Fiery Harlot Seduced by a Duke Page 11

  Robert pulled back his shaft before he gave her a final thrust. Mary clung onto his muscular shoulders as he thrust his wet shaft deep inside her. She cried out as pulsating pleasure sent her to new heights of ecstasy.

  They held each other tight as a wave of relaxation made them sigh with the wonder of it all.

  Robert slipped out of her and wrapped Mary in his arms again. “I’m so glad I found you beautiful lady.” He nuzzled the side of her face.

  “It’s wonderful to be called a lady,” Mary said. “But most of all it’s wonderful to love and be loved in return.”

  “So what about the future?” he remarked.

  Mary put her finger to his mouth. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”

  Robert broke into a broad grin. “Merry Christmas Lady Mary.”

  “Merry Christmas my handsome Duke.”

  “You didn’t hear what I said.” He sat up in bed and took her by the hand. “Will you marry me?”

  Mary gasped to herself. “Do you know what your saying.”

  “With all my heart. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.”

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears. After all the hard times she had been through, she never thought her life would have a happy ending. “I would love to marry you.”

  “Merry Christmas Lady Mary Penrose.”

  They fell into each other arms laughing with Joy. Robert pulled her down onto the bed to spread more festive cheer.

  They made love all night as the log crackled in the fire and the snow silently fell outside - a new love, a new dawn, true love at last!

  MERRY CHRISTMAS! I HOPE YOU FIND YOUR OWN HAPPY ENDING IN THE NEW YEAR! BEST WISHES ALEX JAMES X

  A SHORT REVIEW OR RATING?

  I hope you enjoyed reading my romance. I would really appreciate a short review or rating. Especially, if you have downloaded this for free on Kindle Unlimited.

  Thank you again for your interest. ALEX X

  READ YOUR EXTRA BONUS CHAPTERS BELOW:

  A WAYWARD DUKE’S BRIDE (Sample Chapters 1-4).

  (Steamy Regency Romance Novel).

  Chapter 1

  Burford Village, Cotswolds, England, Summer 1811.

  “I can’t believe I’m getting married to a duke!” Lydia Somerville clung onto her father’s arm, as they jostled in an open wedding carriage.

  The two white horses that pulled the yellow barouche increased their speed to a gallop, as they sped down a dusty rural lane leading to Burford village in the Cotswolds.

  “This is the happiest day of my life.” Lydia had every reason to feel pleased with herself. She was about to marry the very handsome and highly esteemed, Richard Claremont, The Duke of Chester. “I am the considerable envy of every woman in the county.”

  Her black ringlets tumbled around her heart shaped face, as she brushed a crease from her white muslim dress. She bent forward and smelt the floral scent from her wedding bouquet with immense satisfaction. “Don’t you agree Papa?”

  He failed to answer as he stared impassively at the passing countryside, with a tight grip of his decorative cane. Robert Somerville did not share the same enthusiasm for her impending nuptials and had remained quiet for most of the journey.

  He ran a weary hand across his dark hair, tinged with grey streaks. It gave the distinguished appearance of a man in control of his life.

  However, the turmoil reflected in his brown eyes, failed to shield the thought that wrestled in his mind. His grave doubts about the man she was about to marry.

  The Duke of Chester was a reckless gambler and a serial womaniser, who certainly lived up to his wayward duke reputation. His rebellious behaviour had brought shame on to his own family and the county of Gloucestershire.

  Now Lydia’s respectable family of affluent bakers' was about to be tarred by his association.

  He had already heard a gossipmonger in his shop, quietly mock Lydia’s new station in life, as a wayward duke’s bride. It was a jest he found intolerable for his beautiful, young daughter. She deserved better than that.

  “Papa?” Lydia searched his face for a glimmer of hope. But he returned the same stare of resentment, which had consumed him for most of the morning. “Can you not be happy for me?”

  “I will try my dear.” He placed a fatherly hand over her petite hands, clad in white kid gloves. “My only hope is that the union will be a happy one,” he quietly reflected. “But I cannot resolve my grievance about his character.”

