by Matilda Hart
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font
The firefly wakens, waken thou with me
Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me
Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars
And all thy heart lies open unto me
Now slides the silent meteor on
And leaves a shining furrow
As thy thoughts in me
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up
And slips into the bosom of the lake
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me
As the piano faded away, the room was silent, and I could hear audible sniffling noises as ladies wiped away their tears. The applause came after a moment more, and Sophie finally rose from the pianoforte. Before I could realize what was happening, the Duke himself had strode over to us and had taken a hold of our hands. His voice was choked with emotion when he spoke, and it echoed through the dining room. “Ladies, what a triumph, I have never received a better birthday gift. Thank you.”
The applause washed over us and Sophie and I basked in its warmth. For my part, I was concentrating on the feel of the Duke’s large hand on mine, my small fingers completely enveloped in his. “You must come and sit with me. My guests are eager to meet you. No doubt you will be invited to London very soon.” He smiled at me, and I felt my knees grow weak. The Duke was devastatingly handsome, especially up close. He squeezed my hand briefly and pulled me towards the table. Sophie had already settled herself next to the Baronet, and took the glass of wine he offered her, turning her most coquettish smile his way. “Come.” I would have followed him anywhere.
A chair was brought for me, and His Grace gestured for me to sit next to him. The wine and conversation flowed, and before I knew what was happening, the fact that I hadn’t eaten any supper made the wine I had drunk hit me that much stronger. All at once, the room was too warm and I wished that I had a fan to wave away the heat. “I… I need…” the Duke was instantly at my ear. “I need to go to my room…. I’m sorry, your Grace but the wine…” he nodded and pulled me to my feet. I leaned heavily against him and giggled drunkenly as he led me away from the table. I knew that people were watching us, but I didn’t care.
We walked together down the hall, not speaking, but I wasn’t sure how much of a conversation I could carry on at this point. All I wanted was to get out of this confection of a dress and curl up in bed until the next day dawned. Maybe the day after that. His Grace led me up a flight of richly carpeted stairs, and I clung to the bannister for dear life as we ascended. I had never been up any stairs in Barclay House before… had I? The Duke led me down a hall hung with massive portraits, but they were all blurry to me. The farther we walked, the surer I was that we weren’t anywhere near my room, in fact, I was certain of it.
He paused to open a large wooden door, and led me inside. The first words out of my mouth were indignant and obvious, “This isn’t my room.” My words were slurred by the wine, but I could feel the warm glow of the alcohol melting away as the realization dawned on me that I was alone with the Duke, and no one knew where I was... or worse yet; they all knew. “No… no, I need to get back to my room. Please take me back to my room, your Grace.” He smiled at me and walked across the thick carpet towards a cabinet that held a collection of cognac and bottles of unopened wine.
His Grace plucked a bottle of wine from the cabinet and opened it deftly with a gleaming silver corkscrew. He poured two glasses of dark red wine and came back across the room towards her. He held out a glass to me, but I hesitated for a long moment before taking the glass from his gracefully tapered fingers. “Your Grace…” he chuckled lightly and held up a hand.
“Please, call me Duncan. No one ever calls me that anymore, and for some reason, I want to hear it from your lips most of all.” My mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Your servant,
D.
I gulped and closed my mouth… it was all too much. The room was opulent but still understated. The teakwood bed gleamed darkly in the candlelight, the duvet and covers plush and deep. The bed… oh no. I couldn’t be here.
“I can’t… your Grace. This isn’t my room. I need…. I need to…” I wasn’t making any sense, but I don’t know how anyone in my position would have been making any sense if this had been happening to them. His Grace stepped closer to me, and I found myself inhaling his clean, masculine scent, so different from George, and yet so familiar and comforting… and alluring. His eyes were hypnotic, and my words died in my throat.
His hand reached out to stroke my cheek and I tried not to flinch, “Please, my dearest Charlotte. Relax. You are correct, this is not your room. This is my room.”
Chapter 11
Oh no. The Duke’s room? My eyes swept the room quickly, looking for an escape, but His Grace was standing directly in the way of the door, and there was no way I would be able to overpower him. I pulled away from his hand and tried to distract myself from looking at the massive four poster bed, the luxurious coverlets and mountains of pillows... this was a room made for seduction. I nervously sipped at my wine and His Grace gestured at a small divan in front of the fire, encouraging me to sit. I nodded briefly and sank to the edge of the silken cushions, perched carefully, ready to dash for the door if anything untoward happened.
His Grace settled himself beside me, taking a sip of his own wine and leaning back against the arm of the divan.
“Charlotte.” The sound of my name on his lips thrilled me to the bone. “I’m so glad that you came to stay here at Barclay House, and to see you in such good health. When I found you… you were so close to death.” His voice was clouded with emotion and I looked up in surprise, but he was looking at the crackling fire and not at me. “But to see you tonight in all your glory…” his voice faded away and his eyes met mine, and I was shocked to see such a force of emotion in them as to make my breath catch in my throat. I looked quickly at my silk covered knees, I couldn’t let him see how his emotion had affected me.
