Authors: Cheryl Brooks
Tags: #Romance
“Uncooperative?
Me?
I’m merely claiming ignorance!”
“Then I shall teach you, my lord,” Will said. “After all, if a man is to undress his lady, he should be able to help her put herself to rights again. Imagine what would happen if I weren’t here.”
“Ah, but you always will be, my dear William,” Rotherford said. “Always.”
“Nonetheless, you should observe closely.”
True to his word, William had her dress on and buttoned up in a trice. He even helped her to pin up her hair.
“Why, William,” Rotherford drawled. “You’re better than a lady’s maid. I had no idea you were so talented.”
“He is indeed,” Juliet said. “In so many ways.”
The tables had turned. Juliet was now fully dressed, but her men were still quite naked—and if the state of their pricks was any indication, they both enjoyed this circumstance enormously. Her gaze drifted down to Will’s stiff member, then returned to his twinkling green eyes before moving on to appreciate the viscount’s physique.
“D’you know, I believe I shall enjoy being married to you, Rotherford,” Juliet declared. “The scenery here in your home is quite…remarkable.”
The earl raised his glass. “To the bride and groom.”
And the footman.
William could scarcely believe the events of the past two days. Nick’s proposal. Juliet’s acceptance. The earl’s consent. That amazing interlude in the portrait gallery. The announcement of their engagement at dinner. The wedding planned for the following morning. And now, their vows had been said, the wedding papers signed, the wedding breakfast underway.
He’d watched as Nick and Juliet vowed to love one another, never parting until death. From his post at the rear of the church, Will had whispered the words right along with them. His name might not have been on the documents, but before God, he’d vowed the same.
Let no man put asunder…
He prayed that God was an understanding deity rather than a vengeful one. The hurt that could result from their liaison was extraordinary.
I can’t think of it that way. I must believe it will work.
It had to. William couldn’t imagine life without Nick, and he was beginning to see that without Juliet’s love, he could never continue as his master’s lover.
She has to love us both.
Unfortunately, these thoughts had come a bit late. Too late, in fact, to do anything aside from wooing Juliet as any man would a new bride whom he did not know particularly well. True, she was lovely and seemed attracted to both men in a sexual manner, but what of the other things that drew people together? What quirks might she have, and what endearing qualities? For that matter, what would she see in himself or his master?
What a chance we’ve taken!
He almost cursed Nick for being so well-prepared. This was too quick—too soon to know if she would care enough for them to keep their secret for as long as she lived. She’d promised never to betray them, but her sentiments might change with time.
Either way, it was done. There was no going back now, particularly since the marriage had already been consummated—somewhat prematurely, perhaps, but consummated just the same.
He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sight of the happy couple. If only he could keep from hearing the congratulatory speeches and the well-wishes of guests who had come to a simple house party only to wind up being witnesses to a marriage.
Opening his eyes, his gaze landed on Juliet. She was beautiful, smiling, and radiant. She’d worn the gown of blue satin—one he’d chosen because its color matched her eyes.
Oh, Juliet…What a terrible fate awaits me if you fail to love me.
She’d understood, though—or had seemed to.
Still, being the one not included in the ceremony made William uneasy. How simple it would be for Nick to send him packing now that he was wed. Lost in newly married bliss, would he forget the love the two men had shared? He wanted to be happy for them—and for himself—but there was that niggling little fear…
He looked up just as Juliet’s eyes seemed to search the chapel, smiling when her gaze landed on him. Her smile seemed intended specifically for him, and the tingling in his cheeks warned him of a blush. He’d suckled that woman’s soft tits and fucked her luscious bottom.
Oh, my lady…What have we done?
If she’d been a tavern wench or a ploughman’s daughter, he could’ve reconciled these feelings, but that was part of the problem. Juliet was a
lady
.
True, there’d been a certain eroticism in making love with a woman not of his class, and he had no doubt that he would continue to feel that way, at least, for a time. Perhaps she felt the same, but what would happen when the novelty wore off? Events that occurred in the heat of the moment were often later regretted.
William sincerely hoped he wasn’t one of them.
* * * *
As their guests drank a toast wishing them a long and happy union, Rotherford kissed his bride with all the passion of a man in love. Unfortunately, his other lover was busy pouring tea for Lady Spencer.
He despised the society that prevented William from joining them at the altar, even as his best man. He knew Will understood—one could only flout convention so far without suffering the consequences—yet he felt markedly remiss. He was in the process of trying to imagine how to make it up to him, when the perfect solution struck him.
We’ll have another ceremony.
In his chambers, in his bed…Then again, considering the tryst in the gallery, perhaps they already had performed the necessary rites.
“Your thoughts, my lord?” Juliet whispered as their guests resumed their seats following the toast.
“I believe you can guess them.”
She nodded. “One of us is absent. He cannot be enjoying the party, can he?”
“One never knows with him. His happiness often depends upon factors that would not please the average man.” Nick’s gaze slid past Juliet to assure himself that her parents, seated to her left, weren’t privy to their conversation. “Still, it concerns me.”
Her lips curved into a smile that would’ve captured the fancy of a sterner man than Nick could ever claim to be. “Perhaps we should do something special for him.” She leaned closer. “
Tonight
.”
“Oh, really? What do you suggest?”
She chuckled. “That we discuss the details later—in
private
.”
He took her hand, kissing it with a flourish. “My dear Lady Rotherford—the name has a nice ring to it, does it not?—you are truly a woman beyond price.”
