So unlike Peter. Just the two syllables of his name in her mind had her fairly running down the street toward his estate. Toward home, for it had become so the moment she fell in love with him. Wherever Peter was, that was where she ought to be. She couldn’t wait to tell him that, once he was cured.
Epilogue
“And how are you feeling this morning?” Lavinia asked as she took a seat next to Peter.
It had been five days since he had woken up from his fever. His anger at the marquess was paltry compared to how enraged he felt when he had learned just how long he had been ill. What if he never recovered? What if those walks down the hallway were all he was every capable of?
He cared not a fig when he heard the gentleman was awaiting a trial where he would almost certainly be found guilty and thrown in jail. All he cared about were his legs, which did not seem nearly so able as they had been before the fever.
But it turned out that Peter’s worries were unfounded, for each passing day, his strength returned. His legs still pained him on and off, and Lavinia had warned him that they would not resume walking exercises until he was strong enough to stand up unaided, but he was hopeful. Her presence, her words, made him such.
“Good,” he said, nodding as he sipped from the tea Stevens had brought for him moments ago.
“Any pains?” Lavinia asked.
Two weeks ago, if a physician had asked him such a question, Peter’s automatic reply would have been “no.” But now, he knew the importance of honesty with one’s physician. Honesty had allowed him to see himself for the man he was, rather than the man he thought himself to be. Being honest that afternoon with Lavinia, after his fight with Lady Magdalene, had allowed him to realize his strength, his ability to heal and recover and come out even stronger than before.
So he answered truthfully. “One,” he said, putting his hand over his heart.
“Your heart?” she asked, jumping off from her chair and leaning toward him, removing his hand. “Let me hear,” she asked, bending down to place her ear over that part of his chest.
Peter chuckled, and Lavinia lifted her head, looking confused.
“Why are you laughing if you are in pain?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Because it is not a physical pain I am feeling, Lavinia. Rather, it is an emotional one.”
“I do not understand,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then allow me to explain,” Peter told her, taking her hand and gesturing for her to resume her seat.
Lavinia did so, but there was a guarded, almost nervous look on her face, and she was nearly as pale as the horrible beige dress she was wearing.
“You are the most interesting woman I have ever met, and that is without including your status as an unofficial physician. You are forthright and obstinate and stubborn and beautiful,” he said, the last word causing Lavinia’s eyebrows to rise.
“And it is because of all those qualities, along with many others that I promise to catalogue in depth at a later date and time, in a more romantic place that does not smell of emetics,” he said. “That I would like you to be my wife. Miss Lavinia Bell, physician extraordinaire, will you marry me?”
Peter was then treated to the rare sight of a completely speechless and nonplussed Lavinia. Flashes of happiness, confusion, anger and a thousand other emotions flitted across her face before a mixture of the first two finally settled on her fine features.
“But I am not a member of the ton. I would make a terrible duchess. Have you seen how I dress?” she asked, gesturing at her frock. “And my hair? I do not know how to fashion it in anything other than a bun! And I would not give up my duties as a physician, you know, not even if they were scandalous. I won’t cease helping the ill and infirm of London, especially those less fortunate. I’ve spend too long studying and practising and…”
She trailed off when Peter brought her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on her palm.
“That is all fine,” he whispered, forcing her to lean in toward him. “I do not expect you to change, nor do I wish you to do so. I like you. I love you,” he amended, finding the second statement more fully explained his feelings. “Exactly as you are. Though I would not mind you in clothes that more successfully drew attention to the assets which I find most pleasing,” he said, letting his eyes linger on her breasts.
This earned him a scandalized laugh, but that laugh settled into a happy smile, accompanied by words that warmed him to his very core. “All right then. Yes, I will marry you.”
Lavinia couldn’t help the tears in her eyes when she saw Peter standing at the altar. He had worked so hard these last three months to gain back his strength, and his diligence with his exercises was something to be admired.
Though of course, she was not always able to admire it. As soon as their engagement was finalized, she moved out of Peter’s house and back into the one she shared with her father.
Her father was not happy about the engagement at first. It was clear that he was mourning the loss of not only his daughter, but his business partner as well. Therefore, Lavinia did all she could to remind him that she was, after all, moving only down the street, and would still be working with him most days of the week.