“But, you are here for a different reason, are you not? Tell me about your husband, ma petite. Tell me everything, his family, how you met… everything.” I looked up at him in surprise. He smiled encouragingly at me over the rim of his wine glass and I swallowed hard. With a shaking voice I told him everything. Meeting George at the Regimental ball, the day of our wedding… I told him everything. His Grace listened attentively, asking me questions and coaxing me to share more information with him that I had even shared with Sophie. I don’t know why, but the words just flowed out of my mouth, and the tears with them.
The Duke reached out and wiped the tears from my cheeks with the pad of his thumb. His touch was gentle and I found myself leaning into his hand.
“What do you want in life, Charlotte. What do you dream of?” His hand caressed my face, and his dark blue eyes bored into mine. I licked my lips quickly, nervously.
“No one… no one has ever asked me that before.” He smiled slowly and pulled his hand away, watching me casually, fully aware of the distress he was causing me.
“Well… I’m asking, Charlotte.” I took a sip of wine, my hand shaking ever so slightly. I swallowed carefully, weighing my answer, and wondering how much I dared to say to someone like him.
“I’ve never thought beyond finding a husband and beginning a family, Your Gra..” he gave me a stern look and I corrected myself, “Duncan.” His name rolled off my tongue like a butterscotch candy, and I stumbled over my next words. “Nothing else is expected of women like me. We are taught to sing, to play, to discuss literature, and to run a household… but nothing more. I don’t know what there is for me if I don’t have those things. If George… if he falls in battle… I don’t know what my life will be.” The Duke shook his head.
“Come now, Ch
arlotte… anything. If you could do anything… Forget Mr. Rutledge for a moment, perhaps longer… What would you do?” I drained my wineglass and the Duke rose to fetch the bottle. I watched as he refilled it, and his dark blue eyes were locked on mine while he poured.
“I would sing.” I blurted it out, not caring what the consequences would be. It was true; I did want to sing. The wine took hold and my tongue ran away with my thoughts, “I want to sing in London. I want to sing and travel and see the world. I don’t just want to go to the dirty parts of India and the Empire where I’m terrified to drink the water and the insects can kill me…” The Duke began to laugh. I covered my mouth in embarrassment, but His Grace pulled my hand away and pressed his lips to mine. His hand caressed my neck, pulling me closer to him. I moaned against his lips; I had never been kissed like this.
My mouth opened under his and I felt his lips soften against mine as our tongues briefly touched. My goblet of wine fell to the carpet, but he didn’t seem to care. I could feel his hand trailing down my neck and over my collarbone, tracing the edge of my neckline… just like George… George. I turned my face away from the Duke’s, my lips burning from the heat of his kiss.
“I can give you everything you want, Charlotte. Everything.” His hand was heavy on my shoulder and his eyes smoldered with desire. With the fingers of his other hand, he traced the chain of the necklace around my neck – the gift he had asked me to wear tonight. “This jewel you wear. I had it made for the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.” My heart pounded in my chest, and his words burned in my ears. “She died before I could give it to her, and my heart was broken.” The Duke’s voice was quiet, thick with emotion. “But when I saw you, I knew… I knew you had to wear it. And when I saw you tonight, and heard you sing, I knew it was true.”
“I don’t understand…” I truly didn’t understand, was he saying that he loved me? That he wanted me to be his? He was so different from George, a lover of music, an artist himself, a lover of beauty and simple pleasures… he was more like me, more like me than George would ever be. I had been a silly girl when I had married George, more afraid of being alone than of finding someone to truly love. But now, the feel of Duncan’s fingers on my neck, and the look in his eyes, they made me want to forget about George forever. As though he could hear my thoughts, Duncan’s lips found mine again and I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His hands trailed down the tops of my breasts and down the sides of my dress, he groaned as he felt the slimness of my waist, and imagined the perfection of my body beneath the dress he had sent me.
In an instant, he had pulled me to my feet, clutching me tightly to his chest. I gasped as I felt his lips pressing hotly against my neck. I wanted him so badly. I was no innocent girl, I was a married woman, and I knew what the heat of the marriage bed felt like under my back. But I wanted to feel it with Duncan. My fingers tugged at his cravat, pulling the artfully tied knot loose, and fumbled at the buttons of his vest. The Duke’s own hands were desperately pulling at the ties and buttons of my dress and I laughed softly as I pulled away to do his job for him.
“Charlotte… I want to see you in nothing but that necklace.” His voice was raw and ragged, and I rushed with the hooks and clasps, finally I was able to rip the silk from my body and it dropped away from my body to puddle at my feet. Next I unlaced my chemise and let the soft fabric fall away from my hips and onto the carpet. I peeled away my gloves, throwing them onto the divan and stood before the Duke in nothing but my stockings and his beautiful necklace. I fought every single instinct to be shy, to hide my nakedness from his gaze, but I wanted him to see me.
