Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 12

Elizabeth sat down to dinner in the duke's superbly decorated dining room with Sir John and Nicholas Gallion. As she contemplated the gray silk wall hangings and embroidered silver curtains, she wondered if the duke had deliberately chosen the décor to compliment himself. It took her only a moment to decide that he had.

To her secret relief, Nicholas had asked after her family and then not pursued the subject when she failed to confide in him. With some of her anxieties behind her, she had resolved to ask the duke if she might dispense with Nicholas's unnecessary attendance on her. She was sure he had better things to do.

"Mrs. Waterstone, you seem a little distracted this evening. Are you unwell? Do you wish me to call your maid?"

Sir John's harsh voice permeated her musings. She looked up at him with a guilty start and realized her fork was poised over her plate in mid air.

"I'm sorry, Sir John, my mind was off woolgathering. Did you ask me something?"

"I was just inquiring as to your state of health. You seem a little distracted."

Elizabeth put down her fork. "You mean that for once I was not eating, and you thought there must be something seriously wrong with me."

Nicholas burst out laughing. "I fear that you are right, Mrs. Waterstone. I believe Sir John admires a woman with a prodigious appetite."

The glance Sir John flung at Nicholas was far from friendly as he turned back to Elizabeth. "I meant no such thing, ma'am," he said stiffly. "I was merely concerned. You lack your usual sparkle."

Elizabeth paused and stared at Sir John's flushed face. He thought she had sparkle? They had dined together on several occasions since their first inauspicious meeting and had come to understand each other rather too well. Sir John would never shine beside the duke but he was a worthy, earnest man with a passion for his work that Elizabeth applauded even if she couldn't warm to him.

"I hesitate to confess it, Sir John," Elizabeth gave an apologetic shrug, "But I was thinking about my family."

"Is there anything wrong? Nicholas told me that everything went well this afternoon."

Elizabeth cast a sharp glance at Nicholas who winked at her. Why was Sir John concerned about her whereabouts and why was Nicholas duty-bound to tell him? For a moment her suspicions flared and then she remembered her new position. Sir John was probably anxious about her safety because of her value as a code breaker. He could scarce be interested in her interactions with her family.

"Nicholas was correct. I was merely reviewing some long-standing family problems." She managed a small laugh. "I'm sure that every family has its share of worries and mine is no exception."

The expression on Michael's face as she had left still haunted her. They were so close that somehow he had sensed she had not been completely honest with him. She knew him well enough to realize that he wouldn't cease nagging her until he had extracted the truth. She would have to be very careful.

Nicholas spoke and Elizabeth gladly took up the topic of his family and the problems of being raised with five sisters until it was time to retire.

Elizabeth studied her tired reflection in her dressing table mirror. She had survived her first encounter with her parents and siblings and knew it could only get easier. The little girl in her wanted to run away and delight in her new-found freedom but hard-won maturity told her that she was still needed. She slowly pulled out the pins that held her hair tightly to her head and massaged her skull with her fingertips.

There was a gentle tap on her door. Before she could answer, Jacques, the duke's valet, slid into the room, his expression one of freezing disapproval. He gave her a dignified bow and refused to meet her eyes.

"His Grace would like to see you in his bed chamber, Mrs. Waterstone."

Elizabeth stood and brushed down the skirts of her dress. Her loosened hair fell around her shoulders. She looked uncertainly at the little valet. "Does the duke mean now?"

Jacques gave an eloquent shrug of his shoulders and a loud sniff. "Oui, Madame and I apologize if you are shocked by his commands. I told him it was not fitting, but he refuses to listen to me..." Jacques retreated and Elizabeth made her way to the duke's bedchamber.

She knocked on the door but received no answer and, not wanting to be caught loitering in the corridor, let herself in.

"Good evening, my dear."

Elizabeth gulped and clasped both hands to her breast. The duke was in his bath and there was no sign of Jacques.

