Two Notorious Dukes (4 page)

Robert Bosworth climbed into the interior of his
coach and sat opposite Abigail Beresford. She opened
the collar of her cloak and revealed a dress as
transparent as Lady Wentworth’s.

Robert groaned as his manhood throbbed again.
‘You are a vixen.’ He murmured as he whipped his hat
off and slid off the seat onto his knees. His cloak fell
about his calves and he snapped open the fastenings of
his britches, yanking the flap down to reveal his
throbbing member to a giggling Abigail.

She had slid her backside to the edge of the seat
and was slowly in the process of lifting her hem. He
smiled as he saw her shapely legs encased in white silk
and beribboned garters. He stroked his fingers up the
silky legs until he encountered her silky flesh and his
smile widened as she opened her legs as wide as the
carriage would permit. She plucked her mons pubis, so
she looked like a little girl and his penis became so
engorged it ached. There was no waiting or teasing for
him tonight. He plunged into her like a tuppenny whore
and didn’t even kiss her, just opened the front of her
gown and buried his mouth between her pearlescent
breasts. She gasped as he plunged in, but still her hips
rose to meet him and it was harsh and frantic as he
glided inside her with long quick strokes. He clutched
her bare thighs to hold her still as he pummelled her for
her first orgasm and sucked harshly on her nipples.

‘Oh! God! Robbie!’ burst from her as her internal
muscles went berserk. He forced himself in to the hilt as
he explosively spurted his seed into her and he held it as
they moaned at the ecstasy of her pulses. He wrapped
his arms about her and dragged her off the seat to sit on
his manhood and it made her writhe and moan. ‘Oh!
God! Robbie!’ she murmured again. ‘You’re so good.’
She sighed in satisfaction. ‘I’m going to miss you when
Roderick gets back from India.’

He gently kissed her cheek and rubbed his cheek
against her hair. ‘You’ll miss me before then, I should
imagine.’ He muttered.

