A Bride for Lord Esher (3 page)

“Yes, sir.”

Lord Robert turned to Chastity and held the door open. Covered only in the sheet from the bed, he was indifferent to her nakedness before a servant. “Get up and go with Yates, girl. He will make things right for you.”

Ever so slowly, Chastity rose. She continued to weep as she stepped into the corridor and the bedroom door closed upon her.

Tom Warren stood in the front pew, waiting with the groom, or more accurately holding him upright. Lord Peter Ashworth had never been a good drinking companion, and last night proved to be one of his weakest escapades yet. The footman had tipped him off that his master had vomited at least three times that morning, no doubt due to some bad barrel in the innkeepers stock. Both of his companio
ns had suffered more than usual, though at least with Lord Esher he had had a little more sport. Ashworth was proving to be a liability. Still, he did his duty, and by the time the blushing bride sauntered down the aisle, his friend had been sober enough to spit out the appropriate “I do’s,” in all the right places. The deed was done, the register signed, another good man down.

Tom watched as the bride and groom retreated down the aisle. He was thankful that fashion demanded tighter skirts and shorter veils than in his mother’s day or the lucky lady may not have escaped the church with her wedding gown intact.

At the back of the church in the last pew he spied his friend, Lord Esher, who clearly had arrived late for he had not taken his place of honor in the front pews.

“Ah, dear friend, I see you’ve weathered the evening in better shape than our unfortunate companion.” It was then he noticed the black scowl on Lord Esher’s face.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true, dear boy?”

“Did I marry the tavern slut?”

On account of his duties as participant in the morning’s activities, Tom had not had a chance to indulge in snuff that morning. His duties now complete, he took the moment to indulge before he responded. “Ah. Well, yes I’m rather afraid you did. It was a beautiful affair, there were tears, I could hardly contain myself. It was all so touching.”

“Are you insane?”

Tom looked quite affronted, as if he were the wounded party and not his friend.

“Really, a wager is a wager. I wanted to make sure you didn’t dishonor yourself. And when all is said and done, I‘ve relieved you of a tediousness societal wedding. You’ll be much better off with this bar wench, trust me. One day you will thank me.”

Amazed beyond measure, Lord Robert looked like he could barely keep himself from punching his friend in the church. Instead he bit his lip and looked about for the parson. The fat little man had stepped away immediately following the ceremony.

“I shall deal with you later,” he growled.

“I think you’ll find the parson is running amok in the sacristy. Come, I know the man, his name is
Able Matthews.
Let’s go find him together.”

Tom Warren put his hand on his friend’s back and nudged him back down the aisle and behind the altar. They found the vicar removing his vestments, and when the older man saw the two men approaching, he greeted them both with a warm smile.

“Ah, back again? I must say I’m surprised to see you so soon after
your
service. The Lady is a very pretty bride, very pretty indeed, but I’m pleased to see you nevertheless. What can I do for you?”

Lord Esher wiped his sweaty palm on his cream breeches. Tom Warren played idly with the silk sleeves of his shirt, pulling them out as if something about the puff didn’t quite suit him. He sniffed at the stale air, and his nose twisted in disdain at the scent of old candlewicks and ancient stone.

“I want to see the record of my marriage. I fear a joke has been played, and I would undo the sad affair this morning.”

Able Matthew’s eyes narrowed and he stared hard at Lord Esher. “Undo it? I don’t think I understand. You say there’s been a mistake?”

“Yes. I wasn’t quite in my right mind last night, well, truth be told I was the worse for drink.”

“Funny, you seemed perfectly sober compared to your friend who I just married. Now that boy
had
been drinking. I’m rather afraid
you
seemed perfectly coherent to me.”

“Damn it, man, I don’t even know the woman.”

The man of God frowned at the profanity and held his finger to his lips as if to hush them all. “And yet again you seemed quite intimate with her at the time. I confess I thought it strange, such a mad rush, but Tom here explained you got the girl in the family way, and, well… such a generous donation to the poor fund, I could hardly refuse.”

