by Tia Siren
*****
When Adele didn't come to see him, as arranged, Nicholas became agitated. He'd begun to look forward to her visits, and her sudden absence made him aware how much. He took his horse and rode to Newdene Hall. When he knocked on the front door, Arthur answered.
''The police have taken her away,'' he said, white as a sheet.
At the police station, he was greeted by Sergeant Musgrave. “Where is she and why are your holding her?'' Nicholas demanded to know.
The sergeant looked at Nicholas as if he was insane. ''Who are you talking about?''
''Lady Adele Vaughan, who else?''
''She's helping us with our inquiries,'' he said, pushing Nicholas away from him.
''Into what? She's a lady, not a common criminal.''
''It's none of your business. Who are you?'' the sergeant was thinking of arresting him for impertinence.
''I'm her fiancee.'' He was surprised how proud he was calling himself that.
''Then you should know she's being held on suspicion of murdering Bartholomew Pimms.'' He folded his arms and looked please with himself.
''Are you out of your mind?'' Nicholas said. ''What on earth makes you think that?''
''We've got a witness.''
''This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How do you think a delicate female could possibly murder a man in that way?'' Nicholas had read that Pimms had been stabbed to death.
''I'm not saying she did it herself, but she organized it.''
''You haven't heard the last of this. By the time I'm finished with you, those stripes on your arm will be a distant memory as you walk down the street behind a broom.'' Nicholas was incensed.
*****
Lord Fletcher of Banbury was at home, luckily. The last time Nicholas had spoken to him, it was to apologize for taking his daughter to bed. He'd done what his father had requested, and begged for forgiveness, really begged for the first time in his life. He hoped he wouldn't bump into Georgina, that would be too embarrassing.
As he stood in the same place he had a few weeks earlier, nerves began to get the better of him. It was the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of Lord Fletcher's study. He'd been ushered into the room by a footman and left waiting. When the door opened, he stood upright.
''You again,'' Lord Fletcher said. He was tall and lean, like a military officer. ''What do you want now? You haven't been with my daughter again, have you?'' he held Nicholas by the shoulder and squeezed.
''No sir. I come about something else.''
''Well, it was very brave of you to come and apologize last time. Very manly to stand in front of a woman's father and admit you'd bedded her. So speak, what do you want?''
''You are the highest policeman in the land, are you not?'' Lord Fletcher nodded and scratched his gray sideburns. ''The police in Banbury have arrested Mrs. Adele Vaughan, on suspicion of having something to do with Bartholomew Pimm's murder. She's a lady, I'm sure she didn't do it.''
''I can arrange bail for her, nothing more. I am not in the habit of interfering with my detectives.''
''If you could arrange for her to be released on bail, I would be most grateful.'' It was better than nothing, Nicholas thought.
*****
When Nicholas collected Adele from the police station, she looked drawn. ''I'm taking you back to my house, you need looking after,'' he'd said. But she'd refused. She wanted to go home, she was exhausted.
''I don't know how you did it, but thank you for securing my release.'' She held his arm, as he helped her to her front door.
''I did it because I ......'' he stopped, unsure of himself.
''Because you what?'' she looked at him.
To hell with it. ''Because I have grown very fond of you.''
''Fond?'' she repeated.
''Alright, more than fond, I am in love with you.''
Adele looked at him. Poor man, he's fallen in love with a murderer, a woman who will be locked up forever. ''Nicholas, I have developed strong feelings for you as well. But I have to talk to you about something.''
Arthur held the door open, pleased to see Adele again. ''Tea, my Lady?'' he asked.
''Yes, please, tea.''
They sat opposite each other and said nothing. Nicholas felt vulnerable. He'd told her of his feelings and received little in return.
''Nicholas, I have to confess to something, something terrible, that will prevent us from ever being together.'' She looked at his expression, and her heart sank. ''I am in love with you too.'' Nicholas beamed and took her hands, but she remained serious, and something told him to pull away again. ''But I did have something to do with the death of...''