‘Why?’ she demanded and pushed her top half
away to look at him in the dim light of the carriage.
‘Verity Argyll is setting me up for marriage.’ He
said calmly.
‘Well, that doesn’t mean that I have to lose you.’
she said vindictively. ‘Most married men have
mistresses!’
‘Accept your husband.’ Robert said firmly ‘and
anyway, you’re a diversion Abi, just a diversion,’ and to
stop her from talking any more he kissed her and
explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue. By
the time he broke the kiss she was already writhing on
him, so he laid her carefully back on the seat and
tupped her again, but this time he was slow and
deliberate. Pushing in to the hilt and then pulling back
almost to the point of withdrawal, making her gasp
before he pushed in again. He held her knees to keep
her legs as wide apart as possible and he watched his
member as it vanished and reappeared from the depths
of her wanton flesh. She moaned, groaned and thrashed
her head from side to side, as she clutched at his
shoulders and panted. This time her orgasm was more
explosive and she almost bucked like an unbroken colt.
If he’d not had his hands on her hips at the right
moment, she would have thrown him off. He pushed in
and enjoyed the throbbing and contractions of her
passageway. As his manhood shrivelled away from her
he sat back on his heels and just looked at her sex. It
was certainly well used, even by him, and he had a
sudden picture of Elizabeth Audley in the same position.
He was overwhelmed with the desire to kiss, lick and
suck her and his manhood stood up at the thought. But
he focused on the body in front of him and he almost
gagged at the idea of kissing, licking and sucking Abigail.
Instead he grabbed her knees harshly and plunged in
again and tupped her to the point that she screamed for
mercy. He shrank away again and sat back with a
satisfied sigh. He carefully pulled her gown down to her
ankles and folded up the front of his britches, hiding his
manhood again.
‘Are you satisfied, Lady Beresford?’ he
murmured as he picked his cloak up and swirled it
around his shoulders.
‘Excessively, Lord Bosworth.’ She intoned as she
hefted her rather large breasts back into the bodice of
her dress.
Robert sat on the seat and had his hat in his
hands. ‘How do you get your dress to be transparent?’
he asked innocently.
She smiled knowingly. ‘Water.’ She said as she
pulled her cloak about her shoulders.
Robert tapped on the roof. ‘Hanover Square.’ He
said loudly. ‘Water?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, it’s only muslin, so it has to be sprayed with
water to make it see through.’ She giggled like a
naughty girl and Robert almost cringed. He’d not really
appraised his feelings towards Abigail, other than she
was an excellent candidate for ravishing. He certainly
wouldn’t marry her. He was aware that being a Duke
and sitting in the House of Lords, he needed to marry a
decorous and demure woman, not a harlot like this one.
Still that was Beresford’s problem and he was getting to
the point that he would stop rodgering her anyway. He
had tried not to wonder how many other men were
sampling her wares. They chatted amiably until the
coach pulled up outside the red brick townhouse of her
husband. The footman opened the door and held out
his hand. Abigail skipped out of the carriage and up the
steps before she turned to wave at him.
‘I must separate myself from her.’ He said as he
again thought about his response to her body.
She
served a purpose, but that time is over and I can do
without getting shot by her husband!
He looked at the footman and said ‘Home.’ The
man nodded and closed the door. The journey was
quick as there wasn’t much traffic on the roads.
Robert climbed wearily down from the carriage
and sauntered up the steps into his ornate and grand
front porch. He only lived across the square from Argyll.
He wondered what Argyll was up to as he placed his hat
on the hall table, swirled his cloak off and gave it to the
butler, and went into his study. He poured a brandy and
sipped it contemplatively by the fire.
Watching the flames leaping out of the coals
made him think about Lady Elizabeth Audley and the
flames in her hair. She was so small and she only just
reached his armpit. He thought again about having sex
with her and his manhood stood up again. ‘You can shut
up.’ He murmured at it. ‘You get me into more trouble
than anything else.’ But he thought about how small her
body seemed and tried to imagine her naked and sat on
his lap, like Abigail had been in the coach and couldn’t.
He suspected she would be like a china doll and break if
he tried to make love with her. He threw the rest of his
brandy down his throat and went up to his room to find
his valet, Burke, just finishing filling the bath.
‘I assumed you’d need one tonight, Your Grace?’
he said amiably.
‘I do indeed.’ Robert said as he stripped off his
clothes and dowsed himself in the hot water, soaped his
genitals thoroughly two or three times and then just sat
in the water. He lay back against the towel and gently
rubbed the round indented scar in his shoulder.
‘Would you like me to see to that, Your Grace?’
Burke asked as he came back with some more towels.
He swished his hands in the water, lathered them with
soap and proceeded to massage all the muscles in
Robert’s right shoulder, both front and back.
He groaned as the muscles unlocked and the
pain receded. ‘That’s heaven, Burke. It didn’t help
tonight when Abigail Beresford dug her thumb in it.’
‘I really think you should let a proper surgeon
have a look at it, Your Grace.’ Burke murmured.
‘No sawbones is going to dig around in my
shoulder for the fragments.’ Robert said sharply. ‘I had
enough of that at the time. Bloody army surgeons.’
‘Well, at least they got out the material, Your
Grace, otherwise you would have died!’
‘That I would, Burke, that I would.’ Burke
finished his ministrations and Robert lay with his
shoulder in the water until it was nearly cold. He rubbed
himself dry and went into his bedroom, throwing
himself face down on the bed, he groaned loudly as
Burke covered him over with a sheet and eiderdown,
blew out all the lanterns and went out.
He woke at half past four, bathed in sweat and
wrapped in his wringing wet sheets. He knew he was
dreaming about Flanders, India or Copenhagen again.
He dreamed every time the wound ached.
It’s going to
rain tomorrow.
He said to himself as he again massaged
the round indentation.
It only aches like this when it’s
going to rain.
He thought back to the campaign in
Flanders, when it was so foggy you couldn’t see the
French, the oppressive heat in India and Copenhagen,
when it was a stand off over a bloody fleet. He smiled as
he recollected the pretty Danish girl that had tended to
his wound, after the surgeon had finished digging in it.
‘Are you alright, Your Grace?’ Burke asked as he
opened the door a crack.
‘Yes, Burke. I was just dreaming.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No thank you, Burke. But you should be in bed.’
‘I was just on my way, Your Grace.’ Burke said
calmly and quietly shut the door. Burke had been there
that fateful day. The day he had been shot, the day he
had been told his whole family had died from the
morbid sore throat and he was now a Duke and would
have to go home. He rolled on his side and again
recalled the devastation he felt at the news that his
parents, his elder brother and his wife and children, and
his little sister were all dead. He gazed into the flames of
the fire and saw again the battle field as they worked to
enclose Copenhagen in a siege. He felt again the searing
pain in his shoulder as the lead ball tore into his flesh
and broke his clavicle as the mortars dropped all around
him. Then Burke was there, trusty, faithful Sergeant
Burke, he lifted Robert up as if he was a maiden and ran
with him back to the surgeon’s tent.
Eventually he dozed off, but he slept fitfully until
daybreak. He was up, washed and dressed before Burke
even came to open his curtains.
‘Good morning, Your Grace. What is on for
today?’
‘Not much, Burke. I’m supposed to accompany
Argyll to the House sometime today, but it’s not that
important.’ He went into the breakfast room and helped
himself to breakfast.

