Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady

by Olivia Bennet

  Alexandra let herself be led like a recalcitrant child. It was mere conjecture, she consoled herself, Constance could not know for sure that there had been somebody else in the garden with her. As long as she said nothing, then nothing could be proved.

  Her heart pounded from the excitement–of almost being caught or from the kiss or being in Percy’s arms, she did not know. All she knew was that she had never felt so alive in her life.

  She climbed into her bed and listened as Constance closed her bedchamber door behind her. Her lady’s maid’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, audible in her sturdy shoes on the stone floor. She thought about sneaking over to Magdalene’s bedchamber and confiding in her sister. But it really was late, and she had already been discovered out of bed once. Twice might be asking for trouble. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

  She closed her eyes, hand trailing down along the smooth, soft worn cotton of her night rail, a thin barrier between her hand and her warm flesh. Her body heated with excitement, the blood thrumming through her veins, as the core of her womanhood throbbed with feeling.

  She wanted something; she did not know what that something was. She grabbed at the thin material bunching it against her belly as her legs crossed and her bosom heaved.

  “Percy,” she whispered with longing, and her knees fell open as the cold air brushed against her sensitive flesh. It was somewhat of a relief, but she wanted more. She had a feeling that if Percy were here, he would know exactly what she needed. She dropped her night rail down over her legs, eyes scrunched shut in mortification.

  What was she thinking?

  Chapter 6

  There Are Complications

  Percy burst into his London residence at 5 a.m. that morning full of pep. He was whistling a tune and even deigned to do a two-step as he deposited his hat and his cane by the front door.

  At this early hour, the house was too quiet, although no doubt the kitchen must be bustling. He felt peckish and called out to his butler.

  “Rawlings!”

  He heard hurrying footsteps coming from below stairs and before long Rawlings appeared, his coat half unbuttoned. Percy lifted an eyebrow looking his butler up and down in disdain.

  “Well, you are disheveled. Did I summon you too early?”

  “No m’lud,” Rawlings mumbled hastening to button his coat, “we were not expecting you to be awake yet.”

  “Yes, well, I have not been to bed yet. Bring me a repast to my room as well as some hot water. I desire a bath.”

  “Yes, m’lud.” Rawlings disappeared back down the stairs.

  “And you shall call me Your Grace,” Percy mumbled in annoyance as he climbed the stairs to his bed chambers. He had inherited the house as well as its servants from his late uncle, and they had not yet gotten used to the change in title. Percy did not mind it much - he was Greenwick after all, whether they called him m’lud or Your Grace.

  Still, it rankled.

  He had just reached his door when the sound of a footfall made him pause. “Where have you been?” his brother asked sounding irritated.

  Percy merely smiled. “I was not aware that I answer to you,” he said haughtily, putting the full weight of his duchy behind the words.

  His brother took another step towards him. “I was worried,” he said, his tone softer and Percy felt a sliver of guilt pierce his heart. He and his brother had always been very close. They looked out for each other having been the last survivors of an illness that had decimated their family.

  Seven years earlier, the Bradfords had retreated to Rouen in Normandy where they held property. They had wanted to winter in France that year before returning to the continent for the season. Agnes and George Bradford had taken their three children; Percy, Carolyn, and Walter with them as it was a family holiday.

  Walter and Percy had spent a lot of time running and riding and getting into all sorts of trouble while Carolyn and their mother had spent their days shopping and sewing and carrying out other womanly pursuits. Their father had ridden out, socializing with the neighbors and conducting business deals.

  It was an idyllic time until George had fallen sick after riding through the thick fog which reportedly smelled of sulfur. The fog could be seen on the odd evening, but it had been indistinguishable at a distance and had not completely disappeared until the next day. It had been dense in some areas compared to others, especially in streets.

  Walter and Percy had escaped most of the exposure as they had spent their days exploring the castle, riding the horses, or swimming in the lake. Their mother and Carolyn had been exposed as they shopped for muslin and bombazine and caught up with the latest fashions. The sickness had become an epidemic.

  First, their father George had gone down with chills and lassitude. He had lost his appetite and had complained of slight pains in his arms and legs. This had been followed by bilious looseness, nausea, and vomiting. They had summoned a physician, and all he had reported was that the contagion had been decimating the countryside

  The Duchess of Ramsbury had wanted to leave, but by then her husband had been too weak, and her daughter had been getting sick. The Duchess herself could feel the lassitude taking over as well as the chill.

  She could barely get herself to eat, and she had begged her two boys to stay away from them. She had called Percy aside and had spoken to him.

  You and your brother are not yet infected by this disease. Tomorrow you must take the stagecoach and leave us. We will be alright. Go to your uncle. He will look after you.

  Percy had wanted to cry and beg. He had wanted to stay with his family but the Bradfords did not cry, and the Bradfords did not beg. Bradfords did as they were told.

  The Duchess had put the boys in the hands of the footman, Rogers, who had bundled them into a curricle and had spirited them away from their family.

  It had been five days later when the boys had learned that their father had begun to bleed at the nose, get headaches and high fever. That had led to delirium; his tongue had turned black and moist with green ulcers. Seven days later he had been dead. Carolyn had followed two days later, and their mother had been the last to go.

