Unleashed Desires 0f A Noble Lady (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Donald did not feel assured by Matthew at all. He still felt like he had done something terrible. The wine which had been making him float earlier now turned sour in his throat and stomach.

  Perhaps Matthew and I are wrong.

  Maybe he should go against Matthew’s advice and tell Emma the whole situation up front. The idea of Emma rejecting him hurt just as much as the idea of lying to her.

  Then a cold pang gripped the base of Donald’s spine and slowly started to creep its way up. What if Lord Westfolk decided that his deception was intentional and his choices weren’t motivated by the love of his daughter? What if he withdrew his blessing? Even if Emma forgave him, that wouldn’t mean her father would be so inclined to.

  As much as it didn’t sit well, Donald knew Matthew was right. It would be best to keep this among the business owners. Especially if he was so inclined to believe he could find a solution and save his business. If he was as good at business as he claimed to be, he should be able to solve this problem without it becoming an issue to his future wife.

  If I can’t resolve this problem then I don’t deserve to be Emma’s husband anyway.

  * * *

  The master bedroom of the Stapleton manor had always been a sad place. Dark hand-carved furniture accented by black curtains and bed dressings. It was certainly very beautiful, there was no doubt, and Donald had enough value for the history of it to never try and alter it. Aside from ordering the occasional brightly colored plant, that would simply die in a matter of days in the sunless room.

  It had been initially designed by Donald’s grandfather and never changed. The first Duke of Derbourg was a widower from an early age that had never remarried. The Duchess’ death had greatly impacted his grandfather and his father, leaving them both very emotionally distant, although his father had slowly warmed after meeting his mother.

  There was salvation from the common depression of the Stafney gentlemen, history had shown this. But on this night, supposed to be the happiest of his life, Donald felt a fundamental connection to his family curse. The room wrapped around him, offering both salvation and condemnation in its darkness. He could understand how his grandfather had spent days alone in this room with nothing but his melancholy.

  He sat at the writing desk, the alcohol long having burned out his veins in his night fever. Dozens of crumpled notes sat on the desk, his hands and shirt cuffs were doused in ink. Each time he would start this “happy” note to his parents to announce his engagement, his anxieties would creep into it and make it look dire or stilted to his eyes. He had been through a dozen drafts and was on the verge of giving up.

  You’re letting this eat you up. You won’t survive that way.

  Donald blinked at the surprising self clarity. He was right, though. If he pitied his own mistake until it debilitated him, then nothing would get resolved. He needed to force himself to sleep. Then, as early as was acceptable, he would draft a message. It was fine. A messenger couldn’t leave for the country until the morning anyway.

  Sleep. I need sleep.

  He stood and changed into different sleep clothes, sleepily eyeing the ink stains that dotted his night shirt with resignation.

  While Donald had calmed his mind, he still tossed and turned, feeling consumed by guilt. He thought of the one thing that could calm his mind. He thought of Emma.

  And then she was there. Her soft hand touching his brow, her soft lips kissing his cheeks and his chest. Her body was as Donald had only imagined it, as he was now, naked. She lay on top of his much larger form, letting her hands and lips touch him all over.

  These thoughts did calm the anxiety that kept him restless, but still rushed his blood. In a way Donald was glad Emma wasn’t really there, as the night clothes would do little to conceal the effect that thoughts of her naked body had on him.

  Donald felt especially foolish for being embarrassed now. In a few short weeks Emma would be sharing a marriage bed with him, and he shouldn’t be embarrassed to express himself. To show himself to her.

  And so the thoughts became manifest in his fantasy. He saw it now, in his mind’s eye, he was naked too. And they basked in each other’s heat and touch. And she admired him, touched his impressive masculinity in that delicate way only a young lady could.

  Yes, yes, he wasn’t embarrassed anymore and desperately wished his lady love was truly there to ease his mind and distract him. He wished they could fall asleep together, naked bodies intertwined.

  Soon. Soon we will be together in the night. And every night after that.

  * * *

  In the morning Donald felt both better and not.

  On one hand the guilt that had consumed him had abated. Not because he didn’t feel wrong for not thinking to tell Emma of his financial situation. But because in the light of day, it seemed like a very surmountable problem.

  On the other hand, he still had no solution to a lack of furs, and this continued to gnaw at him.

  Still he was able to produce a much better note in the morning. He reread it several times to make sure it conveyed everything he needed it to in the way he wanted it to.

  Dearest Father and Mother,

  I am writing to inform you of my recent engagement to Lady Emma, daughter to the Earl of Westfolk. This probably comes as little surprise to either of you. I am, however, writing to see if it is acceptable that I, Lady Emma, her family, and Lord Thetmont may come to stay for one week in the near future, and at the end of the aforementioned week is when we shall be married. I do think it would be a wonderful occasion and there is nowhere I would rather have it than the Derbourg manor.