"Elizabeth, please close your mouth. I would not want an errant fly to choke you." The duke's eyebrows rose as she continued to gape at him. "What is it? Have you never seen a man take a bath before?"

She shook her head, her eyes glued on the magnificence of his naked chest, gleaming with water, and his bare feet crossed at the ankle on the edge of the tub. The slight olive blush of his skin made him look like a Greek god in the firelight. His hair was wet and clung to his skull like sleek sealskin. Elizabeth struggled to draw breath as her eyes followed the lines of his muscles and the dark hair on his chest until it disappeared into the soapy water at his waist.

"I need your help, cherie." The duke raised a languid hand and rubbed at his chest. "Jacques stormed off in a huff because I suggested you should join me and now I've no one to soap my back." His hand dropped below the water level and he produced a large sea sponge from between his knees.

Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth found herself moving toward the bathtub, her hand held out ready to receive the sponge.

"Thank you, my dear," the duke murmured. "I had begun to fear I might have to wash myself."

Elizabeth knelt by the side of the deep bathtub and slowly dipped the sponge into the warm, lemon-scented water. She squeezed the sponge between her fingers, her mouth dry, and contemplated the duke's body. Where should she start? Her only experience of bathing a fully grown man had been when Michael was too ill to care for himself and this, this was an entirely different matter.

"May I make a suggestion, Elizabeth?" The duke's intimate use of her first name shocked her out of her trance. She stared at him, hand poised over his chest and watched, mesmerized, as droplets of water fell from the sponge, caught the light, and slid down his flat stomach. "If you take off your gown, the silk will not get spoiled."

She could only nod and mutely present him with her back. His wet fingers felt warm against her skin as he parted the ties of her gown and allowed it to slip to the floor. She picked up the sponge again and he sat forward, allowing her access to the long supple line of his back.

"I've been thinking, my dear," he said as she began to rub the sponge in slow circles over his firm flesh, "It is time for you to start wearing lighter colors again. We shall pretend that the late, departed, unlamented Mr. Waterstone has been dead a year. The lavender and gray gowns from Madame Charles should look well on you." He groaned and rotated his broad shoulders as Elizabeth pressed down on his spine. "Ah, now that is good, Elizabeth. You are so much better at this than Jacques."

With an indignant sniff, Elizabeth leaned closer and scored her nails down his spine. "Really, Your Grace?" She inquired sweetly as his muscles flexed and bunched under her hands. He caught her wrist, pulled the sponge away from his back and looked at her. A slow smile widened his sensual mouth and his gaze lingered on her body.

"Oh yes, my dear, really. That is so much better."

She followed the direction of his gaze downward. Her corset had soaked through and clearly showed the outline of her breasts and nipples.

"Come here," he whispered, and extended a wet hand around her neck, drawing her to her knees and against his chest. His mouth sought entrance to hers and he kissed her with a leisurely enjoyment that left her breathless. After a while, he lay back against the end of the tub and allowed her to continue to wash his chest and arms.

Without waiting to be asked, Elizabeth soaped the duke's feet and legs, stopped short when she reached his knees, and started all over again. His hand closed over hers again and stilled her movements.

"Did you think that I would let you get away with not washing all of me?" He chided.

"No, Your Grace, I..." For the second time in her life, Elizabeth couldn't think of a single thing to say. The duke gave a soft laugh, released the sponge from her grasp and dropped it into the water between his thighs.

"Find it, cherie. I will help you if you become confused."

Elizabeth shut her eyes and tentatively lowered her hand into the swirling water. The soft skin of her inner arm brushed against the duke's hard thigh. Hardly daring to breathe, she dove down to the bottom of the tub and spread her fingers in a desperate search. The water was so deep that it almost reached the top of her arm and lapped against her chest. Her corset soaked up more water and one of the straps slid down her arm.

She gritted her teeth as her outstretched fingers brushed one of the duke's legs and he gave a little murmur of pleasure. She shuddered as he toyed with her breast with his long fingers.

"With your eyes shut tight like that, and your tongue caught between your teeth, you look like a little girl at the county fair rooting for prizes in a bran barrel."