She stopped as someone knocked on the front door. She remained silent, waiting for Arthur to deal with it. But Arthur came into the room with a disapproving look on his face. ''Mr. Kellet is here again.'' Adele got up and followed Arthur to the front door. Kellet was standing on the doorstep. He was holding an envelope.
''May I come in and speak to you?'' he said.
Adele drew breath. She stood aside and showed him into the dining room. ''Say what you have to say and leave, I'm already in enough trouble.''
''This is for you,'' he handed her the envelope.
''What is it?''
''Thirty thousand.''
''What?''
''The money you gave me, I'm returning it.''
''I don't.......'' Adele was speechless.
''It seems we were too late. So I'm doing the honorable thing and returning your cash.''
''What do you mean, too late?''
''Well, someone got to Mr. Pimms before we could. Someone else killed him. It seems he had more than one enemy.''
''Do you mean you didn't kill him? Or anyone to do with you?''
He shook his head. ''No,''
''Why did my husband want him killed anyway?'' She'd been too afraid to ask before, but now it didn't matter.
''Mr. Pimms had been blackmailing your husband.''
''Why?''
''I'm sorry to tell you, your late husband was having an affair with Mrs. Pimms younger sister. Miss Leatham. Pimms found out about it and threatened to tell you.''
''What?'' Adele's heart was racing. ''I don't believe it.''
''Well, believe what you want, but you have your money, and your conscience should be clear now.''
Adele went back to Nicholas after Kellet had left.
''You were about to tell me something important I think,'' he said.
She looked dazed. ''What? Oh, no it's not important now. Do you think I could become you proper fiancee?'' she asked.
He didn't care what had changed. He just got up and took her in his arms. ''I would like nothing more.''
*****
That evening, Adele gave Nicholas the money back. He didn't want to know what had happened. He assumed something positive had taken place and relieved her of debt.
That evening, she also gave herself to him for the first time. She'd flirted mercilessly with him at dinner, and by the time she let him into her bedroom, he was on fire.
Nicolas undressed Adele hastily and threw her onto the bed, catching a glimpse of her pink folds between her legs. Still dressed, he placed his mouth on her and ran his tongue around her entrance. Adele shivered with pleasure. Then he used his tongue to stroke her folds, flickering upwards to find her bud. Adele let out a moan, so Nicolas inserted a finger into her wet womanhood. Adele moaned louder this time. When he inserted a second finger, he felt her tighten and heard her scream out his name. When she relaxed again, he paused to let her catch her breath. Then he kissed her clitoris ever so slightly, and he heard her gasp. He moved his fingers slowly, massaging the swollen spot deep inside her. Her moans sounded more desperate this time, and as he moved his tongue gently in circles, she came again, and again.
Nicolas wiped his mouth and removed his trousers, his penis yearning to break free. Adele lay motionless on the bed, spent, her eyes taking in his muscles and all of
his manhood, large, red, throbbing. She rose to her knees and took his penis into her hand and drew it into her mouth. She loved how soft the skin felt, a silk cover for a hard rod.
“Stop,” Nicolas said with a husky voice. “I wish to pleasure you. I’ve never before felt such a desire to pleasure a woman.” He lowered his fiancee onto her back and gently placed himself on top of her. He kissed her like he had kissed no other woman, gently but passionately.
“Enter me,” Adele whispered, feeling his member tease around her opening.
Nicolas lowered his hand to his penis and guided it to the entrance. Then he slowly thrust his hips forward, Adele gasping as it slid against her walls. She raised her hips and Nicolas moaned this time. He moved slowly, sliding in and sliding out, and when Adele grabbed his buttocks, he started to pound against her, driven by the rhythm of her moans. Adele felt the pressure building in her vagina, up through her abdomen, and when Nicolas rubbed her clitoris, she came again. She tightened around him, and he could no longer contain himself, and he came, spilling his warm seed inside the woman he loved.
