The Decadent Duke (33 page)

Eagerly, Susan lifted her petticoats and straddled his hips. When he pulled her down and thrust his erection up inside her, she cried out with pleasure.

William held absolutely motionless, relishing the fever heat.

She feared he would deliberately make her wait because he enjoyed being in control, but she was so aroused, she began to move up and down, riding him.

He partially withdrew, and clamped his hands about her hips to hold her still. “What do you want? Say it, Susan.”

She bit her lip, trying not to beg, but she knew his will was stronger than hers. If she didn't say the things he liked, he was quite capable of leaving her wildly aroused but unsatisfied.

“Please, I want you to make love to me,”he whispered.

“I can't hear you, Susan.”

“Hurry, I need you to love me, William.”

“You have to say it, Susan.V

“Take me, William! I love the feel of your cock inside me. Please make me come.v
You cruel, faithless bastard!

He laughed, and surged up inside her. He was a powerful man, and he rolled her beneath him, thrusting his hard erection in and out like a ramrod.

Later that day, when a letter was delivered from the Duke of Bedford, Montagu read it and went in search of Susan.

“It seems Francis didn't sweep Georgina off to Woburn after all. By the sounds of this, the shrewd little cocktease held him at bay and didn't even let him fuck her.”

“How do you know?” “Apparently, she's refused to spread her legs for him until he gets rid of his mistress Marianna Palmer. Francis is so avid to bed Georgy, he's willing to offer her marriage. By refusing to let him dip his dick, Georgina has brought him to heel.”

“If she isn't at Woburn, where the devil is she?”

“Obviously, she screamed in outrage at his randy demands, issued her ultimatum, and ran home to Mother.”

Susan took the letter and read the last sentence aloud:
“I will make a formal call upon the Duchess of Gordon and, with Georgina's permission, announce

our engagement publicly.
Oh, Mother will be over the moon! We certainly did our part to bring about this incomparable match. I hope Georgina appreciates it.”

 
“I take it Georgina has decided to extend her stay at Kimbolton. Thank heavens she sent you back with the carriage, Toby. I cannot abide riding around London in a hackney. It is a most unsuitable mode of transportation for a duchess. I've been on tenterhooks for news. I can't wait to read her letter.V

Toby looked at her expectant face and knew his words would wipe away her smile. “I have no letter, Your Grace.V

“Georgina didn't write to me? How exceedingly thoughtless! She could have at least told me how she enjoyed the birthday celebration and how long she intends to stay at Kimbolton.”

“Lady Georgina isn't at Kimbolton, Your Grace. She insisted that I drive her to Brome Hall, in Suffolk, to visit her sister.V

“Why the devil would she leave Kimbolton?V Toby was not about to divulge that Georgina had fled in the middle of the night, nor inform the duchess of his suspicions. She would not take kindly to a servant knowing anything of an intimate nature regarding her daughter.

I know only too well why she left! The stubborn, thankless girl has run off to Louisa to avoid the Duke of Bedford. After all the carefully laid plans for a private rendezvous, this is how she repays me!
She dismissed Toby. “Give the horses a rubdown.”

Jane was furious, not only with Georgina, but with Susan and Louisa as well.
Daughters are a curse! They are vexing, thankless creatures!
For the next two hours she slammed doors and reprimanded the servants for the slightest provocation. She canceled her plans for the evening because she could not face her friends. Instead, she went to bed early, nursing a headache.

The next morning, when she received a letter bearing the ducal crest of the Duke and Duchess of Manchester, she tore it open, and her mood began to lift as she read Susan's words.

 
Jane sat down quickly, quite overcome with her achievement. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she reread the letter.
My clever little Georgy. Daughters are such a blessing!

 
John Russell left the benches of the House of Commons in disgust. He turned when he heard Henry, Lord Holland, call his name. “Attendance today was shameful. You and I have been here every session this week, but where the hell are the other members?”

“It's mid-February and nothing has been done since we broke for Christmas. The members should have returned by now. Perhaps the early spring has enticed them to remain at their country estates.”

John thought of his brother. Something was keeping him at Woburn, but John suspected it was visits to Kimbolton rather than spring that was attracting him. He expected Francis to return to London any day, announcing he'd asked Georgina Gordon to marry him. John dreaded the news. Contemplating such a match was anathema to him. He deliberately thrust the thought away and returned to his conversation with Henry.

“I believe the problem lies with Henry Addington. I warrant neither Whigs nor Tories want to serve under him.”

“When Pitt was prime minister the benches were always filled.”

“That's because the members of both parties respected him.”

Henry sighed. “Perhaps in time they will accept Addington.V

“Never! You are deluding yourself. There
is
a solution.” He gave his friend a speculative look. “We could ask Addington for a private meeting, tell him bluntly how matters stand, and ask him to resign for the good of the country.”

“Ask the prime minister of England to resign? That would take a great deal of courage.”

John laughed. “I'll do the asking, if you will accompany me.”

“I'll willingly act as your silent partner.”

“Thank you, Henry. I knew I could count on you. I'll formally request a private meeting with him, and start work on a speech that will move the man to tears and persuade him to step down so that Pitt can be reinstated.”

That night, when John began to make notes of what he would say to Addington, thoughts of Georgina stole to him and filled his senses. For the first time he admitted how much the vibrant young beauty attracted him. After the bleak years of his marriage, he secretly hungered for a vivacious companion who was filled with laughter and a passion for life.
The minute I was free, I should have gone to her and told her how I felt, instead of pushing her away.
He cursed himself for a fool.
Now it's too late. Francis will capture the prize!
Shame washed over him that he was jealous of his brother. He resolved to put an end to his yearning for what could never be.
Thou shalt not covet thy brother's wife.