The footman announced Robert to the ladies
and they genteelly stood for him as he entered the
drawing room. ‘Good morning Lady Verity, Countess.’
He said formally to the occupants of the room and
bowed as etiquette dictated that he should.

‘Good morning, Robert.’ Lady Verity answered
and resumed her seat. ‘Do sit down, John shouldn’t be
long.’ Robert dropped into a wingback chair by the
ornate fireplace. ‘And what terrible trouble are you two
going to get into today, then?’ Lady Verity asked
acerbically.

‘We are going to sit in the House for the day and
get drunk at Boodle’s tonight, I should think!’ Robert
turned his head and looked at Lady Elizabeth and was
surprised to see that she had moved nearer to the
window. He was suddenly captivated at the way the sun
released the fire in her hair. Unlike the previous
evening, Lady Elizabeth’s hair was not harshly restrained
or curled into ringlets, but tumbled over her shoulders
in a blazing cascade. She had her head bent as she
concentrated on the needlework in her hands, but her
profile was exquisite, with the sunny window behind
her. Robert suddenly found his throat dry and abruptly
turned his attention away from her, before his groin
could give him away.

Lady Verity slowly went and summoned a
footman and she smirked while she did it.
Oh! Yes! My
elusive Duke. I can see it in your face already; she takes
your breath away.
The footman arrived and she asked
for tea.
And you’ll be just what she needs. A kind and
caring husband!
She knew it was an almost impossible
hope that Elizabeth would agree to marry anyone, after
her last marriage, but Verity had her money on the
Duke of Roding winning her around, without even
realising he was doing it. All she needed to do was
promote him as the knight in shining armour and try to
bury some of his more saucy escapades. She already
knew he was tupping Abigail Beresford in his or her
coach at anytime of the day! And there was a certain
Lady Wentworth who he tupped on the upper landing
of her St. James Street townhouse, much to the disgust
of her husband, who was playing Faro in the salon at the
time. The silly Lord Wentworth tried to skewer Robert
with his epee in a quiet corner of Hyde Park and only
managed to get himself a trip to the surgeons. Robert
skewered Wentworth’s left calf, right thigh and left him
with a six inch gash across his middle that the surgeon
had to cauterise. Robert walked away without a mark.
He was an exceptional swordsman and he was a crack
shot with pistols. Anybody who wanted to offer him to a
duel would have to be very brave.