  “Your grief is intolerable,” Lydia said sharply. “Why do you speak with such vexation?” She pulled her hand away from him. “This is my wedding day. Not yours!”

  “I do not mean to burden you with my grief. But I cannot lie to you.” Her father let out a resigning sigh. “I can only tell you what’s in my heart.”

  “My heart sees the duke as he really is.” She slumped back in her seat, lost in thought.

  “Pray,” he cautiously asked. “How do you see him?”

  “He is the true love of my life.” Lydia gazed out of the carriage with a faint smile, as she recalled the Duke of Canterbury’s summer ball in the Cotswolds last summer.

  The moment Chester stepped into the ballroom; Lydia was captivated by his tall, muscular physique. Her heart raced at the sight of his jade green eyes, set against a golden tan.

  A deep desire stirred in her loins, as she watched his dark curls tumble seductively across his sensuous, moist lips. She imagined the same lips caressing her whole body with hot, passionate kisses.

  Lydia was determined to win his affections. But would he still remember her?

  The last time she saw him was six years ago, at a fox hunting party at his father’s estate, Cambridge Hall in Oxfordshire.

  Since then she had grown into an attractive young woman, who was hoping to secure the betrothal of a wealthy young man. Would it be Chester?

  “Lydia?” Her father’s voice jolted her back to reality. “I cannot deny the doubts in my mind any longer.” The tip of his fingers wrestled on the top of his cane. “This wedding is a big mistake.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Lydia was alarmed by the serious expression on his face. “I know you don’t like him,” she snapped. “But I wager that he is a changed man since he met me.”

  “I can only hope that this changed man,” Robert rasped in sarcastic tones. “Will eventually grow on me,” he pondered. “During the life time you are entangled to him.”

  Lydia refused to be drawn into a fight. “I will not tolerate such bitterness on my wedding day.” She was a grown woman of twenty past one and was capable of making her own decisions. “This is my wedding day. I'm in love with Chester. And no one is going to spoil it.” She looked away in a subdued mood.

  Robert had a very good reason to be concerned about the duke’s reputation. His own grandfather, the disgraced Earl of Wessex, had been a reckless gambler all his life, who had gambled away the family’s fortunes.

  His grandmother had endured heartache and poverty for the rest of her life. Then she spent her final years in the workhouse. He feared that Lydia might suffer the same fate.

  The only hope on the horizon was his close friendship with Chester’s late father, Charles Claremont. They had met at various hunting parties over the years and had a mutual passion for shooting and fox hunting. This developed into a life-long friendship, until his sudden death three years ago.

  If it wasn’t for these connections, Robert pondered. Lydia would never have met Chester and developed a childhood crush on the despicable duke. The man who was about to marry his only child for life.

  “Papa? I will not tolerate your silence any longer,” Lydia commanded. “I beg you not to cast any more judgements and be pleased for both of us.”

  Robert gave a quiet nod. He was too stricken in years to fight anymore. He clung onto the hope that Chester might be a different man, once he was married. “I give you both my blessing and pray that the union is a prosperous one.”

  Lydia returned a s
weet smile that melted his heart. The kind of smile she gave him as a young child. He could not stay angry any longer. Lydia was right; it was her wedding day, one that she would remember for the rest of her life.

  “I cannot deny your happiness after a smile like that.” Robert stroked her sweet face with his finger. “I can see from your bright eyes and rosy cheeks, how happy and in love you are.”

  "Thank you Papa.” Lydia was overcome with relief. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She kissed his hand. “I am very happy and in love.” Her girlish laughter filled the racing carriage, as it got closer to the church.

  “You’ve married well for a Baker’s daughter.” Robert nudged her arm in a jovial manner. “My affluent connections have certainly elevated your position.”

  “Do not jest Papa,” Lydia replied. “Being a duchess would do me no harm. But I consider that my fortune is well placed in marrying for love. Not money.”