  Percy had wanted to die. He had waited in despair for the illness to claim his brother and then himself. He would have taken the pistol to his brain if it hadn’t been for Walter. Taking care of his brother had kept him alive.

  “I do apologize for my insensitivity. I... took a walk.”

  Walter sighed, “Did you really? Don't think I did not notice your interest in the Lady Alexandra Abbot last night. What did you do?”

  Percy grinned; his brother knew him well.

  “I just needed to speak to her,” Percy said.

  “Percy!” Walter exclaimed in resignation, “are we to expect her father in the morning demanding satisfaction?”

  Percy laughed. “You wound me with your lack of faith, Walter.”

  Walter sighed, shook his head and laughed. “Why are you impossible Percy?”

  “Why are you such a stick in the mud, brother?” Percy retorted.

  “Somebody has to be,” Walter murmured, mostly to himself.

  Percy sobered, “Walter, I am in love,” he said.

  “Felicitations. The lady is betrothed. So says the on-dits from her sister’s coming-out ball.”

  “Not for long,” Percy said.

  Walter rolled his eyes. “Whatever you're planning on doing, stop,” he said.

  “I'm not letting her go, Walter. I'm just not.”

  “What will you do now, Percy? What will you do? Will you challenge her betrothed to pistols or swords at dawn?”

  “I was thinking more of a game of cards,” he said.

  Walter looked shocked, “I beg your pardon? Summerhill is a man of honor, he would never agree to such a bargain.”

  “One never knows until one tries. It is not, after all, a love match. Summerhill is in no need of an advantageous marriage.”

  Walter quirked his brow, “So, is this a love match
for you or is it an advantageous marriage that you seek?”

  “Lady Alexandra Abbot is my heart,” Percy said narrowing his eyes at his brother. Walter lifted his hands in supplication.

  “I meant no insult brother, but how do you know that it's not a love match for Summerhill too?”

  “Because if it was, he would have married her by now. In any case, she feels no passion for him.”

  “She told you so?”

  “In not so many words,” Percy said.

  “Lud, please do not say you have demoralized her.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith, brother. She is no lady bird to be used and discarded.”

  “I did not say she was. I do notice that you did not deny that you compromised her.”

  Percy did not want to lie to his brother, and so he kept quiet.

  “‘pon rep!” His brother exclaimed in exasperation.

  Percy merely grinned. The belabored steps of the butler’s feet ascending the stairs stopped their conversation. “We shall speak later. At the moment I am exhausted. I need to get some sleep.”

  Rawlings approached them, the heavy-laden tray in his arms. Behind him, two footmen carried buckets of hot water. Percy opened the door to his bedchamber, standing aside for the servants to enter. Rawlings put the tray down on the armoire and then turned down the bed for Percy. The footman poured the hot water into the tub and then they too left him alone.

  His valet emerged from the side room and came up to Percy to help him with his clothes. Once he was undressed, he dismissed the valet, scooped up a mince pie and got into the tub with it. Thoughtfully, he mulled over his idea to challenge Summerhill to a game of cards. It was crass for sure, he knew it. He also knew that he was a blasted good card player while he had heard that Summerhill was an excellent shot.

  * * *

  Francis Godwin, the Duke of Summerhill was a gentleman’s gentleman. He showed the proper deference to his betters and expected the same from his underlings.

  He first clapped eyes on Lady Alexandra Abbot when she was but a slip of a girl. He had been riding to his country estate when he stopped at Ramsbury Manor because one of his horses threw a shoe. He was heading home from Eton where he was on his second-to-last year. As he waited impatiently for the footman to have the shoe repaired, he decided to take the air. He was a little too restless to sit in the house and wanted to stretch his legs.

  He walked along the Ramsbury manor grounds admiring the wonderfully landscaped flower beds as well as the sea of green that was well-kept grass and tall trees. Rounding a corner, he was surprised to see a girl hunched over, sitting on a rock and humming tunelessly to herself. By her dress, he knew she wasn't a servant, but wondered what she could possibly be doing all alone so far from the manor.

  “Little girl?” he said, thinking to return her to her governess before something untoward happened to her.

  “I am not a little girl, not anymore,” she said, her words slurring worryingly.

  “Are you not indeed?” Francis had asked tickled pink at her forlorn face, her long curtain of dark hair shielding her from his gaze.

  “No, indeed, I am not,” she murmured looking profoundly saddened at this state of affairs.

  “Well then,” Francis said, “I offer you my congratulations on your womanhood.”

  The girl pouted up at him. “Are you laughing at me?” she looked up, her eyes unfocused. Francis suspected she might have taken a little too much laudanum.

  Francis solemnly put a hand to his chest, “I swear to you upon my mother's name that I am in earnest.”

  The girl seemed to ponder his words with excessive seriousness. Alright then,” she said at last.

  He did not want to leave without finding out who she was, “What is your name, little princess?”

  “Alexandra,” she said sounding ever more miserable.

  “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Alexandra, my name is Francis.”

  “Hello, Francis.” She sounded woozy and uninterested. She was not even looking at him but staring blearily at something that he could not see.