“You must understand, my dear Linny,” her father had explained one evening while they were enjoying a whiskey. “You are all I have left. There is so much of your mother in you, and without you around, I fear I will lose her entirely. I will be a lonely old man, drowning himself in work and books to combat his solitary existence.”
“You will do no such thing!” Lavinia had scolded him. “You attend plenty of lectures and seminars where there are like-minded people about with whom you can spend your time. And soon, hopefully, you will also have grandchildren to take care of, and everything I have seen of motherhood tells me that I will need quite a lot of familial help if the poor dears are to thrive.”
This seemed to cheer her father some, and the man leading Lavinia down the aisle had a wide smile on his face rather than the anxious frown that had marred his features when she had first returned home.
Of course, lovely as her father’s smile was, it was nothing in comparison to the beaming grin on Peter’s face as he watched her approach.
He looked so solid and strong standing in front of the vicar, his figure put to best advantage in a morning suit that showed off his slim, muscular limbs. His thick golden hair was slightly obscured by his top hat, and Lavinia found herself itching to run her fingers through it.
There will be time for that later, she reminded herself, her belly swooping in anticipation of their wedding night.
Though she and Peter had shared a few tender kisses behind closed doors, they had gone no further, for he was intent on preserving her virtue until such time when it was his for the taking.
When Lavinia finally reached Peter and her father handed her off with a kiss on the cheek, it was to find Peter with a look of similar anticipation on his face. There was so much to be excited about now, so many good things ahead of them. This wedding, this union, was just the beginning.
A hundred thoughts flew through Peter’s mind when Lavinia drew his hands away from his eyes.
She had asked him to cover them while she changed into her “bedroom finery” as she called it. In the last three months, he had her outfitted with an entirely new wardrobe. There were functional but attractive day dresses for when she was working, a few evening gowns for those times when her presence at a function was absolutely necessary, and then there was everything else.
Sheer stockings so fine they seemed to be made of spider webs, silken chemises in pale peaches and golds that accented her porcelain, creamy skin. Night dresses made of frothy lace that only just covered her, corsets so bedecked with lace and threaded accents they were practically works of art.
Yes, Peter had bought Lavinia a functional wardrobe, as she requested, but he had made sure that there was always something sensual on her person, something to remind her tha
t she was not just a physician, but a woman. His woman.
Therefore, Peter had been rather excited to see what ensemble she would choose for their first night together. And he was not disappointed when he dropped his hands, for there, standing in front of him, was the best outfit of all: her bare skin.
Lavinia was standing before him naked, clothed only in stockings that encircled her curved, thick thighs. She was an erotic dream, and the sight of her made everything in Peter alight with excitement.
“Do you like it?” Lavinia asked, sounding nervous.
How could she be nervous? She was a vision, the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her body was beyond anything his wildest imaginings could have concocted. She was perfect in every way, and he told her so now, taking her by the hand and tilting her chin up to look at him.
“I love it. I love you,” he said, before bringing her in for a soft, chaste kiss.
He could feel her relax, feel her falling into the kiss, her lips pressing harder against his, begging for entry.
He let her in, letting her tongue sweep in and meet his, the contact sending fire right down to his member. He was clothed in a silk banyan, beneath which he, like his wife, was naked.
And thank goodness for that, because it allowed him to stretch and lengthen as Lavinia pressed closer against him, stepping into the gap between his thighs until her hips were lined up with his. It was a delicious feeling, holding her so close, feeling her warm skin under his fingertips, hearing her soft mewls of pleasure as he nipped at her bottom lip.
“Peter,” she breathed, his name such a perfect pair of syllables on her lips. “Take me to bed.”
“I can see that the sight of my state of undress has overwhelmed you,” he said, drawing back and shaking his head with a faux frown on his face. “Let me remind you that I am currently sitting on a bed, so we are, effectively, at the bed which you are so desirous to visit.”
He was teasing her, baiting her, and she rose to it exactly as he wanted her to, a look of faint frustration crossing her face as she rolled her eyes at him.
“You know what I mean,” she told him, her characteristic raised eyebrow expression glowering at him.
“Indeed, I do,” he conceded, and with that, he stood up, drew her into her arms, and threw her on the bed.
