Cici, my teasing little imp, you are delightfully naughty and a very quick learner.”
He then shifted his hands under her skirt and a loud ripping sound was heard as he eliminated her already shredded drawers, the only barrier between his hands and her glorious backside. Gripping her full cheeks firmly, he squeezed as he pulled her down, sheathing himself in her incredibly moist heat. “Now I want you to ride me,” he whispered hoarsely, his desire for her written clearly across his face. His experienced hands quickly taught her the rhythm as they both took their pleasure.
Afterward, they cuddled together, content in one another’s company.
When it was time to remount, Cici was dismayed to find her drawers destroyed. She found sitting a horse extremely uncomfortable without the cotton to protect her tender skin.
“You are extremely hard on a ladies undergarments, husband.” But grumbling and fussing at Andrew did no good. He merely laughed as he wadded up her ruined drawers and shoved them into his jacket pocket, promising boldly to soothe any abraded skin later with his tongue. It was well on to noon before they remounted to finish their tour.
Andrew headed for home, taking her by the tenth century stone church that was well maintained and still in use by the locals. Nearby was the vicarage and to Cici’s dismay they came across the vicar and his wife strolling in the lane outside their home as they passed.
She sucked in her stomach and fussed with her skirts as the older couple approached to greet their Lord and his new Lady. Cici sat her horse stiffly, acutely aware that she was lacking certain undergarments. The couple was charming, but Cici’s fear of exposure kept conversation to a minimum and she shot her husband a scathing look when they turned to point out their garden. He shook off her glare with an answering wink and a grin that was just this side of a leer. She would forgive the rotten scoundrel with his handsome face and lighthearted manner, but it would take some time.
So it was the vicar and his wife stared curiously after the pair. The lady was wearing the oddest expression as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her skirts from flapping as they trotted away. The Lord found this vastly amusing and couldn’t contain his laughter as they turned their horses toward home.
Chapter Eight
Arriving back at the manor they found their short idyllic interlude abruptly cut short by some tragic news. A messenger solemnly awaited Andrew in the form of his best friend Duncan, the Earl of Rothbury. They entered his study and not fifteen minutes later a solemn Andrew emerged. As he passed her in the entryway before proceeding up the stairs, he delivered a terse order. “We leave for town in an hour lady, get packed.”
Stunned, she looked at Rothbury in concern. His expression solemn he nodded sympathetically. “I’d recommend you hurry Your Grace; he is a stickler for promptness. I will inform your butler.”
As she hurried up the stairs, he stared after her waiting to see if it would sink in. She paused and turned halfway up. “Did you say Your Grace?”
“Yes, I am the sad bearer of unfortunate news. His brother James, the former Duke of Sommerville died in a shooting accident yesterday. The Dowager Duchess is en route from Paris; he will need to be there when she arrives.”
“The poor woman, I can't imagine losing a husband and son in the same year.” Looking up the stairs after her husband, she thought about Andrew and poor Maggie. My gracious, how is she coping?
She fled to her chamber, calling instructions to her maid and sending for additional housemaids to help her. She waited until they had arrived and were set upon their tasks before crossing through the sitting room and knocking on her husband’s door.
“Come.”
She crossed the threshold into his chamber for the first time. She barely noticed the massive bed or the darkly masculine décor as her eyes sought out the form of her husband. She found him sitting in a large leather chair in front of the cold fireplace.
“Rothbury told me, Andrew.” She approached him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am so very sorry.” When she turned her hand to stroke his thick wavy hair, his arms came up and wrapped around her as he buried his face in her full bosom. She curled around him, trying ineffectually to absorb some of his pain and take it upon herself.
“He was only thirty years old. His life had just begun.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head and held him close, comforting without words. There were no words at a time like this. “Mama will be inconsolable. And Maggie, she was devastated when papa died, and now to lose James only nine months later.”
“What can I do? I’ll do anything.” Tears rolled down his face as she held her strong husband, his grief emanating from his tense body.
“Just your being here helps me, Cici. Your warmth, your essence is comfort alone.”
The next few days were the longest of her life. The funeral was held five days later at the Sommerville ducal estate, but Andrew had to travel to London to attend him first. The Duke’s body then had to be transported from town, and messengers dispatched to notify out of town friends and family of the fatal accident. On the day of the funeral, a huge gathering of mourners overflowed the Sommerville church. The ceremony was led by the Bishop and speakers included a few close friends and the heir, His Grace, the Ninth Duke of Sommerville.
The procession from the church to the family cemetery was a spectacle to behold. The hearse was drawn by six matched black horses festooned with ostrich plumes. The livery was in black velvet with matching coverings for the carriage and horses. Through the glass sides of the hearse, the elaborate ducal coffin could be seen. Its inscription plate was golden with the crimson velvet covering bearing the Dukes name and the Sommerville family crest respectively. The Sommerville colors of crimson and black were worn by no less than a dozen pages and four coachmen who accompanied the funeral cortege and the two carriages carrying the immediate family.
