Chapter 11 #2
It was not only her blood that seemed to be throbbing in her veins now, but places deep inside her belly and between her legs. Louisa wanted the duke’s kisses just as she wanted food, water and sunlight. She needed them in some way she had never considered.
The duke’s hands caressed her as they embraced, stroking her hair, her face and her bare arms. One hand traced the shape of her waist and curve of her hip before rising and cupping her breast in his palm. Louisa cried out in pleasure rather than protest, lost in sensation.
“Your Grace,” she moaned softly, as he pushed the cap sleeve from one shoulder and kissed the bare skin he had exposed with a slightly open mouth and flickering tongue.
“Benedict,” he responded huskily, pressing more hungry kisses to the swell of her breasts above the neckline of her white silk gown. “My name is Benedict.”
“Oh Benedict,” Louisa whimpered, almost swooning now in his arms.
It was only when she felt the duke stiffen against her that Louisa’s brain belatedly registered the sound of the drawing room door opening and then the alarmed calling of her name.
“Louisa!”
Previously close to collapse with dreamy physical excitement, Louisa’s legs now almost gave way with shock as she turned her head.
There, in the doorway stood Aunt Beatrice, and her lady’s maid Elsie, her aunt’s face horrified and the maidservant’s eyes out on stalks.
Another maid entered close behind them with a pair of spectacles in her hand and stopped dead, her hand flying to her mouth.
Only the Duke of Northwick’s arms held Louisa on her feet. In her fright, she was torn between wanting to flee from him and wanting to hide her face in his chest. His hands tightened their grip on her for a moment, as though in reassurance, although surely there was none to be had now.
What on earth have I done?!
Moreover, what would happen now? Louisa had been discovered in the arms of a man by three witnesses and there was no hope of denying their passionate kisses.
Elsie was garrulous by nature and also part of a large and well-connected family of servants and shopkeepers.
Whatever strictures Aunt Beatrice might try to impose, the tale would be across the whole neighborhood within a day.
How long before it reached London? Louisa trembled afresh at this thought. The Duke of Northwick was evidently a well-known figure. Would her name be published in the press with his? She knew that would be social ruin for her, and almost as bad, a stain on Lady Esher too.
Mortified and bewildered at finding herself in such an unthinkable situation, Louisa closed her eyes and wished herself a thousand miles away. When she opened them again, her aunt had somewhat recomposed herself, her face settled into a formidable and implacable mask
"Your Grace,” Aunt Beatrice’s voice rang out with remarkable calm. “Would you like to explain to me exactly what you are doing with my niece?”
The silver-haired lady looked from Benedict to Louisa before sharply hushing and then dismissing the two maids who had begun to whisper together.
Both fell silent immediately and watched the scene with eagle eyes even as they backed out of the room and closed the door.
With their departure, the Duke of Northwick finally released Louisa from his arms.
“Lady Esher, it is not what it seems,” the duke told the mistress of the house firmly and clearly. “This has not happened before and Lady Louisa is not at fault. I would not have anyone think otherwise. If there is blame in this matter, it is mine…”
“Enough,” Louisa’s aunt returned crisply.
“It does not matter whether it was one kiss or twenty. It does not matter whether it was the first time. It does not matter who kissed whom. You and I both know the reality of this well enough, Your Grace. I would rather Louisa had not needed to learn it in so harsh a fashion.”
“Aunt Beatrice, can’t we…” Louisa tried to speak up and was quickly stopped by her aunt holding up a hand.
“Hush, child,” Lady Esher instructed, her voice softening a little, although still unwavering in its determination.
“There is nothing you can say right now, Louisa. There has been only one option for you since the moment I opened that door. The Duke of Northwick understands very well what can and cannot be done, I believe.”
“I do, Lady Esher,” he confirmed soberly.
“So, let us face facts then, Your Grace. My niece has been discovered alone, close to midnight, in a gentleman's embrace, witnessed by two servants. By sunrise, the household will be discussing nothing else, and by next week this sorry tale will be across London, embroidered beyond recognition."
Louisa's heart dropped even lower at her aunt’s confirmation of all her own worst fears. The Duke of Northwick also nodded his acceptance of what Lady Esher was saying. It seemed that neither he nor Aunt Beatrice saw a way of negotiating escape from this awful trap. What would become of her?
“Well, then, Your Grace. There is only one honorable course remaining to us, it seems. You will marry my niece."
Silence settled over the drawing room and Louisa could not hold back the loud sob that rose from her throat.
Marry the Duke of Northwick?!