  She playfully tapped him on the nose. “And besides Chester is lucky to marry into our family, for you are a very prosperous baker,” she declared. “With three baker shops’ in the county.”

  “We have a lot to be thankful for,” Robert replied, but his face was tinged with sadness. “Ellen would have been so proud of you today.” He paused with a tear in his eye. “The day I married your mother was the happiest day of my life.”

  “Don’t cry Papa. I know it hasn’t been easy since she died.” Lydia tenderly touched his face with a silk handkerchief. “We must remember Mama with a smile today, not tears.” He wiped his eyes, a little embarrassed.

  “I know you still miss Mama.” Lydia gently held his hand. “But I'm only a few miles down the lane at Chester’s estate.”

  “Don’t fret about me.” Robert drew back a curl from her face. “I just wish that Ellen could have been here.” Lydia had the same blue eyes as Ellen, full of hope and promise for the future.

  “Your mother didn’t like Chester at first, but a few days before she died, she confessed that he was the one for you.”

  “I didn’t know that.” She paused for thought. “Mama always said our love was like a fairy tale.” Lydia felt a warm glow in her heart. “Since I was a little girl I had a crush on the duke.” She placed a gloved finger on her chin. “Then he fell in love with me at the Duke of Canterbury’s summer ball.” Well, not right away, she mused.

  Lydia looked out of the carriage lost in thought. How her heart ached when the duke failed to notice her, out of all the other beautiful belles at the ball. But she felt compelled to keep looking his way - for every romance begins with a look of interest.

  Chapter 2

  The more ardently Lydia stared at the Duke of Chester, the less he seemed to notice her, as he proudly surveyed the packed ballroom looking for a friend.

  She was not alone in her interest. His dark tan and muscular appearance had already made an impression upon the rest of the young women at the ball.

  It conveyed the hallmarks of a military man, who had just returned from fighting Napoleon in the peninsular wars raging across Europe.

  He was prime husband material. A wealthy hero with a title. One that was, hopefully, looking for a wife.

  However, Chester was not one of them. He showed no interest in the impressionable young women vying for his affections. The duke was not here to engage in polite conversation, but to collect a few guineas, after winning a wager at White’s club in London.

  War had changed Chester. He had left for the continent as a polite, young man. But had returned as a selfish one, with his own interests at heart. He fought hard and drank hard. The only women he would tolerate were harlots or mistresses.

  Before the duke appeared at the ballroom, Lydia couldn’t wait to go home. At first, she was enchanted by the sight of glamorous women and gentlemen, dancing to the lyrical tones of a quartet, beneath glistening chandeliers. However, the novelty soon wore off.

  She had spent the night dancing with various male acquaintances, who had not mastered the right dance moves, to avoid trotting on her delicate toes.

  No matter how much she complained to her mother to leave, she was equally determined to stay.

  The Duke of Canterbury’s ball was the final dance of the summer. Lydia’s father had already taken refuge in the library, with the rest of the men, to smoke a cheroot and drink vast quantities of rum.

  The library was an oasis of calm for the men, away from battle-axe wives, desperate to get their charges betrothed before the end of the summer. It was a quiet lull before the domestic confinement of another bleak winter of female angst and drama.

  Chester had also retired to the library, to collect the money for his wager. “That’s the last time I see him tonight,” Lydia remarked with a sinking heart. “Debating about war and politics is obviously more interesting than spending time with the ladies.”

  ***

  Lydia helped herself to a scrumptious selection of food, laid out on decorative platters on a large wooden oak sideboard. She browsed a range of beef, veal, lamb and venison dishes, including chicken, pigeon and turkey dishes.

  Then helped herself to a range of cod, pike, eels and shell-fish. She finished her selection with a small quantity of peaches, strawberries and mulberries to tantalise her taste buds. A range of sherry, madeira wine and sweet liqueurs complimented the food on offer.

  Lydia found the punch bowl tempting. But had been warned by her mother, that the heady brew of wine, beer and cider was too delicate for genteel women.

