9781618859594HerDeviantLordPimentel (10 page)

Good grief! Did Bastian already commence making plans for our
wedding without so much as consulting me?
The
thought made her angry, and she felt betrayed.
Why did he not ask my opinion first? Why the hurry?
“While I do
appreciate the gesture, my lady…”

“Pshaw! How many
times must I tell you to just call me ‘Isabel?’ I am glad that you appreciate
the gesture, but we are wasting time now. Gertrude has closed the shop
specifically for us, as I have asked for absolute discretion. Now run along,
find the child’s maid, and let us begin our day. We still have so much to do,
including meal planning.” Isabel winked and rose from her seat.

Cordelia lifted
the babe in her lap, propping him against her shoulder and walking upstairs.
Finding the maid, she passed Matthew over. “I hope not to be gone for too, too
long, but in the event his lordship returns before I, please let him know that
I am with the Marchioness of Stoughton, the Countess of Avonlea, and Miss
Turner.”

“Certainly ma’am.”

She peered into a
looking glass, pinched her cheeks, and fixed some loose strands of hair. She
had not been dress shopping for what seemed like an eternity.
Lord, do I ever look terrible.

She could already
imagine what the gossip columns would write up regarding her pending nuptials
to Bastian. His name would be dragged through the mud yet again, only this
time, they would comment on their lack of regard by marrying so soon. Though
that would only be the tip of the iceberg. The question that remained—would
they rehash Richards past crimes, or would they reopen his case and try to find
a way to incriminate her in some way?

All were dreadful
ideas, and she desperately hoped they were nothing but fodder.

“Come on,
Cordelia! We are already late…”

Cordelia raced
down the stairs, meeting the ladies at the door. “My apologies, I had to leave
some instructions with Beatrice.” Before she could say anything to the butler,
Isabel pulled her along.
Why do I get the
impression that today is going to be a long one?

She climbed into
the carriage last and sat eagerly with anticipation. What color had the ladies
decided upon for a gown? Considering she was a widow, and was not waiting the
proper time for mourning, surely the girls would not make her wear something as
silly as white, or pink, or blue.
Imagine
the horror of it all. There would be painted caricatures in the gossip column,
along with the ill-timed news.

Chapter Nine

 
“Your grace—
err
…I mean my lady, that is, I know not why you would worry over
the color. I will have you know that all my fashions are the latest from
France, and widows marry in every color. Though I really do think the maroon
gown with the gold trim is a most excellent choice. What do you think?”

The dress fit her
newfound curves, and strangely enough, the only thought occupying her mind was
how creatively Bastian would get it off.
Hmm…
She could see him now. His hands gliding up her legs. Seeking her wet heat,
teasing her until she begged for mercy. He would then tie her to the bed post,
with her back turned him.

Then, he would
unlace her gown slowly, sliding it inch by inch off her shoulders. Nipping his
way done, until his lips reached her bottom. The man had a penchant for
spanking. The question was would he spank her with his hands, paddle, or riding
crop. Once he tortured her enough, he would lean her over and take her from
behind. Thrusting hard and fast then slow and steady.

Good grief
. All these wicked thoughts in
the middle of the dressmakers shop was making her damp and dizzy with desire.
Her need for Bastian coursed through her veins.

“Ma’am…your grace?
What do you think of the gown?”

Her companions
laughed, probably knowing where her thoughts wandered off.

“The dress is
perfect, Mrs. Hedley.”

“Right then,
perhaps we shall move onto something special for the evening. I have the
perfect garment. If you will bear with me a moment. I have it kept in the
storage room,” the tall, middle-aged woman said while cheerfully bouncing away.

A moment later,
she reappeared, and the girls gasped in shock.

“Oh, my! That is
quite…hmm…shall we say…
risqué
,” Emily
whispered grinning the whole while.

“Jesu. Risqué
indeed. Mrs. Hedley, where on earth…how on earth did you fashion such a sinful
piece?”

