‘Or maybe I will call him by his given name? Francis.’
Alexandra shook her head. That did not sound right either. She might just resort to calling him ‘husband’. Her hand circled her inner thigh, trying to imagine ‘husband’ or ‘Francis’ or ‘Your Grace’ touching her just so.
None of them seemed to fit. Her finger paused, right next to the entrance to her heat as she mused. Her finger trembled, and she pressed it in, just a little and then whipped it away in mortification, glancing fearfully at the door. If someone should catch her even thinking what she was thinking it would be beyond the pale.
She sat up, taking up the sponge and wiping down her arms, heart pounding triple time in her chest. Her nipples pebbled from the sudden cold as a breeze blew in from her open window. She shivered unable to stop herself from cupping her own breasts, mind still on the marriage bed and what might happen within it.
She did not want Summerhill’s short, pudgy hands to cup her bosom just so; she did not want him running his finger against her nipple, bringing it to hardness. Her knees widened of their own volition, and she whimpered, aware of the warm water lapping gently against the heart of her femininity. She gasped, back arching into the gentle licking warmth, wishing it was stronger but not willing to do anything to make it so. Her hands squeezed down on her breast, eyes closed, bottom lip caught in her teeth. The feel of the warmth against her core was slowly driving her insane, and she longed to touch but was too afraid to. She knew these thoughts were unbecoming of a Lady. She knew she should stop.
A soft knock on the door had her simultaneously sitting up and hunching over, shielding her flushed body from scrutiny. Magdalene poked her head in, a small smile on her face.
“Oh, you’re still in the bath, Xandra? Such a slowpoke. I hoped to join you for breakfast.”
“Well since there is no one but us here, we should perhaps have it in the morning room. Why don’t you go down and I shall join you momentarily?” Alexandra said, and Magdalene frowned.
“Is something the matter? You sound rather breathless?”
Alexandra was grateful that the heat of her bath disguised the blush of her cheeks as a normal flush, “Absolutely nothing is wrong, Magdalene, go on now.”
Magdalene gave her a doubtful look but still closed the door and left. Alexandra gave a sigh, finishing her bath in a business-like manner before putting on her frock and rushing to join her sister in breaking her fast.
They had their meal in companionable silence before Constance came to chivvy them to make ready for their journey. They were to travel to Town to begin to prepare for Magdalene’s coming out. Already the invitations to events were waiting their replies and letters were flying between Lady Easton, Lady Mumford, and Magdalene. Alexandra tried to remain an observer. This was Magdalene’s time to shine, and all she wanted to do was support her sister.
They were to travel by chaise accompanied by their ladies’ maids and two footmen, and already their luggage was being loaded. Footpads were not so common this far from London, but that did not mean there were no risks. Two girls traveling by themselves were always vulnerable. They were still excited about the trip, however.
* * *
They sat in the carriage, Constance and Magdalene’s lady’s maid, Sarah, on one side, while Alexandra and her sister sat on the other. Two footmen rode on the back of the chaise while the post boys led the horses.
Magdalene kept up a constant chatter, talking about their neighbors, the countryside they passed and what they could expect in London. She had been too young to accompany Alexandra to her own coming out so this would be her first experience of the season. Alexandra was torn between wanting to manage her sister’s expectations and letting her revel in the excitement as long as she could.
All too soon they were drawing up outside their father’s Mayfair residence, and their brother was waiting to meet them with a broad grin on his face.
“David!” Magdalene exclaimed with a huge grin of her own, alighting from the carriage straight into his arms. He took her hands, touching his lips to both of them before turning to Alexandra.
“Xandra! A vision as always,” he said, arms spread out in welcome.
“It’s good to see you, David. Are you our official welcome committee?”
“Indeed, I am as Father is delayed in Parliament. You must be quite exhausted; your rooms are ready for you. You may go up directly and freshen up.”
“You are a godsend, little brother. A prince among men.”
