Copyright to VedaPettigrew
Rosannah took in the beautiful view outside the carriage, trying to lessen her melancholy at leaving Amblethorpe. When the brilliant sunshine and rolling hills did not achieve their purpose, she took to chastising herself.
It was not forever, they would be returning in just six short weeks. The season was almost over. The contrary side of her conscious, reminded her that six weeks was plenty of time to be upset by her mother, cut by her jealous fellow debutants, ridiculed for being a duchess who could not speak properly, and worst of all, she would in all likelihood, receive her first punishment from her husband.
She looked at him under her lashes. His gaze was focussed upon her, a frown showing his concern. How could anyone who felt as much love for her as she knew he did, perform such atrocious things? She could not imagine hurting him, not the way her mother and father hurt her. The very thought disgusted her.
And yet, he would.
She bit her lip and returned her gaze to the window. Was it better to avoid situations where he would see her inadequacies, so as to delay the inevitable? Or was it better to get it over and done with, so she at least knew what she was dealing with?
"Rosannah?" his commanding voice was gentle, "Why do you look so worried? You look as if you might be ill."
"I am just sad to be leaving," she said truthfully, but she trembled and refused to look at him.
"It is more than that, you forget I can read you like a book." He moved to her side and brushed a tendril of hair on her nape, "Will you not look at me?"
She turned, trying to hide her fear. He had told her she never needed to fear him, but maybe he didn't understand how terrifying punishments were.
However she wasn't being punished now, she thought determinedly. It wasn't fair he should be suffering her foolishness at this moment.
"Sorry Grayson," she held his hand on her knee, "I suppose I am also worried about returning to London a duchess. When I entered my season I never imagined I would capture the heart of a duke. The expectations feel more burdensome now, for I do so dread letting you down."
He chuckled, "You never could. I admit, though I was raised for it, I felt the same way when I inherited the title. It is more pressure, people watch you more closely, there is high expectation and society loves to revel in failures."
Her eyes widened as he spoke, these were not comforting words at all. He squeezed her hand, "But you will not be doing this alone. I am with you, I will help you." He lifted her hand and kissed her wrist, pulling down her glove to reveal a glimpse of bare skin to administer his affection.
She relaxed, it was true that he seemed happy with the way she conducted herself at his country estate. She had seemingly found favour in the eyes of the servants and he was pleased with her manner with them.
She could trust him to steer her right. She knew she could cling to his arm and he would protect her. Had he not promised to do so?
"I could even be so monstrous as to occasionally ban you from dancing, or refuse to allow you to leave my arm, should you require," he raised an amused eyebrow and she caught her breath. He would increase his dastardly reputation, just to give her more comfort?
She repeated the question out loud and he laughed, "Do not fret on my account. I believe I enjoy my reputation more than I should. It gives me such an enormous amount of power." He spoke smugly. "I would happily allow myself to be seen as a controlling and authoritarian horror of a husband for your sake. I believe I would even like it," he smirked.
Her mouth dropped open and he pushed it closed with one finger. "Can you not see how terribly delightful it would be to have such a secret between us? That, although they might see my pride in you, society would not know how I kneel at your feet in awe."
"It would probably suit you not to lose face by openly being in love with your wife," she teased.
He laughed easily, "I do not believe I should enjoy the ribbing from my acquaintances if it is discovered that in fact Rosie, you have me wrapped around your beautiful little finger."
He pulled off her glove and kissed the offending digit before placing his lips to her hand. "We shall play our roles however. My reputation should suffer indeed, were it known that I become a blethering fool over the wonder that is you."
"That would not do at all." Her palm tingled under his mouth. "I have to admit, I am intrigued by the idea. Although I find your reputation inaccurate and unjust, I will do my utmost to uphold your fearsome status. I too will find it quite diverting."
She pursed her lips as a worrisome thought entered her mind.
"What?" he ran his thumb over them, caressing the pout away.
"I don't want to be seen as... lesser, because society believes you think of me that way." The thought that she would suffer in such an undignified manner was unbearable.
"Rosie, I could not portray that even if I tried." He sounded indignant, "You have my respect and I will show it. You have my pride, and I will show that too. Nobody would find it possible to believe I see you as lesser. They will just see me as unreasonable, over-protective, authoritarian, demanding and perhaps perversely arbitrary." He gave her a ghost of a smile, "Unfortunately, none of that is untrue."
"Ha," she countered, "it may be true, but not for me."
His eyes darkened, "You forget, we have spent a week in our own private idyll. I am almost worried at what you will think of me once you realise I am not perfect."
