The Duke and The Governess (23 page)

‘That would be fine, but you’ll have to tell me what to do.’

‘Sit on me.’ He murmured and she straddled his stomach. ‘Hotch down a little more and take my cock in your hand.’ He watched as she shuffled down his body looking behind her. ‘There, that’s fine. Now take it in your hand and guide it to where you want it.’

Jessica frowned at him, but lifted his rigid member off his stomach. ‘Like this?’ she asked and he enclosed her hand in his. He felt the tip of his penis slide over her slick core and watched knowledge appear on her face. ‘I understand.’ She said and he removed his hand. Slowly she positioned him at her entrance and then gently she pushed down on him. ‘Oh!’ was all she said as her head fell back and she put her hands out as if she was falling. John grasped her hands and entwined their fingers, even as he groaned deep in his chest. She was slick with his semen and he felt her vagina throbbing at the invasion, but she just sat quite still. ‘There’s more.’ She said and looked down at him. ‘Much more.’

‘Can you guess what to do next?’ he asked and gently released her fingers, placing her hands on his chest.

‘I suppose I must do this.’ She said as she slowly lifted on his shaft and settled back down. John held his hands up and her nipples drifted over his palms.

‘Yes.’ He breathed, ‘that’s perfect.’

Jessica concentrated on the sensations as she lifted and sank on his penis. It felt entirely different from their last coupling, but she was too inexperienced to know either how or why. She kept the pace slow and erotic, until John stroked his thumb over her clitoris and she jerked and moaned.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered, ‘but I can’t wait.’ John said as he grabbed her shoulders, rolled her on her back and took her vigorously, but making sure her orgasm was just as good as the first one. ‘I love you.’ muttered as his penis still jerked and pulsed inside her. ‘Oh! God! I love you.’ he sighed as his muscles relaxed again. ‘I’m sorry; I was a little rushed there.’

‘Why do you love me?’ she asked and looked into his blue eyes.

‘I have absolutely no idea. I just know that I do, like Elizabeth.’ He gently kissed her and she wrapped her legs about him. ‘Do you object?’

‘No.’ She sighed. ‘I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.’

‘Then we must be angels.’ He murmured against her hair, before he rolled on his back, taking her with him.

‘Why didn’t you let me continue to suck you?’ she frowned, ‘and what did you mean come in my mouth?’ She levered herself up on her forearms and rested her chin on them.
She felt him slip out of her body as his penis subsided.

‘One day I’ll show you, but did you feel a rush of fluid as I orgasmed?’ he asked and looked again into that innocent face. He felt his heart squeeze at her expression as she nodded. ‘That was the fluid that I produce to make a child. I have to get that fluid into your womb where it will make a baby.’ It felt a little like explaining something to Elizabeth and he squirmed with embarrassment at the same time as his manhood shrank from her body.
Still it’s good practice for when she asks those embarrassing questions.
He thought.

‘So I could have a baby?’ she asked, surprise written all over her face.

‘Yes, I’m afraid you could.’

‘What? Just from this one night?’

He nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, just from this one night. In fact it can only take once as with Victoria.’

‘How will I know?’ she asked softly and he stroked his fingers over the frown on her forehead. She slid her arms off his chest and snuggled her cheek against his breast.

‘First you’ll miss your menses, then you will feel sickly in the morning and as the pregnancy advances, you’ll feel changes in your body, like tenderness in your breasts and maybe even feeling irritable or tired. It’s possible you could be very ill or totally the opposite and be blooming with good health.’ He stroked his hand over her back. ‘Either way, it starts with missed menses.’ He looked down at her. ‘When are they due to start?’

‘The end of next week.’ She whispered and he could hear the fear in her voice.

‘You must tell me straight away.’ He squeezed her. ‘If you haven’t started by the following weekend, you must tell me.’

‘I understand.’

They were quiet for a while, each alone with their thoughts. John’s were looking at nurseries, a sibling for Elizabeth to play with, maybe even a  Ducal Heir, but mostly he thought about when he would marry Jessica.