  “Hello, Alexandra.” She looked up then, her dark eyes meeting his green ones.

  Looking into the liquid depths of her eyes, Francis felt something he’d never felt before with a lady–connection. It was at that point that he knew that he was going to marry her one day.

  * * *

  Percy woke up with The Duke of Summerhill, Francis Godwin, on his mind. He wondered if he should send the man a letter, asking to meet. But first, he thought he should speak with Lady Alexandra and see what she thought. Of the two of them, she knew him better than Percy did.

  It then occurred to him that it was time to end his relationship with his chére-amie. He would settle a sum of money on her and wish her well.

  Monique would not be happy, but she knew when they started, that this had an expiry date. That would be his first port of call. He needed to end the relationship without delay so that he could concentrate on the new one he was embarking on.

  He felt himself to be the luckiest man alive having found a potential bride who not only satisfied his need for a good dowry but also stirred his heart. True, it was very pedestrian to get married for love rather than money, but if one could do both, then one was indeed very fortunate.

  He rang the little bell summoning his valet and made sure to dress very carefully. A gold waistcoat, black breeches, and the long black morning coat completed his ensemble. He wore a pair of fine black Hessians on his feet before descending the stairs for breakfast.

  Walter was already seated at the table, the day’s newspaper in hand. He folded it as Percy came in, putting it aside in favor of conversation.

  Percy sighed, knowing that his brother was preparing to interrogate him, and he was not ready to answer any questions.

  “Not now, Walter,” he said trying to head his brother off.

  “Then when? I see you are suitably suited and booted. What do you intend to do today?”

  Percy smiled, “I intend to let my inamorata go.”

  Walter’s eyebrows rose, “You tired of her already?”

  Percy rolled his eyes, “Not Lady Alexandra, dimwit. My chére-amie.”

  “Ah, the lovely Miss Monique.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What shall you tell her? That you have found another?”

  “She knows I am to marry, “Percy said with a quelling frown, “I am sure she expects this to come any day.”

  “You shall not leave her to fade into pecuniary, will you?”

  “Knowing full well the effects of want on a person? I think not.”

  Walter smiled affectionately. “You are a good man, Percy.”

  “Indeed I am. I have been telling you that for years.”

  The butler brought in a platter and Percy applied himself to his meal. His first call would be his man of business from whom he would obtain a sum of money to settle upon Monique. After that, he might call on the local fencing club where he had word that Summerhill was wont to frequent.

  Perhaps he would take the measure of the man and try to gauge what the best approach would be to getting him to break his betrothal to the lovely Lady Alexandra. If he should refuse, then Percy would declare it an affair of honor and call Summerhill out. Whatever happened, he would not lose the woman he had found.

  He stepped out, where his footman had a curricle waiting. Monique resided in St. John’s Wood in a semi-detached villa paid for by him. He would gift her the house for her loyalty and service. Thanks to his winnings from Lord Brimley, he could actually afford to do that now. Once he was free of her, he would call on the Earl and see how firm his plans for his daughter were.

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this, Your Grace?” Monique said sadly as he gave her the news.

  “Indeed, I am, mistress. It is time.”

  She sighed, flopping down on the settee in misery, “I did so hope to persuade you to take me shopping. I am in need of a new fichu and some w
inter gloves. Perhaps a coat as well now that I will not have you to keep me warm.” Her tongue snaked out, wetting her lips seductively. Percy smiled with a modicum of regret. She really was a lovely woman.

  “Of course, my dear, I should be glad to accompany you one last time.”

  Chapter 7

  Misunderstandings Abound

  Alexandra was woken by Magdalene jumping up and down on her bed. She startled awake, shooting to sit up and deal with the perceived danger. She sighed, relaxing when she saw her sister.

  “Magdalene, you have to stop this. You are a young lady now, you can't go jumping on people’s beds.”

  “Pshaw!” Magdalene waved her hands dismissively, “There's no one here to see but you.”

  “Soon you will receive an offer. You will be someone's bride. You must start to comport yourself like an adult.”

  “Well, you received an offer, and you are not yet someone's bride. I think I have time.”

  Alexandra sighed unable to come up with an argument to counter that piece of logic.

  “Come on Alexandra, get up. We are wasting daylight. Let us go for ices at The Pot and Pineapple today.”

  “I am sure Lady Easton already has a schedule for us.”

  “Not until later this evening. We have to go to the theatre. But for now, you must come with me and get an ice. I have never been to The Pot and Pineapple and you promised.”

  Magdalene pouted prettily making Alexandra laugh.

  “Do not make cow eyes at me like I'm one of your suitors, Magdalene,” she chastised.

  Magdalene jumped off the bed with excitement. “So we're going?” she asked, skipping about the bedchamber.

  Alexandra flung her blankets off, putting her feet on the cold stone floor. “We shall if you hand me my slippers this minute.”

  Magdalene hastened to do as she was told just as Constance came in with a tray and a pitcher of water. Alexandra washed up, and they had their morning meal together with Magdalene chattering away in excitement. Once Alexandra had dressed in a suitable walking frock, and they were shod and cloaked, they left the house to take the air.