The Duke and The Governess (2 page)

‘Why did we have to come?’ She asked Abigail, softly. ‘
Why d
o we
just sit here and wait to be
asked to dance?
’

‘Because this is the way it’s done.’ Abigail replied firmly, looking over the top of her spectacles
and smoothing the skirts of her teal gown
. ‘We all arrive, get given a glass of punch, sat in a line and told to sit and wait.’ She explained again.

‘It makes me feel like a dog!’ Jessica said forcefully.

‘That’s exactly right!’ Cecily muttered under her breath. ‘That’s exactly what they’re looking for.’ She nodded her head towards the indolent men spread around the ballroom. ‘Their idea of a wife is a good little obedient dog!’
She giggled as if she’d said something hilarious.
Both Abigail and Jessica sat with open mouths, looking at their sister.
‘What?’ She pouted
indignantly. ‘It’s the truth.’
She shuffled in her chair and smoothed her rose gown.

‘I know.’ Abigail said softly. ‘It’s just that I’ve never heard you be so scathing about it before.’

‘Well, this is my third season you know. And I’m not quite the soppy miss everybody thinks I am.’ Cecily spat.

‘Obviously!’ Abigail said, astonished. Then she leaned across and whispered in Cecily’s ear.  ‘But I would be grateful if you don’t spoil Jessie’s first ball.’

‘Oh! She won’t spoil it for me.’ Jessica said confidently. ‘I appreciate her honesty.’

~*~*~*~

John Farrington arrived with his mother and sister and sauntered into the ballroom.
The finest silk britches hugged his thighs, above his sheer silk stockings and highly polished dancing slippers. The finest lawn shirt sported a silk cravat elaborately tied about his throat. His
tailed evening coat
was of the blackest velvet that
hugged his broad shoulders closely
and was cut away to reveal an ivory brocade waistcoat over his flat belly
.
Altogether he was a fine figure of a man
with his dark, almost black wavy hair and bright cerulean blue eyes in a very handsome face, setting the women aflutter at his arrival
.
He assisted his mother and sister to the debutante’s area,
as this was Verity’s first season,
where all the pretty girls sat in their pristine white muslin dresses
, over protected by their mamas, waiting for a brave man to ask them to dance. John scurried over to the drinks room and guzzled down his first glass of claret.

‘Your Grace.’ The Duchess of Norfolk said brightly. ‘I didn’t realise you had arrived?’

John bent over her hand. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ He replied gallantly.

‘Well, just be sure to dance at least once.’ She said coyly as she wafted her fan and walked away.

‘I shall endeavour to oblige you.’ He murmured.

‘And just who are you going to dance with?’ Lady Ariadne Constantine asked vehemently, her smile brittle.

‘Hello Ariadne.’ John said calmly. They had been lovers for a few months, but he’d finished it a couple of weeks previously, as her demands became intolerable. He had gifted her a stunning ruby necklace as a sign of his gratitude. She wore it now, draped about her décolletage, highlighting the scandalously low cut of her gown and the colour drawing the eye irresistibly to the dark crescents of her aureoles just visible in the cream lace of her neckline.

John looked his fill of her spectacular breasts so alluringly displayed. He took a nonchalant sip of his claret. ‘You really should pay Madame Jobert’s bill.’ He said evenly. ‘It must be chilly in a half finished gown!’ He turned and sauntered away to the card room, hearing her spluttering exclamation behind him. He didn’t actually care if she walked naked through the ballroom, but he needed to drive the point home that it was over.

He played a few hands of Faro, but he could tell it wasn’t his night when he lost the first hand. He wandered the salons and found the business men in deep discussions over the state of merchant shipping and how they hoped it would improve now Nelson had finally drubbed the French at Trafalgar. Debate was spirited and John joined in, lending his opinion and arguing the Lord’s position on the war.

‘John Farrington! What the devil are you doing here?’ John turned at the scathing tone to see his old friend Wilbur Gordon offering his hand. ‘Mr. Gordon. I’m delighted to see you. Are your family here?’

‘They are, they are!’ he said blithely. ‘I heard they’d made you a Duke?’

‘Yes, I inherited the title from my uncle. He died ove
r a year ago and I’ve been very busy attending to the estates.’ He shook his head sadly, ‘they were in
an
appalling state of neglect. I needed to oversee new plantings and purchase new stock.’ He shook his head again. ‘It was a veritable mess.’ He smiled brightly at his friend. ‘But less about me, how are you faring?’

‘Couldn’t be better.’ Wilbur Gordon said and smiled with pride. ‘Two daughters married, both sons through Cambridge and now we only have to get the last three girls married and we can have a quiet retirement!’

‘Are your girls here?’ John asked and took another sip of his claret.

‘They are indeed.’ He beckoned John to follow him out to the ballroom. ‘There they are.’ He said as proud as any father, pointing at three pretty girls. ‘The one in blue is Abigail, the one in pink is Cecily and my little Jessica is making her debut tonight.’

John almost choked on his wine as he looked at the veritable beauty in the white silk gown. ‘That’s little Jessica?’ He asked in astonishment.  Where was the little harridan
, with the wild dark hair,
he’d seen running around the warehouse when she was a child? Could this Aphrodite possibly be the same girl that kicked him in the shin one day, when she thought he was an intruder? He smiled as he remembered the fire in her eyes as he held her at arms length and Wilbur Gordon
’s
excessive apologies as he came across the tableau
. His smile turned to a grin as he recalled the contrite curtsey she bobbed at her father
’s
insistence of an apology. He also recalled the spike of lust he’d felt when she stuck her tongue out at him as her father turned away.