His other hand slid down to join hers in the water and he laced her fingers through his own. She tensed as he drew her hand along the inside of his thigh and brought it to his groin. His teeth bit into the side of neck and he increased the rub of his fingers against her breast. Her breath came in uneven gasps as he curled her fingers around his cock.

"Well, my dear? What did you win? Is it to your liking?"

"I don't think that it is the sponge, Your Grace, but it certainly is of interest."

The duke's body shook with silent laughter and he dug his fingers into her hair, tilted her face up to his and kissed her.

"Oh, Elizabeth, you always have something educational to say, don't you?"

He held his hand over hers until he seemed to think she had recovered her composure. Then he moved her fingers over him into a sliding, compelling rhythm, which mimicked the slick thrust and withdrawal of his tongue. Elizabeth tried not to think about what she was doing and then was unable to think at all as the duke's kiss intensified.

Her fingers seemed to move over his shaft with a will of their own, keeping time with his tongue and the pulsing fire that spread downwards from her tight nipples and pooled low in her stomach.

"That's it, ma belle." He whispered hoarsely against her mouth. "Pleasure me as I will pleasure you."

She was almost shocked when he pulled away from her but it was only to lift her over the side of the bath and place her on his lap. Her thin petticoats clung to her legs and covered the duke's thighs as she steadied herself. His fingers worked against the wet laces of her corset and freed her breasts. With a growl, he arched her backwards and bent his head to her.

The first touch of his mouth on her already sensitized nipple made Elizabeth moan and rock against him. She was shockingly conscious that the only thing that separated her from the duke's nakedness was the layer of her petticoats. She could feel his heat and the thick pulse of his cock through the thin fabric and pressed urgently against him.

With a muffled oath, the duke went rigid and his hips thrust back at hers in a rough demand. Then he gave a groan and collapsed against her breasts. When he had lain still for a few minutes, Elizabeth tentatively raised her hand and stroked his hair.

"Gervase, are you all right?" she asked and was answered by a flick of his tongue over her nipple.

"Mmmm..." he murmured and levered himself away from her. "I must apologize for my immature behavior." His teeth flashed out in a grin. "I've not had a woman since I met you and I confess to being overcome by the effect you have on me."

Elizabeth frowned. Whatever was he talking about? She moved her hips and realized that the duke's body had... altered. Her gaze wandered over the duke's flat stomach and chest to find him watching her, a glint of amusement and something more sensual in his silver eyes. Understanding dawned in an unwelcome rush.

"Oh, Your Grace, I thought I had injured you in some way." She waved her hand distractedly at his lap. "I didn't realize that a man's pleasure would be so, so..."

"Inconvenient?" The duke finished the sentence for her as he helped her out of the bath.

She shivered and Gervase drew her into the circle of his arms and stripped away her wet shift. Without releasing her, he pulled his thick robe from the back of a nearby chair and put it on, wrapping her within its folds, close to his body. She rested her cheek against his chest with an odd little sigh. Looking down, he could still make out the remnants of her blush against the creaminess of her flawless skin.

He drew her even closer and marveled at how well she fit against him. His whole body purred with a sense of release and pleasure. It still surprised him that a woman who was neither beautiful nor talented in bed could affect him so deeply. Without further thought, he began to dry her. Her long mane of brown hair curled up at the ends and caught in his fingers.

With a murmur of reassurance, he picked her up and strode to a chair by the fireside. He settled her across his lap, keeping her covered with his robe, and began to work his fingers through her dampened hair. She gave no sign of concern about being held against his naked torso and he was glad of it. Some soft part of himself that he had almost forgotten existed would have minded if she had grown afraid of him again.

He continued to untangle her hair and sought for a topic of conversation that would not embarrass her or refer to her new sensual experiences. "How is your family, Elizabeth? Did you manage to conduct a civil conversation with your mother or did she show you the door?"