The tea arrived and Lady Verity made small talk
‘I heard that you’re the talk of the
ton
, Robert?’
‘What are they saying this time?’ he asked
without particular interest, because he’d most likely
heard it anyway.
‘I heard you duelled with Lord Basset last week.’
Robert almost choked on his tea. ‘Good God,
Lady Verity, he must at least be a hundred years old. He
wouldn’t even be able to hold the pistol still.’ Robert
sighed and gave her a wicked smile, his lips curving
upwards with a glint in his eyes. ‘I might like to fight
duels over a woman’s honour, Lady Verity, but I’m not a
murderer and that particular duel was not me.’
‘Do you have an alibi?’ she asked cheekily.
‘As a matter of fact I do. Johnny and the Prince,
we were riding at Richmond that morning.’
‘Lady Elizabeth is a good shot, you know. We
ought to have a contest next time we’re all in the
country!’ Lady Verity said brightly.
‘I would find that quite enervating.’ Robert
murmured and turned his head to look again at the
beauty by the window.
‘Really Lady Verity, you know full well that the
long rifle is a little too heavy for me.’
‘A rifle?’ Robert asked in surprise. ‘You have one
of the new Baker rifles?’
‘I do, Your Grace.’ Lady Elizabeth turned her
head and looked calmly at him, with her green eyes
almost like peridot in the sunshine that bathed her in a
golden wash. ‘It was a gift from my second cousin, Sir
Arthur Wellesley.’
‘I didn’t know you were related to Sir Arthur?’
Lady Verity said as she frowned.
‘Only by marriage.’ Lady Elizabeth said coldly,
and Robert saw a shadow flit across her face. ‘But Sir
Arthur was kind enough to teach me how to use one
last summer on his return from the Peninsula.’
‘I assume when Wellesley came home; it was to
grovel for more troops?’ Robert said as he placed his
cup back on the tray.
‘Yes. Horse Guards are being a little difficult with
the campaign in Portugal.’ Lady Elizabeth sighed deeply
and looked out of the window. ‘I don’t suppose the
Portuguese are helping their cause either. According to
Henry it gets more difficult every week.’ She said sadly
and returned her attention to her needlework.
‘I had no idea you were an authority on the
Peninsula War, my dear?’ Lady Verity said with asperity.
‘I’m not an authority, Lady Verity, but I do tend
to listen a lot in public places.’ She smiled benevolently.
‘Some men are stupid enough to talk in front of a
woman, they think she can’t understand them and her
head is full of wool!’
There was a sharp rap on the door and a
footman came in. ‘There is a gentleman to see Lady
Elizabeth, Your Grace.’ He said in a measured voice.
Elizabeth was already shaking her head.
‘No. I won’t see him.’ She said tremulously.
‘Who is it, Rogers?’ Lady Verity enquired.
‘The card says, Alexander Audley, Earl of
Craanford, Your Grace.’
Robert looked again at Elizabeth and he couldn’t
believe the ashen hue to her face. ‘I can’t see him.’ She
whispered. ‘Not on my own.’
‘Allow me to accompany you.’ Robert said as he
stood, which brought a smile to Lady Verity’s face. ‘If
you are so afraid of him, then I shall be there to protect
you.’
‘Good.’ Lady Verity said and looked at the
footman. ‘Show the blackguard into the study. This
matter needs sorting today, so Robert will be there to
assist you.’ Lady Verity looked at him harshly. ‘Do not
leave her alone with him for a second!’ Robert frowned
at her, but nodded his consent. He followed Lady
Elizabeth to the door and admired her bearing. She was
wearing a light green muslin morning gown, with a high
lace collar and long straight sleeves. The hem was far
enough off the floor to expose a good two inches of a
very pretty petticoat and he was amazed to see her
walk as if she was on wheels. As they stepped out into
the hallway, she stumbled sideways and almost collided
with the wall. Robert instinctively put a hand on her
elbow to support her and she yanked her arm out of his
hand, turned abruptly to face him and almost shouted
‘Don’t touch me!’ with a look of absolute terror on her
