The Duke's Dark Secret (Historical Victorian Romance) (4 page)

“I shouldn’t worry. We’ll figure things out together.” She laughed nervously.

He put his hands to her cheeks, holding her and gazing into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this tonight, you know. Another night is fine, if you feel any pressure-”

She silenced him with a kiss, tentative at first, then urgently. Charlotte and George helped one another out of their wedding clothing until they were nearly naked. At the last moment, she felt her nerves betraying her and she almost made him turn around. Desire won out. They slowly began to remove one another’s clothing until they stood naked before each other. She found curiosity overcame her fears and he caressed her. The touch of his skin against hers drove feelings she’d never experienced with a man, and she wanted more.

Charlotte let him recline her onto the bed. As they kissed, he started to enter her, but involuntarily winced. He saw it.

“Are you okay? Is all well?”

“I think… I think I need some time still.”

“I see. Of course! Whatever you need.” He sounded disappointed as he withdrew.

“Well- don’t stop entirely. I mean I need a little more time before you… do that precisely.”

“How so?”

She thought about it and smiled in response. Deciding to lead by example, she reached down and took him in her hand, pulling and stroking his shaft. He answered by kissing her hard on the mouth and slowly running his hand along her outer lips. As they touched, he felt her growing wetter.

“Should we try again?” He whispered. “When you’re certain.”

“One more thing.” Charlotte guided his head to her breasts, where he began to kiss and gently suck her nipples. She found herself feeling equally more relaxed and uninhibited as their love-making progressed.

When she felt ready, she put his rod where she wanted him and they met again. Though they had to move slowly, they steadily began to rise in excitement and pleasure. As she felt her enjoyment peak, she looked into his eyes. For a moment they connected, then both gave in to release.

Her nervousness now a forgotten thing of the past, they lay naked beneath the covers afterwards, holding each other. She wrapped herself around his side, stroking his chest, as he kept an arm around her shoulder and caressed her cheek.

“I did not think to find love. Not real, true love such as this.” Charlotte mused. “I was certain I would be a lonely spinster.”

“You? I could never imagine so horrible a fate.” He chuckled.

“Being alone is not so bad. I think it is character-building.” She said. “One has a chance to know oneself and what one wants. I don’t know… I feared I might eventually have to marry solely for security and companionship.”

“I hope to give you both.” He noted.

“That is welcome, but love is what I most want. You will always love, won’t you?”

“That is a promise I shall keep.” He assured her with a kiss.

*****

“Adam, George, and Clara!” The young woman on the lawn was calling out to three little children, all of whom were running around with complete abandon. “Lunch will be served, and you really must clean up now.”

“Just a little longer, please?” The girl pleaded. The woman shook her head firmly, and he and the others grudgingly gave up their play.

“Clara you are the eldest. Set a good example for the twins.” The woman suggested with a smile. She kissed each child as they climbed up the stairs to the wide porch. “We are guests of your grandparents and I expect good behavior.”

“Yes, mother.” Each chimed.

As the children went into the grand old country estate house, a young man with a well-trimmed blond mustache and whiskers stepped out onto the porch. “Matilda, there you are. The servants told me you’d be here.”

“Bringing in the children, Bernard. How’s mother?”

He pet her hand. “The physicians in this part of the country are quite excellent. You needn’t have married a doctor yourself to be assured of your mother’s health.”

“I know. Mother has always had a warm place in her heart for medical men, though, and I suppose it has rubbed off upon me. You do think she’s well?”

He nodded, with as much reassurance as his training could muster. “Come see for yourself! For a woman of 65 to be in such robust health is a wonder indeed. And your father… that I should live to be 70 and be so hale!”

“We are a long-lived family.” She admitted. “Let’s go in.”

They found Charlotte and George Mandeville, the Duke and Duchess of Dorset, in the library. The older couple set down their books as their daughter and son-in-lawn entered, George getting on his feet to hug Matilda. “How wonderful to see you!” He proclaimed. “Your mother was just consulting with this London physician of yours and as you can see, she is perfectly fine.”

Charlotte was reclining on a comfortable couch, but sat up to demonstrate she was no invalid. Dressed elegantly and perhaps a touch behind the emerging fashions of the 1860’s, she retained her beauty with what, to her daughter, appeared to be an effortlessness she must hav been born with.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Charlotte repeated, despite a small cough. “My heart was never better. Unlike poor Frances’.” She gave a sad shake of her head, looking at the book she’d set down. “Poor thing. This was her final publication. I shall miss reading her works.”

“Perhaps you should take up the pen, mother?” Matilda suggested, but Charlotte waved the suggestion away.

“No, no. Better to consume than to produce. I fear I’d be a dreadful novelist.”

“But you’ve seen so much of the world!” Matilda reminded her mother, taking a seat beside her. The men claimed seats as well, listening in. “Egypt, Rome, Brazil, Zanzibar, Australia…”

“Yes, we did see much.” Charlotte admitted, recalling her lifetime of travels with George. “We never made it to China, though. I would have liked to have seen Beijing.”

