The Duke and The Governess (7 page)

‘Jessica?’ her father said at the door and she turned a frigid expression on him.

‘Goodbye, Mr. Gordon
.’ And then
she
looked straight ahead. She sat rigid with her hands folded in her lap
as a footman closed the door and the carriage pulled away.
Wilbur Gordon was shocked that his beloved Jessica would speak so and he suddenly had a doubt that he had made the right decision.
Was she soiled?
He asked himself again.
She doesn’t act like it.
He had acted in panic, instead of deliberation. As a businessman he should have known better, panicky decisions always were more expensive.
He shook his head and watched her carria
ge vanish into the city streets, not realising that this was the costliest mistake of his life, because he would never see his favourite daughter again.

Jessica sat with her spine like a ram-rod
as the tears poured down her face. Anthony was just going to pat her hand as a comfort, but she jerked her hands away from him and shuffled across the seat to distance herself. Slowly she got to grips with her emotions and decided there and then that they were the last tears she would ever shed for her family or herself.
Crying didn’t get you what you wanted and only caused more trouble.

The c
oach
journey was difficult and long
from London and Anthony secured rooms for them at a couple of inns along the way. On the first night, at dinner, Anthony tried to be jovial, but he was wasting his time.

‘I understand.’ He said softly. ‘It must be very difficult to accept that your husband has gone to war.’
His hazel eyes softened with compassion.

‘What is difficult to accept is that your brother agreed to marry me when he doesn’t even know me.’ Jessica said firmly. ‘And please don’t give me that rubbish that’s been bantered about by the gossips. Your brother was in the garden with Lady Saddleworth, not me!’ she said harshly, ‘and it was very badly done by him to involve me in his amorous affair!’

‘Do you mean to tell me that he didn’t have you in Devon’s garden?’ Anthony asked in astonishment.

‘He did not. I was saddened by some terrible news and had retreated to the garden for a weep and I happened to see Lady Saddleworth come out of the bushes, followed not two minutes later
by your brother and the next t
hing I know it’s me with my skirt around my waist!’
Jessica said in disgust. ‘I would hope to have a little
more decorum than to find myself in such a position
.’

‘My father is not going to be pleas
ed about this. I wondered why David
was in such a hurry to get away from the church.’ He smiled gently. ‘Now I understand. He didn’t want to consummate the marriage just in case he wants to have it annulled.’

‘I agree with you. He seems intent on saving his own skin at the expense of other people. I’m actually quite glad, because your father might be prevailed upon to dissolve the marriage if I try hard enough.’

‘Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t. He’ll only do that if David requests it and I don’t think he will while he’s in Portugal.’

‘What’s your father like?’ Jessica asked.

‘
I would
never have described him
as
a very fair and upright man and
seeing the underhand way you have been
treated; my assessment hasn’t changed overly much
. Are you under age?’

‘No, I’
m twenty one
, but my father wasn’t going to let me say no and now it’s too late.’

By the time they reached the family seat at Ross-on-Wye, Jessica and Anthony had developed a firm friendship, but nothing prepared her for the barrage of abuse s
he received from her new father-in-
law.

She stepped out of the carriage, resting her hand on Anthony’s and was met at the top of the stairs by the officious butler Richmond, who looked down his nose at her as if she was a lump of horse muck.

‘His Lordship is in the study, my Lord and he will see her in there.’ Jessica felt Anthony bristle beside her.

‘Richmond! In fut
ure you will address my sister-in-
law as Her Ladyship or Lady Jessica. Do I make myself clear?’ Anthony demanded and Richmond squirmed and nodded consent.

Anthony led the
way and already Jessica was filled with trepidation
. He knocked on the door and opened it at the invitation to do so.

‘Ah! Here is the little baggage.’ Stephen
Carruthers
said callously. ‘It took you long enough to get here.
Were you busy servicing my son on the
way?
’
Jessica was confronted with an elderly man well into his dotage, sitting in a bath chair. He had almost white hair and was wizened and wrinkled.
‘Good I’m glad the little whore has arrived, Anthony. I dismissed the nurse this morning so she’ll have plenty to do now. There’ll be no time for balls or fucking in the bushes!’

Jessica sucked in a huge breath in shock at the ribald language of the Earl.

‘My Lord that is a gross exaggeration. At no time did I do anything in the bushes with your son!’ Jessica said coldly and speared the old man with her coldest look.

‘Who are you kidding? You misses are all the same, chasing any title you can get your hands on.’ He spluttered. ‘I heard about you at your first ball trying to get your hands on the Duke of Warwick’s title. He soon scuppered you didn’t he?’ The old man cackled like an old witch. ‘Come here and let me have a taste of your wares!’

Jessica saw the paper knife on the desk and she picked it up and pointed at the man in the chair. ‘If you so much a lay one hand on me I shall cut your throat!’

‘Don’t play the virginal miss with me!’ the old Earl shouted. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

‘My Lord. I am a virgin and if your son had hung around after the service he would have been able to swear to it.’

‘What’s this?’ the old man looked at Anthony, who had been quietly standing in front of the fire.

‘David left immediately for Portugal from the Church, father.’

‘Why would he do such a thing? There must be an heir! I told him that he had to get her with child before he left!’

‘Well he didn’t!’ Jessica said coldly. ‘He couldn’t get out of the church fast enough. Perhaps he still had to say goodbye to Lady Saddleworth, before his ship sailed!’

‘Saddleworth?’ the old man almost screeched. ‘I told him to finish with her month’s ago!’ he spat.

‘Well, Davey didn’t listen. Who do you think he was really with in the garden at Devon’s ball?’
Anthony said scathingly.

