Page 34 of A Tale of Two Dukes

“I will not allow you to release,” he growls, easing a finger inside. “Not yet, anyway. Though harsh, I do mean what I say.” With a groan, he slides in deeper. “Your pleasure, your orgasms, your release, your rapture, and your entire being, is mine.” My breath stills as his finger goes even deeper still, grazing my insides before he curls it.

Biting down on my lower lip, I stifle a moan. Just him teasing me sets my body aflame. Though I crave the stretch of his knot, his shallow thrusts send my insides coiling, my body primed for release. He remains perched on the chair next to me, looking every inch the proper gentleman while he strips my soul bare.

None of that, however, compares to those filthy words dripping from his lips. Gripping the seat, I rock my hips back and forth, desperate for the pleasure I know is sure to come. But every time I inch forward, doing my best to impale myself on him, he dances away, keeping me just on the edge of release.

We play this game for what feels like an eternity, until the carriage jerks to a halt, ending our foray. A soft whine claws at my throat as he pulls his hand away and licks his fingertips, winking at me before opening the door. In a rush, I throw my skirts back down, not wanting anyone to see how disheveled I am.

No doubt, all they have to do is see my face to know the truth. But then, does it all really matter? No longer am I Catherine Giles, daughter of an earl. I’m Kitty Bartlett, whore, courtesan, adventuress. I need not care what others think, only what my master and owner thinks.

Taking his arm, I walk into the grand building, doing my best not to tug at the heavy dress adorning my skin. Though grand, it’s not fitted to me, a constant reminder that my visit to the modiste never happened on the account of being accosted by Mr. Beaumont. Hopefully, now that he’s urged my silence, I’ll no longer see him.

“Stop fidgeting, love. You look resplendent.”

“Yes,” I whisper back. “In another harlot's clothes.” As the words leave my lips, my hand flies to cover my mouth. “I’m sorry. That was impertinent. I-.”

Shaking his head, he laughs, drawing attention from those around us. “Say what you wish. I will not hold you accountable for your words. Not when you speak the truth. Yes, they did belong to another. But not a harlot as you may think.”

Puzzled, I look down at the lavish garment, the dark red reminiscent of the dress he deflowered me in. “Then who?”

“My sister looks to be about the same size as you. Thankfully, I was correct. These are dresses she no longer wishes to wear. And so, I figured they’d be far more acceptable than another lover’s castoffs. Don’t you agree?”

Looking down at the floor, shame floods my face. I was too hasty to draw conclusions. Unfortunately, all this does is endear him to me even more. “I appreciate your concern in regard to my wardrobe. They will certainly be more than sufficient until I’m able to see the modiste.”

With a nod, we walk amongst the others, their curious eyes boring into me. My heart leaps into my throat with each passing second. Women look at me with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance while the men look upon me with lust gleaming in their eyes. If I were still Catherine, I suppose I wouldn’t receive either of these looks.

As it is, they all must know who I am and why I’m here. Fluttering the fan over the swell of my breasts, I do my best to shut them out as Birchleigh leads us to our seats. In the theatre box, I can finally breathe and relax. True, others still glance over, their opera glasses trained on us until the actors take the stage.

Since my betrothal had been secured, there was no need to parade about with my fiancé. I never had the opportunity to visit a theatre or opera, and so, for this, I’m grateful for my fall from grace. Tears prick my eyes as the beautiful music washes over me.

I’m so overwhelmed with the show, that I no longer notice the curious eyes on me. Instead, I’m enraptured, transported. Granted, it’s not nearly as fulfilling as when Birchleigh pleasures me, but it’s a close second.

During intermission, however, Birchleigh murmurs his apology and slips out, leaving me alone with all eyes boring into me. To distract myself, I busy my fingers with the brocade on my dress, making a grand show of inspecting my gown for wrinkles. Soon, he’s back, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

That is until the stench of damp, mildewy water accosts my nose. Not Birchleigh at all. Instead, it’s Mr. Beaumont’s scent which accosts me. Why is he here? What else could he possibly say to me, do to me? I look up, noting his smirk of amusement.

“Quite bold of you to be out and about. I thought I saw you up here, but told myself, no. That can’t be her. Surely a daughter running away from her family wouldn’t be stupid enough to allow others to see her. But then, here you are, standing out for all to ogle.”

Swallowing, I look back out into the crowd. So far, no one seems to know me. At least, I don’t recognize them. That has to account for something. Still though, his words alone are enough to make my skin crawl.

“Ahhh. I see you are without adornments. For all he boasts of his new title, the Duke doesn’t seem to be keen on dressing you properly. Here. Allow me to remedy this.”

Before I can refuse his offer, he slides up behind me, making a grand show of pulling my sister’s necklace from his pocket. Part of me is grateful to have the trinket back in the family and out of his grasp. But what will these other people think?

A necklace from a man could be tantamount to an affair, and yet, I cannot tell them it belongs to my sister. That would create far more questions than I am allowed to answer. Apprehension gnaws at my insides.

Birchleigh already doubts my fidelity. This is bound to make that so much worse. “Your actions are improper,” I implore, easing away from him.

Perhaps if I make a show of rejecting his overture, it will look better for me in the long run. My actions do not deter him. If anything, he inches in close, smearing his scent across my body. “If you please, I can put it on myself,” I beg in an attempt to make him see reason.

“Nonsense. Can’t chance anything happening to so priceless a piece.” He fastens it around my neck, grazing the chain.

I shudder at his touch, my stomach churning. There’s a violence there, hidden just below the surface. The tremor in his hands as he grips my shoulders brings terror back to the surface.

“Did my brother ever grace you with baubles? Did he promise you money? Pray tell me why you wished your betrothed dead. Or were you waiting for someone stronger, smarter, someone who could be your conniving match?”

“But I-” He grips my shoulders harder this time, his actions choking my response.

“I wouldn’t want you to lie and force me to hurt you. This is what you’re going to do. Since you’re so good at sneaking about, you’re going to tell me everything that’s transpired between you and the duke. I know he’s the one who set everything in motion, but he obviously had help. Some little songbird to sing to him of secrets he could have never known otherwise.”