  Your Son,

  Donald Stafney, The Marquess of Stapleton

  Donald nodded approvingly before sealing it with wax. He carried it to his bedroom, opened the door and called for his valet. “Helt!” And jumped to find him standing right there. “Oh, you are here.”

  “Yes, My Lord. I was here to assist the young lord with dressing so he may partake in the delightful breakfast prepared for him,” Helt said dryly.

  “A wonderful idea, but I need you to take this message to a footman to have delivered to my mother and father.”

  “I shall make sure that this letter gets sent with the utmost urgency.”

  “Excellent.” Donald sank into a cushioned chair that was thankfully nearby. He let out a tired sigh. The letter had proven incredibly taxing on him, but he took great solace in the belief that his marriage to Emma would bring ease to his life in the years to come.

  Chapter 17

  Mr. Lewiston stood, tapping his lip with the bit of chalk as he looked Emma over from head to toe. “I am beginning to see it. The vision is forming dear. Just give me another minute.”

  Emma stood on a foot-high pedestal and was surrounded by three full-length mirrors as four different assistants ran this way and that, taking different measures and remarking to themselves about different colors or cuts of fabric.

  “I have a great respect for great beauties, Lady Emma, and I take dresses for marriages very seriously,” Mr. Lewiston said as he continued to concentrate. “Now, I know you were a fan of the buttercup dress from the ball, but are you sure you want the same color for your wedding? It’s summer now, the colors have changed for the season.”

  Emma nodded certainly. “That was the color I was wearing when we realized we were in love, so I would like to be wearing the same color again.”

  The dressmaker, a gentleman of advanced age with wrinkles to match, smiled a deep and knowing smile. “Not to fret, my dear, of all the requests I have gotten in regards to wedding dresses, yours by far is the simplest. You have stood long enough, though. Sally be a dear and help the young lady down.” The dressmaker waved and one of the assistants offered to help Emma down.

  “No, dear, the design isn’t what concerns me, simply the date. I will have to work my assistants to the bone to get you a new dress so soon.” Mr. Lewiston sighed and Emma thought she caught a dismayed look on his employees’ faces out
of the corner of her eye.

  “If you could have it delivered to the Duke of Derbourg’s Estate, you would have extra time to work on it. I was simply planning on having it while I traveled. Though, honestly, if it gives you more time I don’t mind it coming by delivery.” Emma was a little hesitant but she was always one to compromise.

  “That would be absolutely perfect. In return for the lady’s absolute trust in me to deliver, I’ll use the extra time to put some special touches on it for you. Just because you are such a lovely lady,” the old man said with his usual charismatic smile.

  Emma always thought Mr. Lewiston was such a nice dressmaker. She could understand why Henrietta always bumped heads with him, though. You had to play by his rules to get what you both wanted. Or at least make him think you were playing by his rules.

  Emma thanked the dressmaker and his assistants and Josephine and she made her way back to the carriage.

  “My Lady, if you are open to conversation, I do have a question in regards to my employment, if that wouldn’t be too improper at this time,” Josephine asked with surprising delicacy.

  “Your employment?” Emma asked, voice filled with curiosity. “I’ve never been the one to handle those affairs before. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to ask Father?”

  “Well, you see that is the matter at hand, My Lady,” she explained. “My employment with your Father is soon to come to an end. As you are to be married I wanted to confirm if I would be moving houses with you. I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

  “Oh I am so sorry, Josephine. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. So many things must change when a lady is married. Of course you would be accompanying me. I wouldn’t want anyone else,” Emma assured her lady’s maid.

  Josephine nodded contently, her mood returning to her usual self. “That is good to hear, My Lady. I wouldn’t want to have to get reacquainted with someone else’s habits and needs. Especially if they were younger than yourself, My Lady.”

  Emma smiled, but it was a nervous smile. She had gotten butterflies in her stomach since the day of the proposal, and these butterflies had multiplied since she learned Donald’s parents were welcoming them all to their home in just a month’s time.

  Donald had voiced worry that it would be far too long to wait to get married, but Emma had assured him that it would be perfectly fine. Secretly Emma agreed with him, she didn’t want to wait that long to be married at all. But she didn’t want to come across as a fuss to her new in-laws.

  More so, she was very nervous about going to stay with Donald’s family. She had met the Duke and Duchess a few times during the years of their friendship, but the friends had often spent their time around the Lord and Lady Westfolk. The Duke was not the warmest in terms of company and his wife was quiet. It made for some uncomfortable evenings. Emma partially dreaded spending a week there, but was thankful the occasion would keep the mood light.

  Still every time she would become nervous about the affair, she would think about what it was all leading to. Her wedding. That glorious moment when Donald and her could make their love whole and true.

  And after that, the wedding night.

  The thought sent chills up Emma’s spine as she rode in the carriage. The idea that Donald would finally be able to touch her, have her without restraint, make her heat move in great waves along her skin, forced her to squirm in her seat.