Apart from the impending punishments, Rosannah had no fear of her good opinion being reduced by anything her husband did. "I believe I already told you, I know you are not perfect, and I stand by what I said. You are perfect for me." She rested her naked hand upon his cheek, "I do not know anyone else who would suffer his own reputation for the sake of affording me some relief. And it will Gray; knowing I can prevail upon you when I am overcome and you will hide my fears with your temper..." Her thumb stroked over his cheekbone as she gazed in his eyes, "... such blissful relief."
He looked down his straight nose and raised his eyebrow, "I would suffer anything to afford you relief."
"And that is why I know it is not true for me," she smiled cheekily, "and if you truthfully do not mind, I believe I may take you up on your offer. There are times when it would be a relief to have a ready excuse to avoid dancing. If I can use your name on occasion, I would appreciate it."
His smile was fat with satisfaction. "Use it," he ordered, "whenever you desire. For dancing or any other thing you wish to avoid. I will be the tyrant and they will adore you."
She was shocked, "I don't wish people to think that of you."
"I do, I find the thought amusing indeed." There was honesty in his look.
"Very well then tyrant. Perhaps I will come and seek permission every time I dance," her eyes glittered with amusement. "We could have a code that lets you determine my wishes."
He ran his finger over his bottom lip, nodding thoughtfully.
"I like the sound of that. How about, when you address me as 'my dear', I shall refuse. When you ask me as Your Grace, I shall allow. Does that sound satisfactory?"
"Why do you choose to do it that way around?" she thought surely it should be the opposite.
"Because when you address me as 'my dear' I cannot refuse you anything. The real question you are asking is 'will you stop me from dancing with this man?' And my answer will be yes." His index finger patted his lip as he spoke.
He moved it to her lip as his gaze softened with love, "Always yes." He rubbed gently, "I will always see you happy. Do not worry about being a duchess, I will do my utmost to aid you in every way."
"Thank you Grayson," she leant against his shoulder then, wrapping her arms around his and clasping his hand with her un-gloved one. "I never knew what it was to trust someone as I trust you."
"Woman, when you say things like that, it makes me feel like a champion knight." Fierce pride sounded in his voice.
"Good, because that is what you are to me."
She wondered how they would succeed in their deception if her true feelings were plastered over her face, "Do I show my inner thoughts to everyone?"
"You hide yourself well from others," he murmured, "Just not from me. Especially when it is about me," he added with pleasure.
"That is good." She was content with his answer.
The carriage rolled through the countryside and she stayed on his arm, relaxed in his presence, and stronger for it.
She thought back to her successful meeting with Mrs Wingrove. Within the boundaries of conversation, Mrs W had gently remarked on the difference in Rosannah's speech when she was beside her husband.
Rosannah had agreed, "Yes I know. Y..you have been so kind as to ignore my sss.stutter. It comes mainly when I am worried or feel out of my d..depth. When I am beside His Grace, I feel neither of those things."
"He is ferociously protective of you," the housekeeper admitted, "I can see why you feel stronger by his side."
"I do, he m..makes everything easier," Rosannah had said fondly.
"You were fortunate to find each other. Not many people have what you two do," Mrs Wingrove remarked.
"I know," Rosannah acknowledged, "I thank God every day that he brought us t..together."
It had been a strange conversation to have with the housekeeper. But Rosannah felt a maternal warmth from Mrs W that had never come from her own mother and as such there was a sense of ease. Twas not long before her stutter disappeared altogether.
"Henry, do you think I should not be so familiar with the servants?" she asked.
"I think you should be as familiar as you like, as long as you feel comfortable." His firm voice was casual in its tone. She watched the fields turn into a village as he added, "I don't hold with the notion that we should look down on those born in a different station."
"Me either." She squeezed his arm.
"It is not how God directs us to think, we are all the same in his eyes." His words reflected her belief so entirely, she was shocked.
"I am glad to hear you say so, I feel the same way." His fingers tightened around hers. "It is just that I have never been given the opportunity to draw my own line before, and I am worried that I might not get it right."
"Nothing will be so drastic it cannot be altered," he comforted her with his casual wisdom. "Every mistake can help form us."
"I don't wish to..."
"Embarrass me," he interrupted, "Yes, you have said so before. When will you realise that you worry about this more than I do?" There was gentle admonition in his tone. "I do not believe you could embarrass me, knowing you as I do."
Hmmm, she thought miserably, you do not know that I stutter. Or sometimes cannot speak a word. I know I will shame you then.