‘Damn and blast the impertinent boy!’ the old man fumed and levelled a baleful stare at Jessica. ‘Well, I don’t care to try and change anything. If you produce an heir in eight month’s I’ll believe you are the little whore my son fucked in the gardens at Lord Devon’s ball. If you don’t I might just believe that you are being honest, but be warned. Richmond doesn’t like you and he can be a hard task master.’

‘Father? If Richmond lays a hand on her I’ll kill him myself. Make sure he understands that if she produces an heir it will be my brother’s child, not his bastard!’

The Earl of Dean muttered and grumbled but eventually nodded his head, called for Richmond and explained that she was untouchable.

Jessica was shown to her room by the housekeeper, Mrs. Herbert. It was a very nice suite, with a sitting room and bedroom, all decorated in royal blue and gold. The velvet curtains around the bed looked new as did the thick eiderdown over the mattress. All Jessica’s trunks were stacked in the corner of the room and her maid had the top one open and was sorting the clothes out into the chest of drawers.

‘This is Mary, My Lady. She will see to your needs.’

‘Thank you
,
Mrs. Herbert.’
Jessica said calmly.

‘You shouldn’t let the old Earl upset you with his harsh language and things, he’s really quite harmless.’

‘Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Herbert.’ Jessica said again. The housekeeper took the hint and retreated. Jessica sat in a chair beside the window and looked over the front aspect of the hall. She could see the River Wye glimmering in the distance, as it meandered past the edge of the property.

She had onl
y had time to remove her cloak
and bonnet, when she was summoned to the Earl’s study again. She was on her way down the stairs when she was waylaid by Richmond. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, his other hand grabbing at her throat and pushing her up against the wall. It was such a surprise to Jessica that she squealed.

‘You can scream all you like, but one day your body will be mine.’ Richmond whispered malevolently in her ear.
He pressed his body against her in a most lascivious fashion, making her shudder with disgust.

She didn’t struggle, but remained calm and aloof. She stared into the butler’s black eyes and thought how cold and emotionless they were.
Richmond was not much taller than she was, but he exuded malevolence. He was round face
d
, like a cherub, but was almost bald. His face was tinged with cruelty and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. Up close like this she couldn’t avoid the bitter, oniony smell of him and it almost made her gag.

‘Release me, Mr. Richmond.’ She whispered with the last of her breath and as he relaxed his grip she smiled. ‘You can’t touch me until I’ve produced my husband’s heir. So I would keep your hands to yourself for now.’

‘I’ll have you!’ he spat in her face and turned abruptly away, stomping down the stairs.

‘Not if I can help it.’ Jessica muttered and was thankful for every bruise and bump she had received from her boisterous brothers. She walked calmly to the study, knocked on the door and waited. She heard the Earl summon her in and opened the door.

‘What the devil do you want, girl?’ he demanded like a petulant child.

‘You sent for me My Lord.’ She said calmly and evenly, not allowing the flicker of annoyance to register on her face.
Is he senile?
She asked herself.

‘Did I?’ he asked her and shook his confused head. At that moment a footman
entered with his dinner tray. ‘
Ah! Dinner!’ the old Earl said
mischievously. ‘You can get busy straight away by feeding me my dinne
r!’ he cackled again
. ‘And then you can bathe my body and ready me for bed.’

T
hat night and for the
next
three years
, Jessica wedged a chair under the door knob to stop anybody from entering the room during the night.

Chapter
Four

London,
May 1812

John Farrington
felt his testicles cramp
, grabbed her by the shoulders, rolled her vigorously onto her back
and yet again
yanked himself out for a gentleman’s finish in the sheets
. He
rolled off the woman beneath him and sighed in satisfaction.

‘Oh! Your Grace. That was fantastic!’ she murmured without any sincerity at all, making John snort with derision.

‘Really, Madam
. You can’t possibly convince me of that. You
’
r
e
like a whore and you tell me what you think I want to hear. I actually don’t care whether you think it was good or not. For me it was mildly satisfying.’ He said callously and climbed off the bed. He poured some water into the washstand basin and
cleaned himself up while she spluttered from the bed.

He had picked her up in a known gaming den, somewhere in Soho and in the dim lighting she had looked relatively clean and presentable. Of course John had consumed at least two jugs of claret and maybe half a
carafe
of brandy
, but he could still see the numbers on the cards and didn’t become so distracted by her that he left his winnings on the table. He sighed as he soaped his groin, checking his manhood for cuts, because the first time he’d had her up against the door, fully clothed and fucked her like a tuppenny whore, spilling his precious seed onto the carpet, then he’d stripped her clothes off and taken her on the floor, spurting his semen over her hot, sticky belly. She had finally managed to divest him of his clothing and persuaded him into bed, where she laved his manhood until he shot his load into her throat and finally she’d rode him like a demon, until he whipped her over on her back and yanked himself out to dribble the last of his sperm onto the sheets.
At no time did he lose control of his faculties.

‘How can you say that, Your Grace. We have made wonderful love all night!’ she said.

As he rubbed himself dry with a towel he turned to her and found the sight of her naked body quite off putting. ‘My dear lady,
it wasn’t love, it was sex!
I was three sheets to the wind when I arrived her
e
earlier
this morning and if I’d been sober I would have gone home instead!’ He slipped his britches over his legs and fastened the buttons absently as he looked about for his stockings and boots. ‘How much do I leave on the dresser for you?’ he asked and ducked as
the stopper from
a brandy decanter was shied at his head. He pulled his stockings on
, making sure they were secured by the buckles at his knee
and forced his feet into his boots before picking up his shirt. He stood looking down at the well used woman on the bed as she sobbed in her pillow.