‘That’s my Jessica. Apple of my eye.’ Wilbur Gordon murmured with pride.

‘May I ask her to dance?’ John Farrington asked softly, mindful of the men around them.

‘You may.’ Gordon said firmly and sauntered away to the drinks room. John stood there and drank in every aspect of the delicious Jessica. Her gown was exquisitely cut, to display her charms without being blatant like Ariadne Constantine. As he watched her sister take a hand and go to dance, he saw her shoulders droop for just a second or two, before they rose again in hope that somebody would ask her to dance.

~*~*~*~

Jessica
had sat there for most of the night. Both Abigail and Cecily had one
dance, but
Jessica had resigned herself to not dancing at all when a tall, dark, handsome man had suddenly appeared in front of her with his hand out.

‘Miss Jessica? Will you do me the honour?’ he asked and her eyes travelled up from
his excessively shiny dancing slippers
, past his elegant britches and his black velvet evening jacket, over his snowy cravat to the bluest eyes in the most handsome face she’d ever seen.

‘It would be my pleasure.’ She muttered demurely as a faint blush tinted her cheeks
with
a rosy hue. She gently placed her hand in his and was assisted to the dance floor.

‘Is that
Warwick
dancing with Jessie?’ Her
mother
asked softly and her
father turned to smile happily. He nodded his
head and
they
watched
t
he
i
r youngest daughter steered through the steps of a Scottish Reel
. She was positively glowing in
her pure white debutante’s gown
.

Jessica was quiet. The Duke of
Warwick
looked down a
t the beautiful girl in his hands
and debated whether
to broach
their past acquaintance.  He cleared his throat softly. ‘I doubt that you remember me, but we have met before.’ He said carefully.
His partner looked up suddenly and smiled softly
as she shook her head.

‘I’m sorry to ask this, but what is your name?’ Jessica asked coyly. ‘I’m dancing with a complete stranger.’
He was astonished at this and was toying with telling her of their encounter in the warehouse when she was young, but decided to feign ignorance instead.

‘Is this your first ball?’ He asked in amazement.

‘It is, otherwise I would know who you are?’

‘I would have expected your sister’s to point out the most eligible beau’s
.
’ He muttered.

‘Oh! No, Sir!’ she said firmly and her smile widened. ‘No woman on the hunt for a husband would deign to tell an ingénue like me who is who. I might steal the prize!’

He laughed heartily at her honesty. ‘That must be quite disconcerting!’

‘It is a little unsettling, because every man attending this ball is a stranger, except my father and two brothers.’

‘Do you know the rules?’ he asked with a peculiar light in his eyes.
She didn’t know he was wondering what she would look like out of her chaste debutante’s gown.

‘Yes, Sir. My sister’s have made it abundantly clear never to be in a closed room alone with a
gentle
man and never let him take any liberties!’ She replied haughtily, making the Duke laugh even more.

‘Your
sister’s sound very wise.’ He said and took a great deal of delight in her smile. She had a kind, open expression
on her oval face and her blue eyes sparkled at the banter
. Her complete innocence shone through her like a light and it made him feel sad that some man would take that innocence and either crush it under his boot or pervert it into something sordid and painful.

‘You still haven’t told me your name, Sir.’ She murmured.
‘Do you not wish to tell me
? Is it a black name?’ H
e watched the light of humour dance in her eyes
and vividly recalled the precocious ten year old that stuck her tongue out at him
.
‘Are you a pirate or something?’ He looked down at her mouth as her tongue stole out to wet her lips and jerked his eyes back up to hers to see her eyebrows raised in query. His manhood jerked awake with a hot spike of lust, just like the last time he’d seen her tongue. He had to clear his throat.

‘I have a very old and honourable name. It is John Farrington, Miss Jessica and I have known your father for many years.’

‘Then I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Farrington.’
She smiled brightly and he almost moaned at the ache in his groin.

When the dance was over, he escorted Jessica back to her sisters, bowed and took his leave.
Damn me! It’ll be dangerous to dance with her a second time.
  He berated himself as he threw his first brandy of the night down his throat.

‘Who was that chit you were dancing with?’ Ariadne whispered in his ear like a spider. ‘I’ve a mind to claw her eyes out!’

‘Jealousy doesn’t become you, my dear.’ John said coldly and he turned a frigid stare on her. ‘Our dalliance is at an end, so whom ever I dance with is none of your concern, just as your dance partners are none of mine.’ He nodded curtly. ‘Excuse me.’ And he left her standing in the drinks room with her mouth open in shock.
How long is it going to take for her to realise it’s over?
He asked himself as he sauntered into the card room again. This time he play
ed
hazard and won. But still he fidgeted with the erection in his britches and he didn’t know he was going to dance with her again until he was stood over her with his hand out.

~*~*~*~

Jessica had sat down with her sisters, but neither of them seemed interested in the man she’s been dancing with. She sat a stared at the floor and thought about John Farrington and how handsome he was.
He danced well too
. She thought. She accepted another two offers to dance, one was a
cotillion
and the other was an allemande.

Within
an ho
ur he was back for another dance
.
This time it was a stately pavane. He and
Jessica
stepped
a
round the dance floor like
expert
s, neither of them realising just how they fitted together
and she laughed with him as they conversed. At the end of the dance, he asked if she would like to get some air.

As they stepped out of the door, he smiled and placed her hand on his arm. ‘How long have you been in London?’ He asked softly and steered her to the balustrade.
Leaning his elbow on the stonework, h
e looked down on that
exceptionally pretty
face and wondered whether she would be able to fill his nursery, as his mother was demanding.