Jessica was thinking she’d probably made a very big mistake giving herself to a Duke. If she ended up with child, would he abandon her or would he support her? She felt a faint flicker of dread in her stomach and tried to extinguish it in his arms by hitching herself up and covering his face in kisses.

John rolled her over and wooed her with his body until she was writhing and crying out for him to bring her to fulfilment and as her body convulsed with passion and she dug her nails into his back, John’s soul sang with joy.

Afterwards, John snuggled up behind her. And with his arm over her protectively, he sighed deeply and nodded off into a deep, contented sleep. But Jessica did not sleep. She stared into the embers of the fire and wondered what would happen now. She waited patiently until John turned over and then she slipped out of bed, dressed quickly and crept carefully to her own room.

She bathed her body in cold water, finding the coolness soothing and then she donned her night gown. She carefully brushed her hair and plaited it, before she climbed into bed and spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.

Jessica asked for water to bathe, when she got out of bed and afterwards she looked at her haggard face in the mirror and wo
ndered if any one would notice.

Chapter
Twelve
 
 

Elizabeth smiled at Masters. ‘Is my Daddy awake yet, Masters?’ she asked coyly.

‘I’m afraid not, Your Ladyship.’ He replied quietly.

She smiled beatifically. ‘Would you like me to wake him for you?’

‘That would be most kind, Your Ladyship.’ Masters said with a conspiratorial smile. He quietly opened the door for her and Elizabeth crept across the room and looked at her father in bed. She was surprised to see him without a nightshirt, his naked back revealed as the sheet was gathered about his waist. She smiled and climbed on to the bed and stroked her hand down his back.

‘Jess...?’ he murmured as he rolled on his back and Elizabeth climbed on his chest and sat looking down at him.

‘No, Daddy. My name is Elizabeth.’ She said softly. ‘Did you spend all night with the Governess?’ she asked cheekily
. ‘I like it when I share your
bed too!’

John’s eyes flew open and he jerked his head sideways to look at the empty space beside him, before he sighed in relief. ‘What are you talking about, pigeon?’ he asked as Masters opened the curtains
, letting the daylight into the room
.

Elizabeth stroked her hand over his chest. ‘You called me Jess.’ She said, ‘and you don’t have a nightshirt on. So you must have had company.’

‘How...what would you know about that?’ he demanded with a frown.

‘I hear the servants talking about your...amorous encounters.’ She innocently struggled over the words and it was obvious she didn’t understand what that meant.

‘That is enough of that!’ he said harshly and looked at Masters with a frown. Masters shook his head. ‘My robe!’ he demanded ‘and some water for a bath!’ He sat up with Elizabeth between his hands. ‘And you! You can go back to the nursery and I’ll see you before breakfast.’

Elizabeth was aware he was angry. She had made him angry and it made her sad. ‘Will you see Miss Jessica before breakfast?’ she asked with a trembling lip.

‘That is none of your business and if I hear you talking about your silly assumption, I shall be very cross!’ He put her down on the floor. ‘Now return to the nursery so that I can get dressed!’

Elizabeth nodded sadly and started for the door, but John knew his daughter very well and watched her dash away a tear as she started to run through the doorway.

He looked at Masters. ‘And just who talks about my amorous encounters?’ he demanded.

‘I would expect that to be Mrs. Beaton and cook!’ Masters admitted. ‘Cook’s a gossipy old woman and begging Your Graces pardon, you’ve never attempted to be discreet in your own house.’

‘Well, I’m not in my own house, am I and I could do without Elizabeth causing trouble by gossiping about the Governess.’ John muttered, his fists clutching the sheet.

‘Was it all you expected it to be?’ Masters asked impertinently and John tried to look offended, but couldn’t quite bring it off. Masters smiled gently, ‘you can’t pull the wool over these eyes. I’ve seen too much and I know you’re taken with the little governess. I saw you arrive with her last night.’