“That, my dear, is
a secret. And allow me to assure you, while everyone knows you and his lordship
are not new at this arrangement, I am confident he shall never want to leave
your side that night. But I suspect it might end up torn within minutes.”

There is a thought
. Bastian would indeed
tear it off.
 
’
Twould
be a waste of something so beautiful and delicate. But Lord, to see his face
when he saw the black silk and lace chemise. Her bust would surely be on
display for him to torment. Nevertheless, she would enjoy every dashing moment.
“I suppose I shall take that as well. I cannot imagine the garment will remain
on for very long, but it is a stunning piece, Mrs. Hedley.”

The girls now
moved about the store, picking up fabrics and holding them against their
feminine curves. Clearly, they needed time to shop around.

“Mrs. Hedley, I
will indeed take all the recommended items. If you could let the girls know
that I will be just outside? I have need for air.”

“Certainly, my
lady.”

Cordelia opened
the door, and once she felt the breeze hit her face, she exhaled. The trip had
been lovely, yet she could not help but feel trapped. All the attention, the
trying on of countless gowns, was overwhelming.

In her time away
from London, she had learned to do without and appreciate the humility of being
reduced to a peasant. Her life had been simple, almost easier, and she had a
finer admiration for those who worked back-breaking chores. Peddling their
wares for survival. The lack of frivolity in such an environment made her
humble.

As she was deep in
thought, dozens of people walked past her, ignoring who she was. Others
whispered, but she cared not what they dared to talk about.
Yes, I am the widow of the former duke—the
one who had an affair, got pregnant, and then was exiled into the country to
have the child. Only to have a terrible accident, and be assumed dead.

How could no one have thought to look further?
They had simply given up. Even Bastian had never explained why he
did not come in search for her. Her anger began to return when high-pitched
screeching captured her attention.

She turned to see
a familiar woman running toward her.
Mary
Elizabeth
. The scorned trollop was armed with potatoes and other wares from
the market. She began hurling obscenities and objects at Cordelia. A potato hit
her in the head.

Horrified and
stunned, Cordelia ran off, not paying attention to the direction she was
headed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She needed help, yet no one stopped the
angry woman, who now fully chased her into a steady stream of carriages.

Tripping in a
puddle, Cordelia landed face first into the street. Hoping to die an
instantaneous death.
This could not be
more embarrassing
. Shaking violently, she attempted to get up, but every
time she did, water from another puddle sprayed into her face.

Where is Bastian? I need my son.

A carriage finally
stopped and thick, but gentle hands helped her up. Cordelia sobbed into the
strangers arms. Slightly pushing her back, he tipped her chin up. Relief washed
over to recognize the friendly face of the Marquess of Stoughton.

“There, there, my
dear. Let me help you in, and we shall retrieve the ladies. Once we return to
Stoughton Hall, I shall have my servants collect your son. I think you shall be
safer with us, until Bastian finds a way to deal with that woman.”

“Thank you, my
lord. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Do not give it
another thought. We are all here to help you.”

Help, a novel concept
.

* * * *

“I hardly have
words to express my anger at this moment, Nathaniel.”

“I can understand,
however, do not digress here. That woman needs to be dealt with. She is not
right in the head. She needs to be imprisoned, and that is final. I cannot
express enough that your soon to be wife and son will not be safe if Mary
Elizabeth continues to walk the streets. I implore you…”

Ridden with guilt,
Bastian could not help but wonder what would have happened if Nathaniel had not
found her in time. To what extent would Mary Elizabeth go, to prove that they
should be together? The woman was clearly mad, and if he could get her into an
asylum he would.
But how? One cannot drop
a person off without reasoning, and at this point, she is a jilted lover,
nothing more.

He paced the floor
with his glass of port in hand. The fire brightly burning in the library
reduced him into a puddle of sweat. All this anger beginning to emerge did
nothing for his nerves. He wanted a fight, but he could not hit a woman.

“Calm yourself,
Bastian. By now, Cordelia will have had enough time to relax. I would prefer
that you kept her and the baby here until you two are married. Perhaps by then,
this situation will have been rectified.”