“Show me the damned parish registry.”

Able Matthew’s flinched again, and shaking, picked up the book. Tom looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was Esher’s signature, albeit the entry had been made by a very shaky hand.

“Well in any case, the marriage was never consummated, so all’s well, no harm done.”

Behind them a small foot stomped on the stone floor, causing the chamber to echo. “That is a lie!” the female voice cried.

They all turned to see Chastity Esher standing at the arch entry to the sacristy. Her face was a blaze of fury, and she looked like the demons of hell were ready to spew out from those angelic lips.

The house had dressed her well and she wore a fine garment of green velvet. Her hair had been properly, if simply, dressed and was secured under a black un-frilled bonnet. “I swear before Almighty God that I have lain with my husband, and he with me, so that I am no longer a maid!”

“Hold your tongue, woman,” hissed Robert.

“I will not. You are not speaking the truth, and though you may be my one day Lord and Master, I shall not be silent. Nor will I perjure myself in this house of God.”

Tom smirked, a little awed and a great deal amused by this sudden outbreak.

“Young woman, it is not seemly to contradict your husband so in public,” said the preacher. “You should be ashamed of yourself.’

“Ah, but you own that he is my husband!”

The parson bowed his head reverently. “I do.”

“Good.”

And with that, the newly made Lady Chastity Esher held her head high in the air, turned and stormed out of the church. The three men stood dumbfounded, watching her bonnet and backside sway as she walked out into the open air. Of all three men, only Tom smiled. He had chosen a formidable companion for his friend, and he was anxious to see how this drama would play out.

Robert Esher jumped down from his saddle and dashed into his manor. Hearing his master’s feet dash across the gravel, a footman stepped forward to take his riding gloves. Angered by the mornings events, Robert pushed the man away and dashed straight up the stairs to his bed chamber. He expected to find Chastity there, but she was not in his room as he had hoped.

“Where the blaze is she!” he roared.

“My Lord?” Yates stood in the doorway, ready to provide whatever service his master required.

“Damn it, Yates, my
wife
… Chastity.” The word hissed from his tongue like a viper’s warning. “Has she returned from church?”

“No, sir, we haven’t seen her since she went out. Is something wrong?”

“Of course you blithering idiot. Have her found at once, and Yates, have some ham and brandy sent up immediately.”

It was about an hour later when Chastity sauntered into the Manor, and though he heard her enter, it was a few minutes before she came upstairs. She stood in the doorway. The fresh breeze outside had put some glorious color in her cheeks and she looked instantly transformed. Gone was the shy but competent tavern wench and in her place there stood a formidable lady with a fire in her belly and steel in her eyes. Lord Esher didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her, ravish her, or thrash her to kingdom come. One thing he was totally sure of, wife or no, he was the master in this house.

He had arrived in such a hurry that he had brought his riding things to the bedroom. And as her Lord and Master, he was well within his rights to beat her. He would repay her for the humiliation he had suffered in the church. He picked up his riding crop and eyed her coldly. The triumphant smile left her lips.

“Close the door.”

Chastity turned and closed the door as commanded.

“You are my wife and I expect obedience. What do you have to say for yourself and that debacle in the church?”

Again, that blaze in her eye. “I told the truth, that is all.”

“I told you to eat something then return home. You will obey me in all things, or I shall have you put in a nunnery and you can spend eternity thinking on the duty due a husband!”

Chastity looked down at the floor. Robert could not tell if she were penitent or petulant. “Get down on your knees wife. I see I shall have to instruct you in the art of obedience.”

Without another word, Chastity slipped down to the floor and waited to hear her master’s bidding. The fire in her was subdued, which pleased him, but he was a long way from taming her yet.

“Take off your gloves.”

Ever so slowly and deliberately, Chastity removed the leather gloves from her fingers. She crumpled them in her hands, and then let them drop casually to the floor. She looked up at Robert, and then at the riding crop. Her eyes betrayed her fear.