Instead of speaking these words out loud, she merely rested her head on his broad shoulder. "I hope that is the case my love. I would not bring you shame for anything."
"Nor will you," he said, sounding assured of the fact. She wished she could feel quite so certain.
They rested overnight in an inn. The journey would take from dawn until nightfall, should they attempt it in one day.
As they entered their rooms, exhaustion swept over Rosannah and she could barely keep her eyes open as they ate.
As was the new norm, her husband attended to her undressing. She believed Maisie would never have to undo her stays for her whole married life.
Once she wore nothing, he reached for her night-rail. She regarded it in disgust, she did not want any barrier between her and her husband. He laughed at her expression but said soberly, "We are not at home here. You must retain some protection."
She shook her head, "No Grayson, you are my protection."
He growled, "You will be the undoing of me, wife." But his hard look softened as he put the night-rail over the post, by her side of the bed. "It will remain here and you will don it upon my order," he said authoritatively.
She stifled a yawn as she smiled, "Very well husband."
"Bed," he ordered and pulled back the covers. She scooted in as he double checked the doors were locked. His strongest man-servant was on guard outside, ready to protect them if any trouble should arise from rowdy guests, while the others that helped surround and protect their carriage were somewhere else she had no idea of.
She was practically asleep as he returned and undressed. When he slipped in beside her, she pressed her skin against his as sleep overtook.
"Rosannah, it is time to wake." Her husband shook her and she feebly pushed his hands away. A deep chuckle reverberated as he refused her attempts to stop him. "We must get away as soon as we can."
At this she sat bolt upright, she had no intention of leaving without laying with her husband, but it sounded as if they had not time. The truth of it was apparent when she saw he was already dressed.
Disappointment flooded through her, she could not manage through the day without intimacy. She had not done so since her marriage and the idea was abhorrent. She heard his groan and raised her eyes to his.
"I believe I was wrong to let you sleep on," he said gruffly. "I know what you are feeling, but we have not time."
She shook her head stubbornly, she was not leaving this bed until they made the time. He laughed at her impudence and kissed her mouth.
"No, Rosannah." He said sternly. But for an answer she slid her hands into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers.
Pressing her lips against his, she felt his stubborn refusal to open his mouth. She licked along the fullness of his lips. Nothing. Sighing against him, she knelt up, letting the sheet drop.
His eyes clamped shut, almost comically, as he pulled away, "No. It will not work. We must go." She wrapped her arms and legs about him as he stood up, and held on like a monkey. Her lips sought his in desperation. Needing his tongue to dance with hers, needing the way he touched her, needing the assurance that he gave her in those loving moments.
He sounded strained as he repeated, "No," but she saw her opportunity and thrust her tongue between her lips.
Groaning, he resisted her lips no more. He rained kisses on her, and finally his tongue entered her mouth. She sighed and wriggled against him, happy that she won at least this small battle.
She parried with her tongue, tenderness and desire showing, as per usual. She put all her love into their dalliance. She wanted him to know the enormity of her feeling for him.
He groaned again and pulled away. She saw reluctance in his eyes, but also a firmness she didn't like, "Rosannah, we have not time for this. I am sorry," he stifled a moan as her lips sought his again, but he pulled away, "you cannot know how sorry. But we need to make it to London by late afternoon."
She pouted, but realised her battle was futile. They were not going to make love this morning. Frustration and sorrow fought for space in her mind as she slid her feet to the floor.
"Very well, will you send Maisie to help me dress?" She turned to her valise, ignoring the look of hurt surprise on his face. He had attended to her needs every morning and enjoyed helping her don her outfits.
Well, now she was in no mind to give him the satisfaction that she lacked. She bent to her case and retrieved her undergarments. She didn't hear his footsteps retreating to find Maisie and turned to see him waiting with an implacable certainty, "I will attend to your dress. I will call Maisie only to help you with your ablutions. How urgent is the need?"
She looked at him, frustration making her feel unreasonable. "Quite urgent, I require her now please."
He narrowed his eyes, telling her he knew exactly what she was about. "Very well, I will call her." He stepped closer, steel in his gaze, "But I will be the one to help you dress Rosannah, not Maisie," his voice was low with warning and she felt contrarily thrilled at the thought they might have their first fight.
She turned her back to him and waited for him to leave. Once she heard the door close behind him she rushed to lock it to complete her ritual in private. She soon heard Maisie knocking softly.
"There you are, please help me don my dress. Apparently we are in quite a hurry." She tried not to let her maid hear the petulance she felt, it was not of her doing after all.