  They would never have to hold back. Never have to wait to kiss and hold and touch each other ever again after that night. She would belong to him and he would belong to her and everything would feel like sweet bliss.

  A small sigh escaped Emma’s lips as she daydreamed while looking out the window.

  * * *

  When they had arrived back at the estate, they heard a commotion coming from upstairs. Following it led Emma to discover that the ruckus appeared to be some sort of disagreement between her grandmother and Henrietta.

  “Lady Westfolk, you are sadly mistaken,” Henrietta’s voice was raised and she stood next to her bed. Her bedroom had been stripped of any decoration. “And I am quite saddened to correct you, but you will unfortunately have to suffer my absence.”

  “What is going on?” Emma asked from the doorway. Her grandmother stood just inside, looking rather cross.

  “I found Lady Henrietta here, packing up her things. And not just for the trip, all of her things,” the Dowager said, turning to Emma. “And she informed me that after the wedding she would be leaving to return to her family’s estate.”

  Emma turned to her friend. “You are leaving?”

  No wonder she didn’t want to come dress shopping with me this morning.

  Henrietta bit her lip. “Emma, I was sent here to live with other unmarried ladies my age so that we would both have better chances of being courted. You are going to get married, so there is no point in me staying.”

  Emma was about to speak when the Dowager interrupted her. “That was the foolery she tried to sell me, but if she is going to tell me she is done learning how to be a proper lady now that you are to be married, she isn’t fooling anyone.”

  At this Henrietta huffed, tears welling up in her eyes but she was clearly holding them back. “I am a proper lady,” her voice quavered.

  The Dowager looked like she was about to say something when Emma stepped in. “Of course you are, Henrietta. Grandmother didn’t mean that you weren’t. She is just concerned about you returning to your parent’s home where she couldn’t watch over you. She has a hard time admitting it sometimes, but she likes keeping an eye on us younger ladies. It helps her know that we are doing well.” Emma turned to the Dowager. “Isn’t that right?”

  The Dowager took a deep breath. “It would not be wise, in my opinion, for you to leave at this time, Lady Henrietta. You are at a pivotal time in your social interaction and we can’t have you running off to the countryside when you are soon to be courted. That is what I meant to say.” She added, snippy at the end, “If I said it more harshly than that, it’s only because you were acting so rashly. Packing up your things before we even left for the wedding, I cannot fathom what was going through your mind.”

  Henrietta sniffled. “Perhaps I was getting ahead of myself.”

  “It would do, I think, for everyone to discuss as a household what is best to do and what is best for you,” Emma said. “Especially to wait until after the wedding. No need to be rushing into any sort of decisions when emotions are running high.”

  Henrietta agreed. “If you two would excuse me, I need to compose myself and get my room back into order.”

  Emma and The Dowager stepped out of the room, Sophie closed the door behind them. As they left The Dowager touched her hand to Emma’s shoulder. “Thank you, for articulating how I was feeling. After getting to say my thoughts for so long, I forget sometimes that there is a need to be gentle.”

  Emma smiled. “I’ve always known you cared, Grandmother. Expressing ourselves has never been a Weston strong suit, but we manage better than some.”

  Emma’s grandmother gave a small knowing nod before circling around her to go her separate way. Before parting she stopped. “I don’t like going out. I especially don’t like to travel, but I will confess one thing to you in private. I am very much looking forward to seeing you get married, dear.”

  Emma was touched by the Dowager’s brief show of sensitivity but, as expected, it wasn’t long lived. Her grandmother quickly absconded down the corridor leading to her own bedroom.

  Chapter 18

  Donald let out a sign as he flipped through the stack of papers. Any passerby familiar with his circumstances might have assumed that he was trying to work out how to find a new fur supplier, but no. That particular business had been put on hold while Matthew followed up on some leads he had heard about. He had asked Donald not to do anything for the time being, as Matthew didn’t want news to spread that they were desperate, and Donald agreed.

  No, this stack of papers was an ongoing correspondence with his mot
her Amata Stafney, the Duchess of Derbourg. His mother wasn’t a lady of many words, but when she got going on a letter she could write for pages and pages. Case in point, the two-and-twenty pages he held in his hands, which were divided among three letters.

  The last letter he had received, totaling in at seven pages, was actually Donald and his mother’s favorite subject of debate: flowers. Donald had developed his love of flora from his mother’s dedication to her garden. This letter, and others in the flower theme, were a double-edged sword for Donald, though. He and his mother both loved flowers, true, but they always disagreed on the specifics of the matter.

  Now his mother was trying to help him coordinate arrangements and Donald knew they were going to come to odds. Her letter had specified arrangements that contained many rare and imported flowers of all sorts of sharp and vibrant colors. This was much according to her style and not in alignment with Donald and Emma’s tastes.