The thought had
merit, though he would much rather protect her himself. But removing Cordelia
from the townhouse might be the solution, until he could find the opportunity
to catch Mary Elizabeth in the act of something socially unacceptable. “An
excellent thought, Nathaniel. Do you suppose that we could hold the private
ceremony here instead of the parsonage? That is to say, if it would not be a
terrible imposition.”

“I was going to
suggest the same thing. And to clarify, it would be no imposition at all. By
keeping the ceremony private, and under the roof of a protected home, there is
less risk of your vows being interrupted unnecessarily.”

Perfect
. Now all he had to do was relay
the change of plans to Cordelia, and hopefully she would not be to cross with
him.
’Twas
bad enough that she had expressed her
displeasure in his commencing the plans of the wedding without consulting her
first. He did not wish to add further fuel to the fire.

Bastian downed the
contents of his drink. “I do not want to be rude, Nathaniel, but I would like to
spend some time with Cordelia.”

The
marquess
lifted his glass. “Go on. Enjoy the rest of the
evening. We have all had a trying day, and I could use the company of my lovely
wife too.”

He nodded, and
Bastian turned to leave the library. Soon, they would move out of the townhouse
and take up residence in her family’s estate. Though, he had not had a chance
to examine its condition yet. Her ancestral home should have been passed along
to her elder brother, but her parents had wanted to lure the duke in with a
proposition that would sweeten the deal.

In the last few
days, he had come to discover that the lands in which the estate is located is
rich by agricultural means. He supposed that once they were established, and he
had the opportunity to meet with the tenants, they could work together in
turning a healthy profit. Which would, in turn, provide for future generations
of their growing family.

Nevertheless, the
first order of business was to get married and get settled. Once things finally
smoothed over, he would attempt to convince her to have another son.
Ah, to have a brood full of sons. Brawling,
handsome, mischievous little buggers
. Cordelia might oppose having an
entire brood of little boys, but he would leave their fate in the hands of
destiny.

Happening upon
Cordelia in their quarters, he swept into the room with a charming grace. Her
brows perked up, speculating his every move. When he reached the edge of the
bed, Bastian slowly removed his cravat, gave it twirl, and tucked it into his
pocket. “So my love, where is our darling son at this moment?”

Her lashes
fluttered, and she licked her lips. “In the nursery with his maid,” she purred
seductively.

“Hmm…all this time
alone. I think we need to find something productive and conducive to our
health, no?”

She nodded and
chewed on her bottom lip. “What did you have in mind, my lord?”

What did he have
in mind? They could not behave as if there was no one else in the manor, so he
had to get creative. And he did not have the implement he preferred to use on
hand. “Well, for one thing, you are wearing an impossible amount of layers.
Begin divesting yourself. I shall sit here and watch.”

There were times
in their previous occasions together when she would undress, teasing him until
his cock stirred uncomfortably in his breeches. Tonight though, he wanted to
savor every moment and take away the memory her horrid experience from earlier.

Bastian worshipped
this woman in every regard, and he would remind her as so very shortly. When
his teeth would graze over nipples, his tongue sliding over the contours of her
belly and his fingers sliding in and out of her. She would not be denied
tonight. Her mouth would swallow his cock, and her arse would revel in its
entirety when he penetrated her there. The pain would eventually give her
pleasure. How he missed her perfectly round bottom.

He pulled out his
cock and stroked it as she teased him. Her creamy white shoulders and her full
breasts made him ache to bite them and mark her as his. When her garments fell
to the floor, and she stood before him nude, he crooked his finger for her to
come forth.

She sank to her
knees between his legs and took his length into her mouth.

“That’s a good
girl. How I have missed those perfect lips of yours, my dear. Suck me good and
hard, love. I want you to show me how much of a good lass you are.”

And a good girl
she was. He loved her lips around him, and to think, they would have many
nights like this ahead of them. He would do well to remind himself throughout
the night, and for the rest of their days, to show her how much he loved her.