On arrival at the cemetery, the pallbearers numbered a dozen, six to carry the elaborate coffin and the others, older gentleman that acted as honorary bearers. After following the casket up the marble stairs into the large family mausoleum, Andrew assisted his grief-stricken mother to a seat in the receiving area. He left the escort of his sister and wife to his male cousins. After they were seated he took his place by his wife’s side, eschewing a seat to stand rigid and stoic by her side. The crypt would soon house a total of eight former Dukes of Sommerville and seven former Duchesses. Someday Andrew and Cici would be entombed here as well. It was eerily morbid to say the least. Among the mourners crowding into the building were observers from the Upper Ten Thousand.
It seemed to Cici that at least half of them had come to attend. They were like greedy vultures ready to swoop in and scavenge the latest bit of gossip or the slightest breach in etiquette so they could carry it back to town. Damn them all.
The new duke hated the tradition for elaborate public displays, especially in the case of a wealthy and powerful aristocrat. But he knew his role and although a second son, he had been trained for the day he had to step up and lead the family and the Duchy itself. But never had he imagined the day would actually come. He had to get through the next few hours, help his mother and sister, being strong for his women. Then later, he could turn to his Cecilia for comfort and solace. He was amazed at how important she had become to him in such a short time.
Sometime during the ceremony, the new duchess was observed reaching up to grasp the duke’s hand. Despite the breach in protocol, Cici was determined to provide her husband with support. At the same, time she tightly gripped her sister-in-law's hand on the other side. This little connection, the small human touch while in the dregs of sorrow and despair was a lifeline for them all. Maggie in turn reached out to her mother. They presented a unified front to their family, friends and curious guests and onlookers. Although in deep mourning, the Sommerville family showed impeccable restraint and strength in this oddly public venue.
After the ceremony, the mourners proceeded to the estate where they ate and drank their fill. They murmured trite platitudes to the grieving family who simply wanted them gone so that they could grieve in private. But appearances were crucial and traditions time-honored, so the day crept interminably by.
It was late evening when the houseguests either retired to their rooms or left for their lodgings. Only then was the family able to find a few minutes of quiet in their own home. The turnout had been so large that all the inns and lodging houses in the area were full. Cici’s parents and her sister had made the trip from town to pay their respects and support the family. They and several other guests were staying at the estate while others were staying with friends and neighbors loca
lly. As the family gathered in the parlor for a few private moments, the servants quietly and efficiently removed the clutter and chaos left over from the wake and the numerous houseguests.
Catherine, the dowager, sat on the settee with her daughter and her remaining son flanking her. She held their hands and looked at each in turn. “My darlings, please for my sake be careful, vigilant and mindful of your safety. I don’t know that I can bear to bury another child.” She then looked at her new daughter-in-law, “Cecilia dear, would you be so kind as to ring for Lady Conaway, my companion. I think I am going to retire to my rooms.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Cici said as she rushed to comply with her mother-in-law's request.
The dowager eyed her son at the formality among family. “You are going to have to fix that, my son. You know how I feel about standing on ceremony at home.”
“I’m trying mother, but she is either very forgetful or frighteningly stubborn.”
Cici was aghast and stopped mid-step as returning from her task, overheard the tail end of their conversation. Despite her grief, Andrew’s mother smiled at her expression. “Sit dear, you’ll learn our little idiosyncrasies soon enough.”
Andrew watched his mother with concern when minutes later she left with her companion. Lady Conaway was a dear friend who was also widowed. Andrew’s mother had been traveling with her when the news arrived. Andrew was grateful that she had her friend for support not beginning to imagine how she would have handled it otherwise. Although a strong woman, she had always needed a strong man to be complete. He worried about her. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties, and he hoped she could find another husband.
Andrew’s eyes fell on his sister, who appeared haggard and drawn. She was very young to have experienced such grief in the course of the past year. He’d like to see her married and settled as well. She had only recently come out of deep mourning and was just returning to the social scene and the marriage mart. Now, she would be back in mourning for at least another six months. His eyes moved on to the young woman at her side. She had slipped into his mother’s vacated seat and wrapped a comforting arm around Maggie’s shoulders. His sister’s face was relaxed and serene for the first time in days as she rested against her friend with eyes closed. His Cici had a gift. She was warm and giving, earnest in her care for others. With a simple touch, a smile, or gesture she set others at ease. His eyes rose from their joined hands to their heads, one fair and the other vibrant red. His eyes swept up to his wife’s face and found she was watching him as well. Although selfish to deprive his sister of comfort, he wanted to be the one wrapped in her arms.
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