Inevitably a Duchess

by Jessie Clever

  “How were the boys?” he asked.

  In trying to get Morris’ confession off to the Office as quickly as possible, Jane had been the one to take the boys to the nursery and see to their baths.

  “Cook sent up her famous raspberry biscuits with their supper. They could not have been happier lads. It was a struggle to get them into bed after such excitement.”

  “It was brave what you did,” Richard said without thinking.

  Jane looked sharply at him.

  “Brave?” she asked.

  “Brave,” he said again, “You could have kept the doors locked and hoped Morris could not get in. It would have been a very practical course of action.”

  “Practical perhaps but not very effective.”

  “Effective?”

  “I couldn’t just let him try to come in without doing something. Nathan and Alec were in here. It simply had to be done.”

  Richard nodded slowly.

  “Beating someone with a hot chestnut roaster was something that needed to be done.”

  “Yes,” Jane said, a smirk hesitantly coming to her lips. “A suitable offensive tactic was in order.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow at her strategist’s speak. Jane just raised one in return.

  “How is that for spy language?”

  “Fair,” Richard said, but he followed it with a smile.

  Jane laughed softly, leaning forward to set her snifter on the table before the sofa. When she leaned back, she nestled into his side, forcing one of his arms over and around her shoulders. Her head came to rest at the top of his chest.

  “We should go to bed,” Richard said, even as Jane seemed to deflate against him.

  “Just a few minutes more,” she said, her voice soft and drowsy.

  Richard tightened his arm about her, accommodating her request even as sense dictated he should not. The clock ticked on for several minutes while they sat in silence, holding onto each other as the night moved past them. Richard felt his eyes drifting shut, and he forced them open. The warm fire and brandy were not helping his already drained body to stay awake, and he nudged Jane’s shoulder.

  “Are you awake?”

  “No,” came the soft answer from somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.

  “Then let’s be off to bed.”

  “I supposed you’re right,” Jane finally said, her voice slightly stronger as she moved away from him. “The boys will be up early, no doubt, and they’ll be wanting to hear the stories of their unstoppable father.”

  Richard watched her rise, unable to move at her confusing words.

  “Unstoppable?”

  Jane nodded.

  “They believe your skin has the miraculous ability to stop bullets.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes,” Jane said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

  He saw the weariness in her eyes, and he stood, drawing her near to him. They stood for a moment before the fire. He in only trousers and shirtsleeves, and she, her hair mussed about her shoulders, her dress wrinkled and dirty. They would have made quite the sight, but standing there with her in his arms, Richard could not have cared about such things.

  He kissed her gently.

  “Let’s go to bed, Jane.”

  She smiled at him and said, “Let’s.”

  He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to show her with actions what words were incapable of conveying. But his body would not do what his mind asked of it. His body was already shutting down before he reached the bed. He carelessly discarded his trousers and shirt, watching as Jane struggled with the buttons of her gown. Completely naked now, he made his way across the room as if helping Jane with her buttons was something he did every night. The gesture was a punch to his stomach, and he held his breath to stop the pain. If only Jane would say yes to his proposal. If only she would marry him.

  He undid the buttons of her gown quickly, slipping the garment from her shoulders. The rest of her garments came off quickly and soon, she was just as naked as he was. He helped her into the high bed, pulling back the coverlet as she fell into the soft folds of the mattress. He followed her and went to pull her into his arms when she suddenly sat up, pulling at her hair.

  “I don’t want to cause you to lose an eye if one of my hair pins wanders,” she said without looking at him.

  He watched her, the firelight cascading over the gentle curves of her body like the touch of a lover. The scene was hypnotic, and he could not look away. She gently removed the hair pins, her arms moving with a fluidity that could not have come from a human body.

  Richard lay against the plush pillows of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched her long raven hair fall down her back in a waterfall. The sight had him up on his knees, suddenly no longer tired in the least. He came up behind her, his hands traveling from her back, through her long locks to cup her breasts. She gasped at his touch, as he kneaded the thick, heavy orbs, and then she moaned, leaning back into him, bringing her body against his. Tendrils of her hair fell over her shoulders and covered his hands. The sight was so sensual he felt his body react physically, his erection growing and throbbing as the sight of Jane aroused him like nothing else could.

  “Richard,” she moaned, and he let one hand drift lower, moving through the patch of tight curls at her very core.

  But he did not touch her.

  He stroked her thighs, first one and then the other, his fingers always moving. Next came the soft folds of her opening, and with but a single finger against her, she jerked in his arms, his name coming out as a plea. The single word was enough to have him slip a finger inside of her. The tight muscles of her sheath spasmed against that finger, and the surprise at finding her already wet had his erection throbbing harder.

  He shifted against her, allowing his pulsating manhood to rest in the curve of her spine just above the crest of her buttocks. Her soft curves pushed against him, and he slipped across her velvety skin. It was his turn to moan as he struggled to maintain control. But Jane had begun to move, her hips pushing his finger deeper inside of her. He withdrew the finger and quickly replaced it with two, plunging into her with a come here motion. She screamed, the sound ragged, filled with a basic desire he had never before heard her make.