“Don’t I know it,” David said, leading them into the house.
It was a good start to their visit, and as soon as they freshened up, they descended the stairs to find glasses of port awaiting them in the drawing room, as well as their sister-in-law, Lady Mumford, and her aunt, Lady Easton.
“We are so very excited for you, Magdalene,” Lady Easton said, “I feel sure your season will be just as successful as your sister’s, and you will secure an offer in no time.”
Magdalene merely nodded and smiled nervously, not being that well acquainted with Lady Easton. Alexandra reached out and grasped her hand briefly in reassurance and then gratefully accepted her glass of port as they sat down to socialize.
The door opened, and the butler announced that dinner was served.
As they had their dinner, Lady Easton interrogated them on their plans for the season, what invitations they had accepted, and whether their wardrobe was up to scratch.
“I am sure your provincial dressmaker did her best, but now that you are here, we should visit the milliners, seamstress and shoe makers. Your coming-out ball gown, Lady Magdalene, have you taken measurements yet?”
“We thought we would visit Bond Street tomorrow,” Magdalene had her soup spoon hanging halfway between her plate and mouth as she waited to see if she would have to answer any more questions.
“Very good. I shall accompany you as I know the best places to find suitable fabrics and my modiste shall be on hand to make you an unforgettable gown.”
“Thank you very much, my Lady Easton,” Magdalene said finally able to drink her soup.
“Call me Aunt,” Lady Easton said, “Now I expect you are tired so we will not linger after dinner. Tomorrow is a very busy day.”
Magdalene and Alexandra exchanged glances and then looked at their brother, “David, will Father be joining us?”
“Not tonight,” the young Viscount said, “I expect you shall see him tomorrow.”
Magdalene nodded and focused on the food on her plate. Alexandra reached out under the table and squeezed her thigh. She knew Magdalene had really been looking forward to spending some time with their father as she had not seen him since the previous Christmas when he’d visited Ramsbury Manor to preside over Christmas dinner, distribute the annual gifts to all the servants, and receive homage from the cottagers.
“That will be good,” Alexandra said to cover Magdalene’s disappointment.
* * *
A whirlwind of shopping, socializing, and answering correspondence made the next few days fly by. Alexandra had every excuse to avoid receiving the Duke of Summerhill, pleading occupation with preparing her sister for her coming out. In spite of that, the Duke still sent her daily letters, letting her know he was thinking of her and looking forward to their meeting at Magdalene’s ball. Alexandra tried to reciprocate his sentiments, but it was difficult when every moment thinking about spending time with him was a torment.
She could not stop thinking about the ubiquitous mole beside his mouth and having to kiss it perhaps, one day. In her spare time, she read books on facial markings, trying to acclimatize herself to them and thus lose her ambivalence. She would not know if it was working until she laid eyes on the Duke, but somehow she suspected that her revulsion was still strong.
She closed her eyes, thinking about the Duke, his tall, broad-shouldered visage, the beautiful green of his eyes, his dark hair that was a match for hers… the scar above his left eyebrow that no doubt had an intriguin
g origin. Her father had done well for her. He had chosen a young man, a swell of the first stare, and clearly devoted to her if his letters were to be believed. There was absolutely no reason for unhappiness. Many a girl would give their right arm for such a match.
I must stop feeling ungrateful.
She turned over in bed, facing the open window and tried to think of happier thoughts. She could see the sky from her window, stars twinkling merry and bright for her enjoyment. Attempting to lose herself in them, she got up from the bed and went to sit by the window.
The clop of horses’ hooves drew her attention from the sky above to the road beneath her where an undoubtedly late reveler was just now making his way home in his curricle.
She wondered which of their neighbors it might be and where they might be coming from. She imagined there was some rake ensconced in the carriage, in his altitudes, having spent his evening at cards or perhaps at the theatre.