This was partly for her own benefit, to get her to laugh, and he succeeded. But it was partly for his own as well, for being able to pick up his wife and throw her on their marriage bed made him feel strong, capable. And that was exactly what he wanted to feel right before he laid with his wife for the first time.
Crawling onto the bed, Peter began to kiss his way up Lavinia’s legs, lingering on each curve and dip. She squirmed and giggled as he made his way up her thighs, but her laughter quieted when Peter stopped at the apex of her thighs.
When he looked up, it was to see Lavinia with a look of heated anticipation on her face. She was waiting for him, for his touch, his tongue.
One of the benefits of marrying a physician was that her knowledge of bedroom exploits was vast. She knew all that went on between a man and woman, and therefore, there were no shocked gasps when he lowered his head and brought his mouth to her center, only sighs of pleasure.
Peter relished the taste of her, the feel of warmth and safety between her thighs.
I could stay here forever. Peter drew his tongue up and down the sensitive nub of her clitoris. But while he knew there would be nights for such happenings, tonight it was about the joining of their bodies. About him burying himself inside her and forever sealing their connection.
And so, after bringing his wife to climactic release twice, he prepared himself to do just that, positioning his hips between her thighs this time.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Are you comfortable? Are you—”
“Peter,” Lavinia interrupted, looking more at peace, more relax, than he had ever seen her.
“Yes, my love?”
“Come to me,” she commanded.
He did exactly that, slowly bringing himself inside her, inch by aching inch, allowing her time and space to adjust to the feel and length of him.
Lavinia stayed relax, no wincing or discomfort flashing across her face. Instead, that look of peace slowly transformed into one of pleasure as he began to move, finding a rhythm that spoke to both their bodies, that allowed them to sing.
And sing Lavinia did, in small gasps and cries of “Oh, Peter,” and “more,” and “faster,” until finally she was coming. She squeezed tight around him, her hands digging into his buttocks as she pulled him closer to her, until there was no air between them, until they were skin to luscious, smooth skin.
Peter had never felt so accomplished, so victorious, as he did just then, seeing his wife slowly come down from the height of pleasure. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed, and there was a satisfied smile on her mouth that he knew he would chase forever more.
It was only moments later that he himself finished with a final thrust, the action pushing them close together again, and then he was slowly relaxing, settling his arms around her, his head in the crook of her neck.
“I love you, Lavinia,” he whispered in her ear, unable to resist biting at the lobe that was so easily available to him in that position.
“And I you, Peter. Now and forever,” she responded, kissing his cheek and wrapping her arms around him.
They stayed like that for minutes or hours, it was impossible to tell. Time means nothing when two lovers are entwined, their mouths, hearts and minds as one.
Eventually, the candles were blown out, the fire was banked, and Peter curled Lavinia into him, her back to his front. His knees curved to fit hers, his legs relaxing as sleep back to overtake him.
That this was the least marvellous thing to happen all day truly spoke of just how wonderful a life he and Lavinia were going to live, if functional legs that moved as they should could be so easily ignored in favor of the feeling of his wife’s body tucked into his.
She might have worked miracles on his body, but her very presence in his life was the true blessing. Peter knew that he would never, not for the rest of his life, forget how truly luck he was to have married Miss Lavinia Bell, physician, duchess, and most importantly, friend.
* * *
The End
Also by Violet Hamers
Thank you for reading The Duke she Desires!
I hope you loved it, as much as I loved the process of writing it ♥
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With that being said, if you enjoyed this book, you can also check out my full Amazon Book Catalogue HERE.
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You are the reason I’m doing what I love the most in this world! Thank you for your love and support!
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Violet Hamers
About the Author
Violet Hamers knew from an early age that writing was something she always wanted to do. Growing up, her time was divided between writing stories and taking part in theatrical plays, that she used to perform exclusively for her family and friends.
As she loves reading and writing, she is rarely found without a book in her hands, or her fingers glued to a keyboard. Her love for reading led her to Jane Austen's world—the regency historical world that won her over in comparison to any other genre!
Even though being an author is not a simple task, her dream of becoming one has finally come true as she is currently writing Regency novels...romances her readers will love!
Follow Violet into a world of romance and fairytale, of passion and intrigue, and live unforgettable happy-ever-afters along with her protagonists that she guarantees you will remember forever.
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