face.
Robert was so shocked, he didn’t quite know
what to say, but he took a step away from this tiny,
tormented woman and said. ‘My apologies. I was only
trying to stop you from falling.’
She leaned her back against the wall and panted
as if she’d just run across London, sucking in huge
amounts of air. ‘I’m sorry.’ She gasped, ‘but I can’t bear
to be touched by a stranger.’
Into this strange scenario stumbled Johnny
Argyll, nursing a hangover. ‘Damn me, Robbie, but what
are you doing in the hall?’ he asked in astonishment.
‘I was just escorting Lady Elizabeth to a meeting
with the Earl of Craanford.’
‘Craanford!’ Argyll spat vehemently and looked
at Lady Elizabeth. ‘Don’t leave her alone with the
blackguard then!’
‘I shan’t.’ Robert said coldly. ‘But you can tell me
about him later.’ He murmured as he turned again to
follow Lady Elizabeth.
He allowed her to lead the way and was content
to watch her small frame move through the vast house.
She was so dainty and fragile looking, that Robert, like
most decent men, was immediately protective of her.
She arrived at the door to the study and stood there
with her eyes closed, as if she was marshalling her
strength for a confrontation.
‘Is there something I should know, in advance?’
Robert asked softly. She shook her head and opened the
door. Robert followed her in, closed the door quietly
and leaned against it in a nonchalant manner, with his
arms folded over his broad chest.
Craanford was a dandy. He was dressed in a
lavender coloured silk coat, with white silk britches, silk
stockings and shiny patent leather dancing slippers with
silver buckles on them. His shirt was the finest lawn and
the silk cravat was a work of art and tumbled in layers of
lace down his shirt front. His tall foppish hat was the
same colour as his coat and had been discarded on the
desk, along with his silver topped walking cane.
‘Ah! At last!’ Craanford said scathingly. Then he
looked at Robert and said ‘I’m afraid we haven’t been
formally introduced, so you can wait outside.’
‘He is nobody you need to know and he stays
here!’ Elizabeth spat without any finesse. ‘What do you
want Alexander?’ she demanded harshly.
‘You know what I want.’ He said evasively.
‘No!’ she said in horror. ‘I have said no five times
now. The answer is no!’
‘But it is my duty as your cousin to look after
your interests. It is by no means assured you will find
another offer like mine.’ He said spitefully. ‘Nobody
really wants second hand goods!’ he finished so
maliciously that Robert stood up straight and dropped
his hands to his sides. ‘After all, you were well used by
my cousin.’
Robert was horrified to hear such venom in his
voice and he certainly didn’t like the vicious gleam in his
eyes, but Elizabeth hadn’t finished yet and he came to
admire her strength of character in that room.
‘Well used is correct!’ she said harshly. ‘And
after that...’ she paused to find the right word
‘...
monster
was dead I vowed on the family bible that I
would never let another man touch me! So, Alexander
Audley, Earl of Craanford. You have had your answer. IT
IS NO!!’ she shouted right up into his languid face, as
she had stepped forward with every word. Even Robert
at the door was convinced of her earnestness and he
certainly didn’t doubt the fire in her beautiful green
eyes.
‘I would retreat, if I were you old man!’ Robert
said suddenly. ‘Looking at the expression in those eyes,
I’d say you have two minutes before she brains you with
the fire iron!’
It was as if he hadn’t spoken. Craanford towered
over Elizabeth, but she bravely stood her ground.
‘You’re mine.’ Craanford whispered viciously. ‘As all of
my cousins estate is now mine!’
‘Isn’t it fortunate that women are only the
property of their
Husband
!’ she said coldly, ‘and cannot
be entailed away with the rest of the estate!’ She raised
her hand and pointed a finger at him. ‘You have his
title,’ she poked him in the chest to emphasize her
words; ‘his money, his properties and still you are not