John’s expression turned to one of dazed astonishment and Masters watched his dazed expression turn to wonder as he folded his hands behind his head, lay back against the pillows and sighed deeply.

‘More than I expected to tell you the truth.’ He said and swivelled his eyes to Masters. ‘Should I make her my duchess?’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Masters smiled gently. ‘You can do whatever you wish.’ He laid out the Duke’s attire for the morning as the footmen marched in with the bath and hot water.

But, of course, fate would intervene. Again.

John luxuriated in his bath, carefully washing every inch of his skin. He talked to his manhood of their night of passion, much to Masters’ amusement. But it was obvious the Duke was enamoured of the Governess and over the week Masters had convinced himself she would be a fine Duchess. The chatter below stairs praised her for her fortitude at Dean and her charming and pleasant way since arriving at Malvern.

He’d sent the footmen for fresh water, to rinse the Duke, but one came up with an urgent message.

John Farrington was thinking about where he could make love to Jessica next, considering a tree beside the lake, when Masters came in with the message.

‘This is urgent, Your Grace. The messenger is waiting for a reply.’ Masters said and displayed the missive on a silver platter.

‘Pass me a towel.’ The duke said as he sat up. Masters handed him a bath sheet and the Duke dried his hands. He took the proffered missive and looked at the seal. ‘The Lord Chancellor.’ He muttered. ‘What does he want?’ he asked rhetorically and broke the seal, before unfolding the stiff velum.

To His Grace, the Duke of Warwick,

I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Bow Street Runners discovered your brother-in-law Edward Asquith in a rather seedy part of the City last evening. He had been stabbed numerous times and left for dead. I have had him admitted to your house, where he is under the care of a physician. I would suggest you return forthwith to deal with this crisis.

Yours sorrowfully,

Earl of Eldon

The Lord Chancellor.

‘Bastard!’ John spat as he crumpled the letter in his fist. ‘Edward has been stabbed, but not killed. He’s at the London residence, courtesy of the Lord Chancellor!’ John jerked himself out of the bath and grabbed the towel Masters offered. ‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’ John almost shouted as he rubbed himself vigorously. ‘I’ll pen a reply while you go and tell Mrs. Beaton we have to go.’

‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Masters said and hurried out of the room as John wrapped the towel around his middle. He hurried to the desk and dashed off a reply to Lord Eldon.

For a change, John shaved himself, managing to cut his chin whilst doing it. ‘Christ! Masters, how do you do it?’ he asked his valet in the mirror.

‘Years of practice, Your Grace.’ Masters replied with his tongue firmly in his cheek and a smirk in his eyes.

‘Here. Finish me off!’ John said and dropped into the chair offering up his throat.

Masters looked at the Duke’s face and shook his head. ‘You’ve missed half of it.’ He grumbled as he picked up the soap mug and brush again. John was just going to reply when Masters slopped fresh froth over his face and effectively gagged the Duke. He gave the razor a quick strop and proceeded to give the Duke a close shave. John kept his counsel, until Masters was finished.

‘Do you know? I put an awful lot of faith in you every morning.’ John said with a frown.

Masters looked up sharply from drying the razor. ‘How, Your Grace?’

‘Because, if you didn’t like me or I upset you enough, you could slice my throat and there wouldn’t be anything I could do except bleed to death!’

‘Very true, Your Grace. But you wouldn’t be stupid enough to insult the man that holds a razor.’

‘Yes.’ He said slowly, giving Masters a liverish look. He reached for his britches and thrust his leg into them. It didn’t take him long to get dressed and Masters was fiddling with his cravat when Elizabeth arrived like a tornado.

‘Is it true, Daddy? Are we going home?’ she demanded loudly

‘I’m afraid it is pigeon.’ He replied and smiled down at her. ‘Are you packed?’

‘We are!’ she said and looked at Mrs. Beaton, standing in the doorway.