While I had been undressing, the Duke had not been idle. By the time I had pulled my gloves from my fingers, he had stripped off his jacket, vest, shirt and socks and he stood in his breeches, the hardness of his manhood clearly defined by the fabric clinging to his hips and thighs. He reached me with quick strides and swept me into his arms. With his lips locked with mine, he bore me to the bed – that bed I had tried so hard not to imagine lying naked upon. “Duncan…” my voice was a whisper in his ear, and his hips ground into mine. His lips found mine again and I moaned as I felt his hands running over my flesh unchecked. He pinched at my pale pink nipples, plucking them to hardness and molded the soft flesh of my belly with his fingers before sliding a confident hand between my thighs and finding me hot and ready for him. He groaned against my lips as his fingers slipped inside my wetness and I raised my hips to meet the motion of his hand.
I feel of Duncan’s lips on mine coupled with the frenzied urgency of his fingers driving in and out of my pussy was making my head spin. George had never touched me like this, but Duncan wanted to explore my body, wanted to taste my skin, wanted to hear my voice throaty and purring in his ear. I moaned again as his fingers left my pussy, and then gasped as the Duke buried the full length of his cock inside me. He pulled me close to his chest and rocked his hips against mine, his cock driving gently but deeply into me with every subtle motion of his hips. I cried out with pleasure and wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him on by digging my heels into his buttocks. I felt my orgasm building and my throat became ragged with my cries as it broke over me. I came again and again as Duncan held me tightly, cradling me in his arms. I felt the speed of his thrusts increase, and I knew that he was close to his own climax. I urged him on with my voice and the pressure of my heels. I dug my fingers into his back and pressed my lips eagerly to his as he groaned with his release.
The Duke fell on top of me gasping for breath, and I hugged him tightly. He rested his head on my chest and I kissed his forehead, not minding the taste of his sweat. Cradled in his arms, my body vibrating with release, and falling into the depths of the bed, I slept.
Chapter 12
I was having the very best dream: Sophie and I were traveling to Paris. The war was over, France was safe, and we were off to see the world together. The sunlight was dazzling, and it sparkled off of the deep blue water as we boarded the steam ship that would carry us to France. But the sun was in my eyes. I tried to shade them from the glare, but nothing I did would keep it away. I blinked my eyes, and the sunlight from the harbor became the sunlight streaming through the leaded glass windows. I groaned and rubbed at my eyes. I had a horrible headache. That blasted wine. I pulled the covers over my eyes and tried to roll over… and then I realized that I was naked, and that I wasn’t in my room.
Oh no.
This was His Grace’s room… Duncan. It was Duncan’s bed. I was… I had… Oh no. I felt stupid and ashamed. I wondered how many of the ladies staying in Barclay House had found themselves lulled into a trustful state and then had been tumbled into bed by His Grace like common milkmaids. I could feel a sob rising in my throat as I saw my beautiful dress in a heap on the carpet, the glass of wine I barely remembered dropping lay on its side on the carpet. I sat up quickly, gathering the coverlets around me. Duncan was nowhere to be seen, but the pillow next to me had been slept on. I touched it gently. He had spent the night beside me, cradling me in his arms. He had pulled the feathers and crystals gently from my hair and called me sweetheart. It had meant something to him. I meant something to him. I touched the necklace at my throat – I couldn’t bring myself to think of it any other way.
A gentle knock came at the door, and I clutched the bedclothes around my nakedness as a footman entered the room.
“Mrs. Rutledge. Good morning. This letter came for you, and His Grace bade me deliver it here.” He held out a silver platter that held a letter. I took it carefully and thanked him. “When you are ready, please ring the bell and a ladies’ maid will come to help you dress.” He bowed quickly and left the room, leaving me alone to read the letter he had brought.
I turned the letter over in my hands. The seal had been broken, and the paper was stained and torn. I unfolded it carefully, my fingers shaking. This letter had come a long way to get to me. The writing was halting and messy, the ink smudged in places, and it took me a few m
oments to be able to read the full message.
Mrs. Rutledge.
I regret to write to you to tell you of your husband’s death. George Edward Rutledge fell in battle against our foe within a week of arriving in Belgium.
I advise you to return to your parents in the north at once.
I wish you God speed.
Sgt. Martin Grey
The letter dropped from my fingers, George… He had been dead for almost three months, and I hadn’t been told. I didn’t know Sergeant Grey, but then again, I imagined that I never would know him now. I wondered if Sophie had received a similar letter… was her William still alive? Did she feel as woeful and alone as I did? I read the letter again and allowed the tears to flow freely down my face. I had cried for George many a night since he had left, but the tears that ran down my cheeks now were for myself. I was truly alone. I would find no remorse, no comfort with his mother.
I looked around the room again. Duncan’s room. I had to leave, I had to get out of this house, and away from everyone in it. I wondered if they knew; I wondered how many people had seen the Duke take me to his room, and how many more would see me slinking to my own room disheveled and dressed in my finery from the night before. I would never be able to outrun the shame of it. I pulled myself out of bed, and walked across the deep carpets in my stocking feet to the Duke’s massive wardrobe. I opened it quickly and pawed through his fine clothes before finding what I was looking for. I pulled his dressing gown over my shoulders and belted it tightly around my narrow hips. My beautiful dress, the exquisite hair accessories… I left everything behind and fled the room, leaving the door ajar behind me, but not caring.