“Put out your hands, palm up.’’

Chastity had been beaten before, so she was no stranger to pain on her backside and arms, but her palms had never been flogged before. As the crop came down she flinched and closed her eyes tightly, but the whip never connected with her hand.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Lord Robert stood looking at her in a strange way, and the crop hung loosely by her side. “Do you think I am a monster that I would do such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I am a young man used to getting my own way. You are my wife, bound to pleasure me any way I choose. But I am not a thug. But you should be punished for your disobedience.”

Robert turned away and frowned. He put his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes in frustration. This beast was not him; this was not how he was. But he felt like a caged animal, the trick played on him was more than a joke, it was an attack. He wanted to lash out at all parties involved. But deep in his heart he knew this girl was as much a victim as he, and he tossed the crop down on the bed.

“Can I help you, sir?” said Chastity.

The corner of Robert’s lip turned up just a fraction. He was young and virile, and with his wife on her knees it wasn’t hard to think of something.

“Let’s see what pleasure lies in those ruby-red lips of yours.”

Lord Robert unbuckled the top of his breeches, and his manhood sprung urgent and free from restraint. Her bonnet still on her head, he pulled her onto him, and coaxed her head along his shaft, closing his eyes at the raw pleasure of her wet lips on his sensitive member. His climax building urgently, he crushed the back of the bonnet as he guided her along him, pressing as deep as he could, hindered only by the roof of her mouth. At the point of release he tightly squeezed the sides of Chastity’s head so she couldn’t pull away, and somewhere in the erotic fog of his mind he sensed she was sucking harder, as if she wanted to give him pleasure.
Could it be so
? Robert wondered.

When he had taken his pleasure of her, he put himself away and sat thoughtfully in the corner of the room. She was beautiful, that was true, and something about her manner pleased him immensely. But a man of his rank was supposed to choose a wife of standing. He had responsibilities, investments, tenants to consider. No, this marriage would not answer.
So, the church will not undo what has been done to us. I shall have to find another way.

Chastity stood in front of the mirror and admired her new gown. She smoothed the front of her bodice and played with the collar at her neck. She had to admit, her new husband had some very peculiar quirks but he was very generous with her clothes allowance. She intended to make the most of it, and something new was arriving from her tailor almost every week. This particular outfit was made in the French style, very popular at Marie Antoinette’s court, and she absolutely loved it. But if she loved the dress, she was in raptures over the powdered wig that came with it.

“Not as tall or elaborate perhaps, as some of the more recent styles,” said her ladies’ maid, “but I hear it’s all the rage with the Duchess of Devonshire. It suits you very well, My Lady. You look quite the beauty.”

“Thank you, Bradley, this is perfect.”

As Chastity turned from side to side to admire herself, the door to her chamber burst open, and Lord Esher stormed in. “Leave us.” Bradley bowed her head, and made a quick exit. It appeared she knew better than to tarry when her master was in such a mood.

“Are you ready, yet? The carriage is outside and I will not be late.”

Chastity stood a little taller, hoping he would make some comment about her finery, but her husband remained mute. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, impatient for them both to leave. It wasn’t good enough, she had m
ade a great effort here and she would be noticed.

“What do you think, husband, have I spent your money well?” Chastity raised her hands and turned a full circle.

Robert winced every time she addressed him thus, but there was no time to banter today, they were expected at court. “Yes, yes, you look well enough. Come, I will not be tardy. If you’re not ready now I shall bloody-well leave without you.”

Chastity frowned but followed her husband obediently out into the hallway. Generally her husband preferred to wear his hair plain, but in honor of the occasion he had also donned a wig and wore his finest clothes. They had been summoned to court along with many such nobles by King George III to honor of the recent birth of the new son of the Duke of Devonshire.

“Remember, the child will be called William Cavendish, the Marquis of Hartington. It seems the family has chosen to privately call him Hart. Apparently they think such a grandiose title is too much for such a small thing.”