Men are not as honorable as they would have us believe, and I had had this offer thrust before me many times before, with the full knowledge that it would be my downfall if the man was a rascal. For that reason, and the reason that I had never felt an overwhelming inclination to succumb, I had never kissed a man before.
“You wish…”
“To kiss you,” the Duke said firmly. “Will you allow me?”
I stood on the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping at me. One way there was ecstasy, the other was oblivion. What if I succumbed to this man and he was rascal? What if I was one duped woman in a line of duped women? I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of duplicity, but all attempts to read him were lost in the solid ice-blue of the deep pools of his irises.
Then I tossed intellect aside, a rare thing for me, and consulted my heart. The consultation did not last long. I wanted this, I realized.
“I must not last long,” I said hurriedly, “lest somebody come in and find us.”
“Yes, my lady,” the Duke – Francis – said.
He touched my cheek with his hand, and then leaned forward and placed his lips upon mine. I had been afraid that I would not know what to do, but it felt as natural as walking. Our lips brushed as though they were old companions, and his tongue snaked into my mouth. This was most scandalous, and yet I opened my mouth in return and allowed our tongues to dance.
We kissed for longer than was agreed upon, and would have kissed for longer had not there been the clapping of shoes behind us. We both turned swiftly just in time to see Charlotte enter.
“Miss, I feared something had happened to you!” the poor girl exclaimed.
“The Duke was just showing me his books, Charlotte,” I said. “You did not have to worry.”
“Yes, Miss,” Charlotte said. “Would you like to come outside now?”
The Duke stepped forward. “We shall all go outside and join in on the fun.”
The girl’s face lit up like a fire at that. Then she clapped out of the room. The Duke turned and stared into my eyes. “One more,” he said.
I nodded.
Our lips, our tongues, even our teeth: all of it mashed together in a dance of unearthly pleasure.
*****
It had been three nights from the date of the fayre. I lay awake around three in the morning thinking over the previous three days. Apart from a short stroll around the grounds on the second day, upon which event Charlotte was also present, the Duke and I had not spent any time together since the first day. This was mainly due to exterior events in London, which I will not bore the reader by delving into now. But late on the evening upon which I lay awake, waiting, the business in London had concluded and the Duke’s advisors had left the Castle.
And so our romance could resume.
For the sake of our closeness, the Duke had arranged for Charlotte to have her own room down the hallway. This was agreeable to me, because it made nights like tonight much easier. The Duke was to visit me tonight. We were to spend some time alone together. My nerves were aching with anticipation at this point, and I had already decided that if he didn’t arrive tonight I would return home. There is only so much a woman can take, exterior factors or not.
I watched the moon make its passage across my bedroom wall, the shadows of trees dancing in the pale blue hue. I had been reading the books the Duke had gifted me until early in the morning, but now I was eager to recommence my affections with the Duke. It is unwomanly to say so, but if he had walked in right then and kissed me without permission, I would not have objected.
I must make my state of mind clear, as a defense of sorts, because already the men among you are judging me, calling me unwomanly, perhaps even witchy. For the longest time Father had been trying to get me to marry, as was proper, and I do not blame him for it. If I could only attach myself to a prosperous family, I might elevate the Archers out of the rut they had been stuck in for generations. But my father was too soft-hearted to push with too much insistence, and I was allowed, for the most part, to form my own character.
I chose the character of a book-dweller, spending most of my early adulthood among books, neglecting my “social obligations”. And whilst Father did not hinder me, neither did he approve. So at the point of meeting the Duke, I was afloat in a sea of unrecognition. I desperately wanted somebody to recognize me for what I was, not for who I was supposed to be.
And then came the Duke. His words in the library, his beautiful words which I shall always remember, resounded in me, multiplying each day and increasing in force. The Duke, I was sure, recognized me. And there was something else. There was a bodily reaction, also; my body called out for him, and the taste of his lips on mine was still fresh.
I was his, mind and body, from the second we kissed in the library. I believed with my entire soul that I had found my equal in life. But if he left me now, to wait all night… If he did not come—