satisfied. You come here to demand my hand and I have
said no. I have now said no six times. If you call again, I
will talk to the lawyers and see about keeping you
away!’ She stepped away from him and walked
backwards to the fireplace. ‘Now, leave!’
Robert opened the door, stuck his head out and
shouted for Rogers. Then he stood and waited.
Elizabeth stood there, full of fury, like a Greek goddess.
Craanford walked to the desk and snatched his hat and
cane from the top. ‘This isn’t over. It’ll never be over
until you’re mine!’ he said fiercely.
‘Never!’ Elizabeth spat and turned blazing
emerald eyes on him. ‘I would kill myself first!’
Rogers arrived and said ‘Yes, Your Grace?’
Robert smiled kindly. ‘Would you escort Lord
Audley to the door, please Rogers?’
‘This way, my Lord.’ Rogers said none too
politely and closed the door as he ushered the dandified
Earl out of the room.
Robert stood and looked at the closed door for
just a second, but he span around very quickly as he
heard Lady Elizabeth hit the floor with a thump. He
yanked on the bell pull and was across the room in two
strides. He carefully stroked the rich auburn hair off her
sheet white face. The door opened and he said firmly.
‘Call Lady Elizabeth’s maid.’ He took her wrist and pulled
her upper body off the carpet so he could get his left
arm underneath her shoulders and then he scooped her
legs up into his other arm and lifted her effortlessly off
the carpet. She felt like a doll in his arms, so light and
dainty.
‘Yes, Your Grace?’ a maid said from the
doorway.
Robert turned. ‘I think she fainted. Do you wish
me to carry her upstairs to her room?’
‘I think that would be best, Your Grace. The last
time she had to see him she was ill for a week.’ She held
the door and led Robert to the main staircase.
‘How often does he ask for her hand?’ Robert
asked as he looked down into Elizabeth’s flawless face.
He felt stunned at what he’d witnessed. Not only this
little woman’s fire and strength, but the veiled threats
of the Earl.
I need to ask Johnny about him. And Lady
Verity can do some explaining too!
He thought as the ice
of his indifference cracked wide open.
‘Once a month.’ Mary said softly. ‘And there are
times I wish I was a man. I’d have taken him and his
deceased cousin to Tyburn and strung them up from the
gallows!’ she sobbed suddenly and reached in her
pocket for a handkerchief. ‘The first time he came he
didn’t ask, he just tried to take. Luckily, my Thomas was
outside the door and when she screamed he went in the
door.’ She shook her head sadly and then looked at
Robert in horror. ‘I didn’t say any of that, Your Grace!’
and shut her mouth like a man trap.
Elizabeth issued a gentle moan. ‘We’d better
hurry, Your Grace. She will scream loudly if she wakes
up in your arms.’ Mary started to trot ahead. Robert just
lengthened his stride, his very long legs carrying him
quite quickly. Mary opened the door onto Argyll’s suite
and Robert made straight for the bed, on the raised
dais. He gently lowered her bottom onto the mattress
and released her legs, taking her wrist again he held her
rigid, while he slipped his arm out from behind her
shoulders and gently allowed her to slumber back
against the pillows. ‘How anybody could hurt so
beautiful a woman.’ He whispered as he stroked her
hair again and it felt like silk under his fingers ‘is totally
beyond me.’
‘Your Grace?’ Mary touched his shoulder. ‘You
should leave now, she will be sick when she wakes.’ He
nodded distractedly, but he couldn’t resist touching her
face with his fingertips.
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll leave you
to it.’ He said firmly and stood up from where he’d sat
on the edge of the bed. He walked to the door and
opened it as she moaned again, he turned and looked at
her as she started to writhe about the bed in the throes
of a nightmare and a scream of intense terror issued
from her throat. Mary was holding her shoulders to the
bed and calling her name loudly. He stepped out and
left the maid to it.