 
Francis Russell was in no hurry to leave Woburn. Because his towering pride would not allow Georgina Gordon to thwart him, he had made up his mind to have her at any cost. But the price was high. The thought of giving up Marianna Palmer filled him with frustration and made him feel impotent. Luckily, there was a cure close at hand. To restore his manhood, and prove his virility, he had turned to Molly Hill.

“Francis, you're early tonight. I haven't finished dinner.”

“Stand up, Molly. I have a raging appetite that needs satisfying.” His riding crop swept the dishes from the table.

She was used to servicing his sexual needs in odd places, whenever the desire came upon him. They often went for bruising gallops across his fields, where he would abruptly draw rein, pull her from the saddle, and mount her beneath a hedge on the hard ground. But lately his lust had increased alarmingly, and his demands were taking a toll on both of them. Last night's bed sport had begun well enough, but he had been unable to stay hard. For hours, she had tried to satisfy the duke's frenzied demands, using her fingers and her mouth to stimulate him, but nothing she did produced the results he desired.

Molly watched him open his breeches and saw his cock spring up, ready for action. “You are insatiable, Your Grace.”

Francis bent her over the table and flung up her skirts. He thrust himself inside her and scythed in and out with a vengeance. Though he kept at it doggedly, his shaft became flaccid, and when he could not spend, he cursed savagely.

Molly had run a London brothel in her younger days. Nothing shocked her, and she knew all the tricks of the trade. “Francis, you need release. I will find a way to give it to you.”

He grudgingly withdrew, and Molly rolled off the table. She went to a cabinet, measured a liberal amount of powdered dog's mercury into a glass, and filled it with brandy.

Within half an hour of consuming the potion, the duke's cock began to swell. Molly helped him disrobe and led him to her high bed. He climbed on and lay down, watching impatiently as she undressed. Her breasts were huge and bounced about like balloons. Her thighs were thick and firm with saddle muscles from her frequent riding. “Lie prone, so I can give you a rubdown.”

Molly poured some scented oil on her hands, and began to massage his buttocks. Her palms moved in ever smaller, tighter circles. Then she slid a polished ivory rod into the cleft between his bum cheeks. His entire groin began to throb, and he arched his bottom off the bed. “Christ, that feels good. I'm randy as a stallion. Lie down and open your legs—I don't want to waste it.”

Molly spread herself on the bed. He mounted her and began to buck and thrust like a wild bull. He achieved a hard, throbbing climax and moaned, “Christ Almighty, it was over too fast.”

When he collapsed onto her, she sighed with relief. “Don't move. Just close your eyes, and you'll be asleep in no time.”

In less than ten minutes his shaft turned as hard as marble, and the head of his cock began to pulse. Molly realized with dismay that she'd given him too much of the herbal stimulant. She'd known cases where the effects had lasted for days.

He mounted her again for a lengthy ride, and when she'd had enough she brought him to climax by manipulating the polished ivory rod. By midnight, Francis had never felt as potent and virile in his life. He had the sexual stamina of ten men. Eventually, he fell into a deep sleep filled with erotic dreams, and when he awoke in the small hours of the morning, he was ready to start all over again.

After he had made use of every orifice on Molly's body he began to feel sated. He hauled her up from the floor and lifted her onto the bed for one last tumble. He fell on her like a ravening beast, biting her breasts. Then he rose up and took his cock in his hand. But before he could plunge down, a scream erupted from his throat; he brought his knees up to his belly and rolled in agony on the bed.

“What is it, Francis?” Alarmed, Molly jumped off the bed.

“Christ!” He pressed both hands to his groin. “It's my bloody hernia!” He moaned, tried to rise, and fell back in terrible pain. Slowly, he lifted his hands to reveal a swollen lump protruding from his abdomen. He pressed his hands back to his belly and cried, “Go and get Mr. Burke. Hurry! I'm in agony!”

 
“Burke, thank Christ! Get me up to the house—I need a doctor. The pain is excruciating!” Francis groaned uncontrollably.

One glance at the naked man rolling on the bed told him that the duke was in dire straits and needed help. Burke immediately took charge. “Mrs. Hill, get a footman down here and tell the head groom to ride into town for Dr. Halifax.V

Burke looked around the plush chamber and spotted a lacquered bamboo screen that would make do as a stretcher. He removed one of the panels, brought it to the bed, and lifted the tortured man onto it. He covered Francis with a blanket, and when the footman arrived, they carried their writhing, moaning burden up to the house and deposited him on his own bed.

Amid screams and curses, Mr. Burke washed Francis, dressed him in a freshly laundered nightshirt, and propped him up with pillows. Then he poured him a large brandy, hoping to ease his suffering until medical help arrived.

Within the hour, the duke's physician appeared, and Mr. Burke led him upstairs. “His Grace is in agony, Dr. Halifax. He suffered an injury while playing a strenuous game of tennis. We managed to carry him up to bed, but he has been writhing in pain since the unfortunate incident occurred.”

Halifax could see for himself that Francis was in acute misery. He raised the duke's nightshirt and saw the protrusion on his abdomen. “Good God, Bedford, you've twisted your bowel!V

“For Christ's sake, help me, Halifax!V