  It was enough to force him ahead. He pushed on her back, bending her over until she was on her hands and knees. He pulled his fingers free of her, keeping one finger, slick with her own juice, rubbing soft circles around her sensitive nub. And then he was inside of her, her body pulsing around him. The heat, the tightness, the movement were all too much, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. He moved inside of her, but she moved against him, her hips ratcheting, pushing his penis so deep.

  “Jane,” he said, unable to say more.

  But suddenly, she reached back, pulling his hips toward her, pushing him further inside of her.

  “Come with me,” he heard her say just as everything exploded.

  ~

  Jane came awake slowly, aware of several things at once.

  She was naked, she was not alone, and it was much later than it should have been.

  She sat up, pushing Richard’s arm off of her. She heard him grumble in his sleep before he, too, opened his eyes. It wasn’t long before he sat up as well.

  “What time is it?” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

  “It’s late,” Jane said, staring about the room, at their piles of discarded clothing, the rumpled linens streaming from the bed, and worse, the roaring fire. “It’s too late. Someone’s already been here to build the fire back up.”

  Richard scrubbed his hands over his face before looking in the direction of the fireplace. Jane turned to watch his reaction, but when he simply shrugged, she felt a twitch of concern.

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  He stifled a yawn before pushing back the bedclothes and rising.

  “So the servants know you spent the entire night. It’s not as if they h
aven’t had enough clues about it. It has been nearly a year of me sneaking you through the kitchen and out the back at ungodly hours of the morning.”

  Richard padded over to where a silk dressing gown had been placed on one of the chairs in front of the fire. The morning light seeping through the curtains highlighted the muscles of his back as he moved, accentuating the lean lines of his torso where it tapered to his hips. Jane was momentarily mesmerized by the movement, her thoughts scattering as she enjoyed watching Richard move about the room naked. He donned the dressing gown far too quickly and turned to face the room.

  “Oh, they’ve left tea, too,” he said this with such boyish enthusiasm that Jane laughed.

  Richard smiled at her, his hair mussed from sleep sticking out from the sides of his head. He looked so young then that for a breath Jane forgot entirely about the proceedings of the previous day. She forgot all about Lady Straughton and Morris and body snatchers and treason. All of it went away when there was just Richard to look at.

  “Are you truly not concerned that the servants know that I spent the entire night? Or that I may not be able to leave this morning without it being observed?”

  Richard looked at her, his hands on the belt of his robe as he finished tying it off.

  “No, I truly am not concerned,” he finally said. “Jane-“ he paused, taking a step forward as if to help his thoughts along. “I underestimated you, and it was unfair of me. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Jane blinked, feeling all sense of the world about her slink away.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, but she wasn’t really sure Richard could clarify enough for her to understand of what he spoke.

  Richard looked down at his feet before making his way over to her, coming to sit beside her on the bed. His thigh touched hers through the sheets, and she welcomed the heat of his body. But she wouldn’t let him distract her.

  “What are you going on about, Richard?” she asked to prompt him along in his clarification.

  He gathered her hands in his before looking up at her, his eyes focused on hers so intently, she felt that words would be extraneous in that moment.

  “Jane,” he said, “I saw you after Winton beat you. I saw what you looked like. The bruises, the cuts, and I remember how you would tell people you had fallen. Your excuses came so quickly at the end, that I don’t think even you believed them any longer. Everyone knew what Winton was doing to you, and no one understood how you survived it. Only I-“

  His voice broke, and Jane reflexively tightened her hold on his fingers, following the movement of his face as he struggled with his words. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Jane waited. Richard had never spoken to her like this. He had never even mentioned what she had gone through in her marriage to Winton in the many years they had known each other.

  “I didn’t believe you were strong enough to survive it,” he finally said, and when he opened his eyes, she found they were wet with tears.

  Words failed her. She knew she should have said something, but her mind was an utter blankness she could not fill.

  “Richard,” was all that she could manage.

  “I was wrong, Jane,” Richard continued, “You were strong enough to survive Winton, and you are strong enough to survive even more, and I am so sorry that I doubted you.”

  “I never knew you doubted me, Richard,” she said, pulling one of her hands free to cup the side of his face. “You were always there for me when I needed you. You and your outrageous sons.” She smiled then, softly, afraid and unsure of what to say next. “I have always had your support when it mattered most. Don’t ever doubt that, Richard.”

  She saw the corners of his mouth tug with a reluctant smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him softly. When she pulled back his eyes had cleared, and he looked more like the Richard she had fallen in love with, the Richard she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

  This thought had her swallowing hard. Had she made that decision already? The slight hesitation she had felt at Richard’s overprotectiveness had vanished at his words. But had she decided to not only be a wife, but to be a mother to children that were not born of her flesh? She hadn’t been aware of it, but suddenly, calling the boys her own seemed to fit. Seemed to be inevitable.