  She joined her mother, at a small table in the corner of the room. Ellen had spent most of the evening gossiping with the other chaperones, as they kept a discreet eye on their charges on the dance floor.

  As the ball came to a close, some of the young women had a last dance on the dance floor with some gentlemen; while their chaperones summoned servants for coats and carriages for their trip back home.

  "Mama?” Lydia scooped a mouthful of food into her mouth and drank a small orgeat, a sweet syrup drink with almonds. “I finally get you to myself.”

  “Don’t eat with your mouthful,” Ellen scolded. “It’s very rude to hear chomping noises from a lady.”

  “But I'm hungry,” Lydia said, as she tried to eat her fare more quietly.

  “You should have consumed your refreshments earlier,” Ellen said, coyly looking about the room.

  “I couldn’t,” Lydia retorted. “I was too excited to eat.”

  Ellen shook her head. “What will become of my beautiful daughter?” She waved her fashionable ‘vernis martin” fan to cool her exertions.

  “Don’t be overset Mama.” Lydia quickly changed the subject. “Tell me the latest gossip you’ve heard.”

  Her eyes suddenly lit up. “You won’t believe the latest scandal about the Elliott twins.”

  Not the boring Elliott sisters’ again, Lydia mused, as she ate a concoction of fruits. “I’ve got better news.” Ellen ignored her as she launched into another tale of debauchery.

  “Listen to me.” Lydia pushed her plate to one side. “An old acquaintance of the family has joined the ball tonight.” She observed her curious expression with mild amusement. “Can you guess who?”

  “Pray child who?” She impatiently shut her fan. “Stop your jest this moment.”

  “The Duke of Chester would you believe,” Lydia said wide eyed.

  “Stay away from him!” Ellen’s eyes blazed with fury. “He’s bad blood.”

  “But Mama.” She was taken aback by her hostility. “We have known his family for years.”

  “The late Duke of Chester was very respectable,” Ellen said. “And so is the Dowager Duchess of Chester. But their son is not!” She resumed her favourite capillaire drink, then banged her glass on the table. “He has brought a lot of shame and scandal at their door.”

  “I have heard rumours about his gambling and the odd mistress,” Lydia said meekly. “But I assure you it is mere tittle tattle.”

  “And I assure you it is not!” Ellen sharply replied. “A
ny romantic notion you may have about the Duke of Chester is forbidden.” She fixed her with a steely stare. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes Mama.” Lydia looked back to the dance floor feeling demoralised.

  Chapter 3

  The clatter of horse hooves brought Lydia back to the wedding carriage. “I assumed that my fate was sealed that evening,” she sighed. “A final dance with the bungling Lord Edward. Then a carriage ride home listening to Mama’s incessant chatter, as I dreamt of another way to meet Chester.”

  “I still miss her,” Robert said with a wry smile. “And her annoying chatter.”

  “We all do Papa. But we have to move on in life,” Lydia said gently.

  That was the hardest part for Robert, moving on without Ellen. Now he was losing his daughter to another man. He would miss working with Lydia at the bakery. He had taught her everything he knew about running a business.

  Lydia read his thoughts. “I know you’ll miss me at the bakery.” She held his hand tightly. “But I’ll miss seeing you every day too.”

  “I know you will.” Robert lightly squeezed her hand. “Don’t you fret about me, I’ll manage. Young Harry seems keen to learn the business.” Well, if he stopped drinking cider and chasing the girls of the village, he mused.

  “Besides.” He thought on a bright note. “I’m not losing a daughter today, I’m gaining a son.” Maybe he was beginning to warm to Chester. “True love doesn’t come along that often, but when it does.” He stretched out his arms. “You grasp it with both hands and saviour every moment of it.”

  “Papa.” Lydia laid her head on his shoulder. “You say the sweetest things.” If Mama was here today, she pondered. I wouldn’t be getting married to Chester today.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the Duke of Canterbury’s ball. Despite her mother’s opposition, she was determined to get an introduction to the Duke of Chester.