A look of distress appeared on Maisie's face and Rosannah knew that The Duke had already spoken to her on this matter. She did not want to pull the poor girl into blame with her husband. "Do not fear, please remove my chamber pot and return to see to my hair." Rosannah smiled.
Once Maisie had quit the room, Rosannah firmly sent the bolt home and turned to the task of attempting to dress herself.
Deciding that she could do without her stays, as indeed she wore them so loose her dress would still fit, she looked in her trunk and tried to think what else she could abandon. She heard a knock on the door and ignored it.
"Rosannah, let me in." There was humour in Henry's voice which only succeeded in fuelling her ire. She deliberately remained quiet and pulled out her petticoats and shift, quickly donning them and pulling the strings to fasten them.
Knocking began in earnest, "Love, open the door," he called beguilingly, "you know it would be quicker."
She allowed herself a loud humph and was displeased to hear his chuckle on the other side of the door. Pulling out her redingote, she tried to fasten it quickly so she would be done before Maisie returned.
She struggled with working the buttons quickly.
"Rosannah, open the door. It is not done for a Duke to be seen begging outside his wife's chamber." Although he sounded stern, she could still discern his humour had not abated.
She hoped she looked presentable enough that her appearance would not add to his mirth, and flung the door open, tilting her chin in defiance.
His eyes sparkled and he pulled her into his arms, ignoring her flailing fists as they ineffectively, and admittedly half-heartedly, pummelled his chest. He lowered his lips to hers and she fought to retain her composure.
As his tongue darted out to lick her lips she gave up hope and melted into his kiss. Unfortunately it was not long enough and he stopped it before she was ready, yet again adding insult to injury.
She frowned but he just calmly tipped his hat, and without saying a word, sauntered towards the stairs. He turned as he reached the top, "I shall wait for you in the carriage Your Grace." His smile was wickedly handsome and she found it infuriatingly adding to her unfulfilled desire.
He was saved from her retort as Maisie appeared with a man-servant to take the cases to the carriage.
In her room, she sat still while Maisie quickly fashioned her hair into an elegant, slightly bouffant chignon. She wasn't keen on the ridiculously high hairstyles of the day, but agreed to a slight height as a respectful nod to those who chose otherwise. Fortunately the craze seemed to be abating and she was considering allowing her curls free reign.
She did not let the petulant and childish part of her delay her descent. There was obviously a reason they were in a hurry to leave and despite her anger, she did not really wish to offend her husband.
She approached the door of the carriage and it opened at once, Henry put out his hand and grasped hers to pull her inside. She sat opposite him and arranged her skirt to sit handsomely, ignoring his smiling face.
As the journey progressed her grumpiness did not abate, she fidgeted upon her seat and watched quaint villages come then go, dully admiring the meadows and woods as they streamed past the windows.
Every so often she glanced at Henry to find him studiously watching her with delight. It only increased her irritation. Every so often he would ask her a question or point something out and she would reply in as few words as possible.
Every time she did so his smile widened, until finally she was so disgruntled she burst out, "I'm glad you find me so amusing Your Grace. Tell me, what it is about my displeasure that you find so charming?" she glared at him, daring him to come up with an excuse. But if she thought her words would annoy him, she was mistaken - a full grin appeared on his face at her snappish words.
"Well my beautiful irate wife, I could not give but one reason. In fact there are a few." His words stumped her and she stared at him, wondering what he was about.
She waited, fearing she would sound like a harridan if she spoke, finally his silence provoked her. Determinedly using a syrup-sweet voice she prompted, "Please do indulge my curiosity and reveal them."
He sat forward, a gleam in his eye, "Very well. For one, I find enormous satisfaction that the mere act of missing our usual morning activity has such an adverse effect upon your temper," the corner of his mouth raised in a smug gesture, "it makes me feel quite..." he paused as he thought, "... indispensable to you, which is a feeling I admit I enjoy." He raised a satisfied eyebrow.
She fought to keep her look from revealing her softening stance. He really did have a wonderful way with words.
A gratified look overtook his face as he continued, "I also revel in the fact, that my elegant, genteel, accomplished, gentle new wife, feels comfortable enough with me to reveal her true feelings. Even when they are not so positive as her usual temperament." His warm eyes bore into hers and she realised with a jolt, the truth of what he was saying. She had not considered that aspect and also found it pleasing to discover her ability to reveal her less-than-delicate inner-self to her husband.
She pressed her lips together, but her eyes gleamed with the smile she refused to show on her mouth - it really was most exasperating that he could quell her bad temper so easily.