"My mother made it very clear that she did not wish to see me at all, let alone converse with me, but we managed to rub along." She sighed. "I've you to thank for that. Without your intervention, I would have lost my family."

Gervase kissed the top of her head. "My pleasure, my dear. Sometimes, being a duke has its advantages." He cleared his throat. "Did you see Mr. Forester?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Elizabeth snorted and her head came off Gervase's shoulder, a militant sparkle in her eyes. "He looked at me as though nothing had changed and then made sly insinuations about my 'duties' in front of my mother and stepsister."

Gervase shook his head and the indignation died from her eyes and was replaced by disquiet.

"There is something different about them. It has been worrying me all day," Elizabeth said and Gervase held his breath. "How are they able to afford a season for Mary? I understand that it is ruinously expensive." She looked up at him with clear eyes. "Is it not so, Gervase?"

Her brow crinkled and Gervase, gratified at her unprompted use of his first name, drew his fingers over the lines until she relaxed again. "Maybe Mr. Forester has won a great deal of money, my dear. Or your mother has received a recent bequest." He shrugged. "It could be any number of things." He paused and wound one of her curls around his finger. "Have you thought to ask?"

Elizabeth sat up, his robe falling away from her breasts. "I must confess to a hint of cowardice. I was afraid my mother would refuse to let me visit if I brought up the undignified subject of money."

Gervase was anxious to hear her conclusions as to the reasons for Mr. Forester's sudden wealth and yet was intrigued by the glimpse of her life and the hardships she hid so well.

She glanced at him. "When I lived at home my mother and Mr. Forester took full advantage of my ability to work for them." She bit her lip. "Maybe it is conceit, but I assumed that without me, things would be worse and the opposite appears to be true."

Gervase, reluctant to disturb her train of thought, raised an eyebrow to encourage her to go on.

"They had a maid to open the door and the house was clean and well cared for. And, more to the point, my mother served me fresh tea and pastries." Elizabeth must have caught his lack of understanding as she smiled. "I used to be in charge of the housekeeping, and I had to watch every penny. We couldn't even afford a maid most of the time. Tea leaves were always used at least twice and all the pastries were baked by me."

An unaccountable stab of anger surprised Gervase as he imagined Elizabeth bent over a cooking range, intent on feeding her shiftless family. He took her hand in his and examined it. He ran his fingers over the faint burn marks on her skin. His frown deepened until she caught his wrist and stopped further exploration.

"Don't picture me as a drudge. I chose to take on a lot of the responsibilities because I preferred to. I tried to keep our family respectable. Is that a crime?"

He understood pride; he had been born to it. He thought none the less of her for such stubbornness and refusal to allow her family to sink into debt and disgrace.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "No, my dear, your actions, were of course, admirable, but it still doesn't explain where Mr. Forester is getting the money for Mary's debut."

Elizabeth collapsed against him. "I know."

Reluctant to inquire further and aware of an unaccustomed sense of peace, Gervase slid his hand under Elizabeth's hair and caressed the soft nape of her neck. Her hair was almost dry now and he buried his nose in the soft mass of curls. Despite the fact that she had shared his bath water, she still retained her own unique scent.

As he inhaled, his cock thickened against her soft buttocks and he waited for Elizabeth to point it out as she inevitably would. When she said nothing, he gently tipped her head back into his open palm and gazed down at her face. She had gone to sleep.

With a wry smile, he gathered her into his arms and headed for her bedroom. For all his vaunted sexual expertise, it was the first time he had managed to bore a lady to sleep before he had exhausted her in bed. He laid her down and pulled the covers over her. He fought the urge to stay and sleep beside her, a practice he usually avoided with his mistresses, whom he paid to stay awake and amuse him, not to sleep.

He waited for a moment to see that she was settled and then headed back to his own bed.

As he blew out the candles, he began to smile. Elizabeth had learned to pleasure him and she seemed to have the ability to break code. He pictured her face. She might not be beautiful or expert in bed, but to him, she was infinitely more alluring just as she was.