  “What is it?” Richard whispered.

  “I am in great need of a chamberpot,” she said, instead of speaking of any of the things on her mind.

  Richard jumped off the bed, the movement so startling she laughed.

  “A chamberpot it is, my lady,” Richard said, flourishing his arm in the direction of his dressing room. “Off with you then.”

  Jane scooted to the edge of the bed, bending over to retrieve an article of clothing from the floor. It happened to be Richard’s shirt and was likely too large for her person, but she drew it over her head anyway, running her fingers up the buttons in the front. She looked up to find Richard raising one of his eyebrows at her.

  “It’s cold,” she said, her nose scrunching up at his obvious lack of understanding.

  He tilted his head back and barked a laugh of utter delight. The image was so fulfilling after the events of the day before that she laughed as well. But then nature’s urges were too strong, and she finished getting up from the bed, all but dashing into the dressing room. She went to the back of the room where a chamberpot was usually stowed only to find two rather startling things. The first of which was a bourdaloue and the second, one of her gowns, freshly pressed and hung among Richard’s wardrobe. The fact that one of her gowns should have materialized in Richard’s dressing room seemingly overnight was odd but not unexpected. Richard must have told a servant on the previous night to have the garment fetched, realizing Jane may not make it home.

  But the bourdaloue was an entirely different matter of a rather delicately intimate nature. She snatched up the porcelain vessel and returned to the main bedchamber.

  “Have you taken to entertaining ladies in your bedchamber at an incredible frequency?” Jane said when she reached the room.

  Richard looked up from where he was pouring tea in front of the fire. His brow wrinkled as if in thought.

  “Not that I can recall. Unless you are thinking of making more regular visits,” he said as if it were an after thought.

  Jane held up the bourdaloue.

  “Then what is this doing in your dressing room?”

  Richard did not hesitate as he replied, “Waiting for you to make use of it.”

  Jane’s hand faltered slightly at his words, and the bourdaloue wobbled in her grip.

  “You acquired this for me?”

  Richard nodded, finishing with one tea cup before starting to fill another.

  “I had heard that chamberpots could be awkward for ladies, and I didn’t want you to be inconvenienced.” He finished filling the second cup and returned his gaze more directly to her. “I thought you had dire need of such facilities. Why are you standing there having this conversation with me?”

  The hand holding the bourdaloue dropped completely, returning to its place at her side.

  “That is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me,” Jane said and was surprised to find her voice came out as a whisper.

  Richard only looked at her.

  “Getting you a pot to relieve yourself in is the nicest thing anyone has done for you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Jane only nodded at first but finally managed a soft, “Yes.”

  “Then it would appear I have low expectations to meet,” Richard said and then pointed to the dressing room door. “Now go. I’ll impress you further upon your return by offering you a cup of tea.”

  Richard sat on the sofa facing the fire, pulling the tea tray closer as he finished preparing their cups. Jane went back into the dressing room, happily using the much more convenient bordaloue before partaking of the water left in the pitcher on Richard’s dressing table. She washed her hands and face, the water refreshing her from the sleep that had seemed to consume
her. She found Richard relaxing on the sofa, a cup of tea in hand. She snatched up her own cup before joining him.

  “You do realize we have about thirty seconds before the boys are up, and we will have some explaining to do?” she said, tucking her feet under her as she sat on the sofa.

  Richard nodded over his steaming cup of tea.

  “Indeed. And what is it that we’re going to explain?”

  “We’re going to explain why it is that I am a guest at breakfast.”

  “You like eggs,” Richard said. “Your presence has been explained.”

  Jane smiled into her tea as she took a sip.

  “Richard,” she said when she finished swallowing.

  “Ah, the serious part of the day has already commenced,” Richard said, throwing her a sarcastic glance.

  She frowned at him.

  “I need to ask of you a favor,” she said.

  Richard returned his cup to the tea tray.

  “Anything, my lady,” he said, turning so he faced her fully.

  “I need you to take me to the War Office,” she said.

  “What for?” was Richard’s near instant reply.

  “I would like to join the Office as an agent,” she said, and the words felt awkward in her mouth even as she felt her resolve tightening.

  This was something she needed to do. It was something that must be done. She had known the moment that she had decided to descend the steps to follow Lady Straughton from Lady Vaxson’s tea that this was the inevitable course for her to follow. She had felt it in the same way she had felt the primal need to protect Alec and Nathan from Morris the previous day. It was like every time she would open her eyes after one of Winton’s beatings, she knew she had to go on. And just as Richard had said. She was a survivor, and as such, she had a bravery and courage that not everyone possessed. It was time she started putting that to good use.

  “Jane, I know I may have suggested that you consider this profession, but I never meant-“

  “You were right, Richard,” she cut him off. “You were right.”