She wondered if Duke Summerhill would let her visit the theatre once they were married. Perhaps she would walk out with him at Vauxhall gardens although father thought it was too common a past time for a proper Lady. Indeed, she would not be able to visit with him without a chaperone, and she didn’t see the portly Lady Easton agreeing to join them on such a walk.
She sighed, returning to her bed and tried to sleep.
Chapter 4
Within Amesace
The Duke and his brother were fashionably late to the ball. Lady Magdalene Abbott’s coming out was held at the Earl of Ramsbury's Mayfair manor and, by the time Percy and Walter arrived, the place was a crush.
Percy sought out the Earl to make his manners and found him at the card tables with a group of his peers. He could hear the merry sounds of a quadrille playing from the ballroom.
Percy turned to his brother, “Perhaps you will find a bride tonight,” he said with a grin.
Walter snorted, “I am in no hurry to get leg shackled, brother. I shall await the joyous occasion of your nuptials before seeking a bride myself.”
“Your Grace!” the Earl called sounding both annoyed and pleased, “I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it tonight.”
Percy hesitated not knowing what to say. He was a little taken aback at Ramsbury’s attitude because as far as he knew he had no real obligation to be here tonight. Nevertheless, he smiled turning to his brother and gesturing for him to come closer.
“May I present my brother, Lord Walter Bradford,” he said.
Lord Ramsbury turned to Walter with a bow, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” he said. He then turned to face the ballroom gesturing for Percy and his brother to follow him.
“Allow me to present my daughters to you; Lady Alexandra and Lady Magdalene Abbot,” the Earl said coming to a stop in front of two young ladies who were sitting beside a buxom madam extravagantly dressed in an elaborate ball gown, hair perfectly coiffed in a grey wig, and adorned liberally with diamonds.
For a moment, Percy was dazzled by the vulgar display of wealth, but then his eyes cut to the side.
He caught sight of a vision in magenta and gold, long dark hair unadorned by any wig or frippery, framing a face that was at once heartbreaking and beguiling. He could not take his eyes off of her. He was drowning in her dark, fathomless eyes which swirled with confusion; seemingly beseeching him to save her.
Percy froze, surprised by his own reaction to the maiden. So caught up was he in his thoughts, that he did not even hear her name. She rose from her seat, curtsying prettily in front of him.
“Your Grace,” Lady Alexandra said quietly raising her eyes to his from beneath her lashes.
For a moment his mouth was too dry for him to answer. He bowed to her, feeling his skin heat inexplicably. His hands trembled, and his heart pounded a staccato beneath his chest.
“The pleasure is all mine, my Lady,” he said taking her gloved hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He remembered that she was not alone and turned to her sister, Magdalene.
He took her gloved hand as well and touched it to his lips. Now that he had recovered his senses, he recognized the Madame they were with. Lady Easton, a well-known member of the ton and one not to be trifled with. He bowed to her as well and then presented his brother to the sisters and their chaperone.
The formalities done, he immediately turned back to Lady Alexandra, “My Lady, may I have the honor of the next dance?”
Lady Alexandra curtsied again, “Indeed you may, Your Grace,” she said softly.
Percy had to lean forward to hear her as her voice was soft and breathy but not weak. She seemed to have no care as to whether she was audible or not. She seemed to subscribe to the premise that if one wanted to hear what she was saying, they would make the effort to listen keenly.
Her whole demeanor was reserved. She was withdrawn from everyone around her except for her sister with whom she kept exchanging loaded glances.
Percy wanted very much to be the recipient of one of her loaded looks but knew instinctively that he would have to gain her trust in order to be admitted into the inner sanctum of her heart. He vowed right there and then that he would do everything that he could to win her.
Next, to him, his brother cleared his throat rather loudly as if he wanted to get Percy's attention. Percy glanced at Walter knowing somehow that there would be a quelling look in his eye. Percy hadn't even committed any transgressions…yet. He refrained from rolling his eyes reaching for Lady Alexandra's hand even as Walter asked her sister, Lady Magdalene to dance.