“I can’t imagine the things you’ve lived through.” Matilda prodded. “How I would love to read your accounts from your imagination.”

Charlotte rubbed her chin, thinking about it. “It does seem a pity that with Frances’ passing there’s no one left to write my favorite style of novel. Perhaps it is my charge to carry on the torch. But would you mind dear?”

George shook his head. “Not at all! I think it would be splendid. And you really shouldn’t even be asking me. Do as pleases you, my dear, as always.”

She smiled, seemingly satisfied with her decision. “Than I shall. It will aggravate Catherine to no end, as she is the only family left that it might scandalize.”

Matilda chuckled over the image of her overweight Aunt Catherine huffing in indignance at learning her sister was an author. “That it may well do.” She conceded, knowing it would strengthen her mother’s resolve.

“As your doctor, I recommend it.” Bernard agreed.

“Then it’s settled.” Charlotte pronounced. “I’ll write a story set in Zanzibar, I believe. A romance, or a mystery. Or perhaps both. Such a tale could be invigorating to write.”

The matter decided, the four adults went to the dining room. George helped his wife to get there, and though she insisted she was fine, she didn’t object too greatly. It was clear the couple were still affectionate, even after 40 years of marriage.

The children were already seated at the table, and Charlotte exclaimed when she saw them. “My darlings! Look at how well behaved you all are.” The moment they spied her, they leapt from their seats and rushed to hug her, immediately giving up their attempts at politeness. No one chastised them.

When they were all seated, soup was brought out and served to all. Over the meal, Charlotte looked out at the faces of her loved ones. She could scarcely believe her good fortune. If her health was flicking- not fading, but giving the first few warning signs of advancing age- she had been blessed with nothing but happiness and contentment.

“So few others are as fortunate.” She murmured, and her husband looked up, overhearing her talking to herself.

“What was that?”

Charlotte reached across the table to hold his hand. “I was just recalling how fortunate I am to have all of you here around me. Our lives are so short and at times, painful. But if we are able to find love and good family, it does make living so much more worthwhile.”

“Amen to that, Mother.” Matilda agreed.

*****

Alone at last, Charlotte reached for her first piece of paper and set it before her. The blank white sheet stared up at her, frustrating her creativity. She’d been a life-long lover of literature, but had so rarely experienced the art from this side of the effort.

“Well,” she sighed, smiling at the idea she had in mind for her first novel. “Here we go.”

THE END

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Colorado Calling by Catherine Scott

              “Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory. Next stop, ladies and gentleman, is Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory.”

              Louisa Forest awoke, startled by the sound of the conductor’s voice as he walked through the rattling car. It had been a small miracle that she’d slept at all; the three day trip from Baltimore that had begun with so much hope had become increasingly exhausting as she found the shaking movements kept her awake through the empty plains of Iowa and Nebraska. It was all so disorienting as well. She had grown accustomed to city life, with its close quarters and settled horizon. There were always people around that she had known for her entire life. But as the train had shuttled across the country, everything familiar had fallen away beyond the Appalachians.

              She looked down at her rumpled travel clothes with some distress. The pretty blue dress had gathered a fair share of dust from the travels, despite the pleasantly ornate Pullman car. Her beau had purchased her a good ticket, and for that she was grateful. However, as the days had wound onward, the soot that blew back from the engine had seemingly gotten into everything. She wasn’t sure how she was to maintain any mystery and attractiveness in such an environment.

              Louisa pulled a hand mirror from her bag. She noticed she wasn’t the only one doing so; it seemed a few other unaccompanied women had the same destination on their ticket. She wasn’t surprised. It had been her friend Rebecca who had suggested she put a correspondence ad in the magazine, in hopes of finding a worthwhile man in the West. None of her suitors in Baltimore had been worthwhile, mostly gamblers and drinkers. Not that the same couldn’t be said in unsettled parts of the country, naturally, and Louisa had no illusions that life would be perfect or even better here.

              However, she did have hope. There were good reasons to leave Maryland, as she recalled them. Rebecca had been just about the only one still talking to her after she and her family had supported the Union. When she had been a young teen, there had been at least one night of pure terror when a small mob had demanded her father come out and face them. Windows had been smashed, the police had turned out to just in time to chase the rioters away from burning down her tenement.

              The friendly, neighborhood faces that she had known all her life, the butcher, the newspaper seller, the neighbors, had one by one gone cold as they associated the Forests with the “tyrant” Lincoln. Maryland had stayed loyal to the cause, but some parts of the state such as Baltimore were firmly set in Confederate sympathies. Only a handful of like-minded or forgiving neighbors had taken the Forest’s part when their son Donald had signed up to join the Union cause. When Donald returned in a box from Chancellorsville, her mother had died of a broken heart. The war ended, and she recalled sitting at the kitchen table with her father.