Unfortunately he knew what she was doing and his grin widened as he watched her teeth join the struggle to hold down her rising lip.
"Another reason for my delight," he added, never wavering in his intent, "is the knowledge that my wild, perfect, wanton wife desires me so deeply." His eyes sobered, "Especially when I consider our unfortunate start." He reached out his hand and pulled her lip from her teeth, finally allowing the smile to be set free.
Sparks from his fingers shot through her and she could not stop the air escaping her lips, "Oh Henry, do you have to be so... so..." the smug look on his face forced her to finish with, "vexing?"
"Only with you," he breathed as he came to his knees before her.
Rosannah could hardly think straight, his nearness was intoxicating as he leaned and whispered into her ear softly, his warm breath fanning the flames, "I also believe I would delight in helping my beloved wife out of her..." he paused wickedly and kissed the shell of her ear, "..vexation," he all but mouthed.
She juddered as desire coursed through her. "Surely not in a carriage?" she swallowed dryly.
"I do not see a reason not," he kissed her throat and she leaned her head back, "there is no other in here." He leant away and drew the curtains over each window. "No one outside will see anything, even if they should appear on the road." His hand touched her ankle and she jumped.
"But your men about us..."
"Are in front and behind, paying more attention to the road than us."
She frowned. "It seems so improper," she wailed in submission as his fingers stroked her ankle bone and made a torturously slow ascent. Her skin twitched as his fingers trailed languidly up to her knee. His lips at her neck producing such delightful tingles, she could not keep still.
She turned her head, searching for his mouth, as her hand clutched his shoulder. Her traitorous body wanted her to give in; she wanted him to touch her, to free her of the heavy ache she felt would destroy her if left unsatisfied.
"I think," he said against her lips before pulling painfully away, she almost cried, "between a husband and wife, nothing is improper..." he kissed her again, "even in a carriage." He withdrew to look at her, his eyes ablaze with his own desperation. She was tremulous with wanting him closer.
"My wife need only say the word, and I would be honoured, delighted and even eager, to help her with her current predicament." He looked at her longingly, his hand stroking her stocking right up to the place where silk met skin.
She gasped loudly and her fingers convulsed, messing up his neat waistcoat. His fingers went no higher, but continued to dance over her sensitive thighs. He watched her through hooded eyes and she knew she would have to say the words.
"Gray, please..." she begged hoping it was enough. It was - his lips crashed forcefully onto hers, much to her delight.
"Whenever you call me that, my whole body becomes alive," he growled as she lost coherent thought.
And Rosannah soon discovered it was possible to make love in a carriage in the middle of the countryside.
.
Rosannah leant into the warmth of her husband's arms as the carriage bounced its way towards London. They had spent an enjoyable afternoon making up for her sullen morning.
"Thank you for being so patient with me my love," she mumbled against his chest, "I am ashamed of my petulance. I'm sure I know that you did nothing to deserve it." She raised her head, "I'm sorry."
He stroked her wayward curls away from her face with a loving look, "I forgive you. It turned out quite well don't you think?" his arm tightened around her.
"Yes, but I cannot believe I behaved so appallingly," a blush rose on her cheeks, "I can see now that I was beyond unreasonable."
His chest rumbled beneath her, "Oh Rosie, I'm so glad you need our intimacy as much as I do. Perhaps now you are aware of your desperation, you might be more on your guard against your temper," he teased without rancour. "Though, if this is the result, perhaps is it best not?"
She slapped his chest lightly. "You are impossible." But she laid her head against him just the same. His chest rose and fell with his breathing and she reached under his shirt so she could tangle the tips of her fingers into his soft chest hair.
Eventually the scenery rolling past behind the curtains changed and it was obvious they would not be able to continue the journey while in such a rumpled state. With a sigh she sat up and started fastening her laces and straightening her redingote.
Her husband followed suit, though she saw unwillingness in his eyes.
"Why was it so imperative we return so punctually tonight?" she suddenly remembered to ask.
"My mother is hosting a gathering to welcome us back." He saw the expression on her face and rushed to comfort her. "Now love, do not let this news ruin your serenity. I am almost certain there will be no time between now and the party for me to help reduce your vexation," he winked.
She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. "I am not the only one who suffers from vexation," she said defiantly.
His eyes widened even as he grinned, "No. In that respect my love, you most certainly are not alone."
He eyed her apparel then pulled back the curtains to reveal the outskirts of town. Rosannah sighed soulfully, she had so hoped to avoid socialising for as long as she could, but it was not to be. Tonight she would have her first outing as Duchess of Amberly.