When they lay spent, their bodies entwined, she looked at him and smiled. ''Did we really do a deal: money for engagement?'' He nodded and laughed. ''Well it went spectacularly wrong didn't it? '' He nodded, and they rolled about laughing, before entering into another bout of lovemaking, this time, slower, more sensual.
*****
Cyril Wright got life imprisonment for the murder of Bartholomew Pimms. According to the judge, the motive was money. He'd done gardening work for Pimms and never been paid. Bartholomew had argued that he'd claimed for more hours that he'd actually worked. He'd tried to make out that Adele had ordered the killing because he knew her husband was having an affair with Miss Leatham and it was easy to portray Adele as the vengeful wife.
Nicholas and Adele married and had a child before the Earl died. As Earl, Nicholas employed many more orphans and had the old orphanage knocked down and rebuilt. He also paid for kinder staff.
*****
THE END
The Duke of Ice – A Regency Romance
Elizabeth Hawk had heard all the rumors about the Duke of Summerset, Harold Stonewall. She had heard that he aided the King in a decisive battle against the French. Some say he aided. Others say he smashed the French with a force of one-hundred men and then allowed the King to take most of the credit. She’d heard about his two years in France, hiding in barns and on farms to avoid being spotted. She’d heard about his reputed coldness, and his inability to show emotion of any kind. She’d heard that he was twenty-seven and had yet to take a wife.
But Elizabeth knew other things, too, things about her own family. They were on the wrong side of a monstrous debt. They had been whittled down by war to one son and one daughter, and their extended family was non-existence, and their friends had become ghosts. Elizabeth knew that her family was on the verge of total collapse. Soon they would be nothing but a footnote in England’s history, something to be passed over with bored eyes.
When she heard that the Duke of Summerset was holding a party and that she had been invited, she didn’t know how to feel. She spent her days sewing and repairing gowns, helping to tend the chickens and pigs and generally acting as un-ladylike as a supposed lady could. The Hawk family had let all their servants go. Father’s gambling debts had robbed them of most of their valuables. They were almost utterly ruined.
But a party at Summerset Castle! As soon as Elizabeth heard about it, she was excited. She had not been to a party for two years. Her friends had abandoned her since Father had insulted all of their fathers. She had lived alone, Mother rarely talking, Father too busy with drinking and lamenting his past to engage in conversation. She spent her time when she wasn’t tending the livestock in books. Father had not sold their books, which was a small miracle in itself. She read as much as she could, if only to forget what was happening in the real world.
When the missive came, Father peered at it through a haze of pipe-smoke and scrunched up his face. “What’s this, then?” he said. “The Duke of Summerset wants you, Elizabeth, to attend a party at his Castle? Well, I wonder what tricks he’s playing! I’ve heard lots about him; I have! Lots! I’ve heard that he drinks human blood. Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s true! He’s a beast on the battlefield, and he drinks human blood! When he returned from France, the first thing he did was order a chalice of blood!”
“Father…”
“No!” He lurched when he shouted, spilling wine down his shirt, which was already sodden with sweat. “You cannot go!”
“Dear, she can hardly refuse,” Mother murmured over her knitting. “Think how it would look. A Duke invites you to a party; you do not refuse. You accept, despite your misgivings.”
Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile but quickly hid it with her hand. She made her face impassive again and then looked to Father, waiting for him to speak. She knew there was no use in pushing the matter. She simply had to wait. After a few minutes, Father let the letter drop to the floor and sucked on his pipe. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can go.”
Elizabeth did not show her joy. Inside she was jumping and cheering and screaming in excitement, but outside she was impassive and still as stone. Living around Father, one learnt to hide one’s emotions. Father was not overly fond of displays of inner feelings, and Elizabeth had learnt to make herself calm in almost every circumstances, even if she was only calm on the outside. Plus, the turmoil of the past years had dulled her emotions until it was difficult to feel anything not tinged with depression.