Once on the dance floor, Percy had eyes for no one but his partner. She kept sneaking tiny glances at him from beneath her lashes, and he felt like he would do anything to make her look him in the eye. He cast about for something to say to her.
“It is strange that I have not seen you before, my Lady. Do you come to London often?”
She stepped delicately to the minuet, before condescending to answer him, “I am not here often, no, Your Grace. In fact, the only reason I am here now is for my sister’s coming out. And, of course, to visit my betrothed.”
He felt his heart jump in surprise when she spoke of her betrothal. There was curious emphasis to her words like she sought to remind them both of her status. Emotion surged in his belly, and if he had known to whom she was promised, he might have called him out here and now.
“Indeed?” he asked attempting to regain his composure.
“Indeed, Your Grace, though it is kind of you to ask.”
“Your intended is indeed a lucky man, my Lady. Forsooth I feel robbed of the chance to woo you.”
A laugh escaped her; Percy suspected that it had done so unintentionally. Her eyes lit up like opals, and her face transformed from withdrawn and mysterious to open and alive. Percy was transfixed, conjecturing that few people ever saw her like this. He felt a curious gratitude to a god he barely acknowledged that he was now one of those people.
“May I be so forward as to ask you for the next dance?” he asked.
She laughed again possibly in disbelief and shook her head, “I cannot do that, Your Grace,” she said, “my dance card is quite full.”
“In that case, my Lady, would you walk out with me in the gardens?”
She stared at him in disbelief, “Your Grace, I am betrothed to be married!” she exclaimed reproachfully.
“Indeed, perhaps you are, but that does not mean that you cannot break the betrothal,” he said - very serious - even as she gaped at him in utter shock.
She floundered seemingly at a loss for what to do next while he watched her with a slight smile on his face. He wanted the Lady Alexandra Abbot and he would have her.
The supper bell rang, and Percy held out his hand, “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to supper, my Lady?” he asked Lady Alexandra.
“Why, Your Grace, I am the one who would be honored at your favor,” she replied. Percy did not hesitate to extend his arm to her, and together they walked to the supper room. He seated her at the middle of the
table and promptly took his place beside her, eager to engage in conversation and learn more about this intriguing young woman.
“May I ask a question?” Percy asked Lady Alexandra.
“Indeed, you may, Your Grace,” she replied with a modest inclination of her head as she picked up her soup spoon.
“Who is your betrothed?” he asked, neglecting his own spoon.
Lady Alexandra blanched in surprise. “That is a rude question for such limited acquaintance,” she said, “Duke or not.”
Percy laughed picking up his spoon at last, “My dear Lady,” he said, “this is why I just must know. Not many people would have called me out the way that you have.”
“Perhaps that is because you are not nearly as rude to them as you have been to me…Your Grace.”
Percy laughed again. “My Lady, if I have been anything but unfailingly polite to you, I do sincerely apologize. Be that as it may, I still beg you to tell me who the lucky one is that has secured your hand in marriage.”
Lady Alexandra's laughter rang out like the pealing of bells on Sunday morning summoning him to worship. He could not help but respond in kind.
“If you really must know, my husband to be is the Duke of Summerhill.”
Percy felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his competition would be a gobble-cock–at least that way he would have some advantage. Nevertheless, he was not going to let the fact that her fiancé was his peer stop him from pursuing her.
“Do you have tender feelings for Summerhill?” he asked knowing it was a tad direct but really needing to find out where she stood, if this was a love match, or if there was a chance, he could change her mind.
“Why do you ask me such things?” she asked sounding most distressed.
“I fear I have become enamored of you within the course of our short acquaintance, my Lady. I would really like to know if there's any hope for me.”
Lady Alexandra frowned, “You are not enamored, Your Grace, you basically see something that is now beyond your reach and say to yourself, I must have it.”
Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady Page 3