“You flatter me, my lord. I am simply considering the delicate ears that might be listening. After all, I wouldn’t want to shock anyone.”
“I believe we’ve already done that,” he said with a trace of chagrin. “What with the hasty marriage and all. Can you imagine what they might be thinking?”
“The usual things one thinks of in situations such as this—unless one of your ancestors reported the events they witnessed yesterday, which seems highly unlikely.”
“I concur. Nor would any of our guests have remained if they’d known the truth.” He studied her carefully. “Still, I cannot think that the
real
truth would shock anyone.”
Her eyes widened. “The
real
truth? Whatever do you mean?”
“That I fell in love with you on sight. That your beauty has made a romantic fool of me. That I’ve been writing sonnets to your eyes ever since our first meeting. That I have been—”
She gave his arm a playful slap. “Enough of such flattery, or you will put me to the blush.”
“Ah, but your blushes are
so
delightful.”
“As are yours.” Her innocent expression contrasted sharply with the meaningful squeeze she gave his thigh beneath the table. “I have one suggestion in particular that might incite a blush from which you may never recover.”
“You intrigue me. Pray continue.”
“I am thinking that we might indulge in a
sandwich
later.” She paused, frowning. “And though the two slices of bread are a given, I am a loss as to what should be between them—or should I say what
will
be between them.”
“Oh,
my
…”
“I take it you approve?”
“Absolutely.”
Our dear William may never be the same.
* * * *
Juliet couldn’t help but wonder at the leaps her imagination had taken since that picnic on the riverbank. Rotherford had already referred to her as an enchanting trollop. Would he continue to see her as such, or would he be repulsed by the wanton turn her mind had taken?
Then again, he hadn’t complained.
Ah, well…if a man didn’t want a woman to behave in such a fashion, he shouldn’t allow her to witness him making love to another man.
Glancing up, she caught William’s eye. He was by her side in an instant. “My lady?”
“I should like another pot of tea,” she said. “Champagne for breakfast doesn’t suit my constitution.”
“As you wish.”
She drew in a breath, wishing every person in the room would vanish, save for herself and the pair of men she had taken as lovers. “I also prefer a quieter atmosphere.”
Tears dampened the corners of her eyes as William nodded his understanding. She longed for a time when she could enjoy breakfast on the terrace with no one but Nick and Will. Far from her father’s censorious tongue, perhaps never to hear an unkind word spoken to her again. To truly know peace…
The earl had been engaged in conversation with Lord Brough, but now snapped at William. “More wine, boy, and be quick about it!”
Startled, Juliet barely managed to stifle a gasp. What a detestable man her father was! Having been treated in a similar manner for most of her life, she’d always felt compassion for the servant class. She longed to take the earl to task for his rudeness, or at the very least give William’s hand a commiserating squeeze.
Almost as though he’d read her thoughts, Rotherford got to his feet. “Since my footman is already engaged in serving my wife, you must allow me, my lord.”
Crossing to the sideboard, he selected a fresh bottle of champagne. He appeared to know what he was about, removing the foil, untwisting the wire cage. However, he didn’t hold the cork steady and twist the bottle, as Juliet had seen footmen do at least a hundred times, but thumbed off the cork. With a loud pop, champagne erupted from the bottle, dousing the earl as the flying cork grazed the top of his head.
“Do forgive me, Clarenhurst,” Rotherford murmured as he filled the sputtering earl’s glass. “A fine thing for a new son-in-law to do to his wife’s noble parent.”
Juliet didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or feign concern, but Rotherford had climbed yet another notch in her esteem. Perhaps two or three. As he handed her father a napkin, her admiring gaze caught his barely perceptible wink. No, he wasn’t one to be bullied, and anyone who bullied those he loved did so at their peril—even if said bully happened to be an earl.
Later that evening, her husband would receive extra kisses—or whatever reward he might choose—and she would make her apologies to William on her father’s behalf. And then there was that special treat to recompense Will for not being part of the wedding ceremony.
Much more of this and I shall have to write out a list.
But, of course, a list might be discovered, and discovery was to be avoided at all costs. Once again, Juliet knew the delight of a sharing a private joke. Nevertheless, she was bursting with excitement as her wedding night drew near.
Several of Rotherford’s guests took the wedding as their cue to depart, no doubt understanding the bride and groom’s desire for privacy. Unfortunately, Juliet’s parents weren’t among them. She almost wished a wedding journey had been planned—or that she had been married from Clarenhurst Hall rather than Rotherford’s estate, which would’ve given them an excuse to leave. Instead, the earl would be the one to decide when the party was over.
Later that same afternoon, while her parents and several other guests played a game of whist, she and Rotherford engaged in a game of billiards. Juliet was about to be soundly trounced by her new husband when William entered, seeking a private word with his master.
“Really?” the viscount remarked upon hearing William’s whispered message. “Hopefully the rash will prove to be nothing serious. Still, you know how upset people tend to get over such things. Best to summon Dr. Rush.”
Lord Brough looked up from his cards. “A rash, did you say?”
Rotherford nodded. “The young son of one of my tenants has developed spots. Most likely it is simply a case of the measles or the chicken pox, but his grandmother will have it that the child suffers from smallpox.” He glanced at William. “Have you heard of any other cases in the vicinity?”
“None, my lord,” William replied. “Perhaps this is the first.”
Cards went flying as Juliet’s mother leaped to her feet. “We must leave at once!” She turned to Juliet. “And you should, too, my dear. Perhaps a wedding trip to Brighton is in order.”