But a party, a real party… that was something to look forward to.
“Thank you, Father,” she said quietly.
“You will need a dress,” Mother muttered.
“Yes, Mother.”
“You can have my good gown, the one I have saved.”
Elizabeth knew all about this gown. It was beautiful and elegant, with gold trimming and forest-green silk. Father had sold all of their gowns, but Mother had not allowed him to sell this one. He had fought her, but she had persevered and managed to succeed in saving it.
“Thank you, Mother,” Elizabeth said.
*****
The chandelier caught the summer light as it beamed through the high-set windows of Summerset Castle’s ball room. Elizabeth accepted a glass of wine from a server and walked to the edge of the room, where she could sit quietly and privately. The room was packed full of beautiful and noble people all laughing and joking with each other. There were only a few people not attached to a group. Elizabeth knew she had to wait to be approached by somebody, that it would be presumptuous and rude to merely attach herself to a group, but she was beginning to feel like a woman on an island sitting on this chair.
Across the ballroom was Charlotte Festrew, a girl who had once been a friend of Elizabeth’s. Father had lost money to her father and had refused to pay until violence was threatened. Afterwards, Charlotte had sent Elizabeth a short note severing all ties between them. Elizabeth knew it was foolish to hope that Charlotte had miraculously changed her mind, but she decided to try and approach her anyway.
Elizabeth’s legs were shaky, and her heart was like a war-drum, pounding, pounding. Charlotte was talking to a tall man with an elaborate beard, the mustache flicking upwards. She laughed at something he said and then turned to Elizabeth, the smile on her lips right up until the moment they met eyes. “You,” she said, her mouth hanging open for a moment.
“Who is your friend?” the man said.
“Elizabeth Hawk,” Charlotte said, with a worried look.
“Hawk? Daughter of Francis Hawk? The philanderer!”
“I do not believe he is a philanderer, sir, just a gambler.”
“Ha! This birdy has a sharp beak indeed!”
“Her family is in complete ruin,” Charlotte said, as though Elizabeth were not standing there. “Her father has completely trampled their finances. I’ve even heard rumors that her mother has taken to a situation in
an estate, cleaning and helping with the children.”
“That is not true,” Elizabeth said, aghast.
Charlotte went on, oblivious of Elizabeth. “I’ve even heard whispers that the Father has taken to roaming the highways, pistol in hand, in the hopes of robbing some poor lord or lady.”
“Liar!” Elizabeth whispered fiercely, not wishing to disturb the party.
Charlotte turned to Elizabeth with a sad smile. “How are you even here, Elizabeth? Did you sneak in?”
Elizabeth was appalled. What had she done to provoke such slander? She had never been anything but kind to Charlotte. Only two years ago they had walked together in her family’s woods, laughing and joking all the way, telling each other what great friends they were. And now here she was, being viciously abused. She didn’t know what to say. No words would form. She only stood there, mouth hanging open, tears stinging her eyes. No, she told herself. No, no, no. She made herself cold and forced the tears away.
She is playing a dangerous game, the cold part of Elizabeth thought. Does she not recall what she told me, when we walked through the woods, about a certain night in the stables with the gardener?
Charlotte and the man were laughing. Elizabeth forced herself to smile and then said, as pleasantly as she could: “Charlotte, you must tell me who does your gardens. If I recall correctly, they are absolutely beautiful.”
Charlotte’s face dropped. She choked back a laugh. “I—I’m sure I don’t—know what you—”
Elizabeth didn’t wait for her to stop stuttering. She walked straight to the door and into the gardens, where a few people strolled. She was able to find a bench and seated herself gratefully. A fine film of sweat had built upon her upper lip. She touched it with her fingertips and then looked upon the garden.
“That was quite the show,” a voice said behind her.
Elizabeth turned and the Duke of Summerset, Harold Stonewall, stepped forward.
