Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

"It is from my papa. He asks us to the theater this evening." Eloise clasped her hands to her ample bosom and spun around. "Oh whatever shall I wear? Madame Bonnet, come and 'elp me."

Eloise disappeared into her bedroom and Elizabeth turned to enter her own. To her surprise, a new black evening gown lay on her bed. With trembling hands, she picked up a small beribboned box and a note beside the dress. Elizabeth held the gown against her body and marveled at its excellent cut and subdued elegance. The bodice was covered with jet beads, which were also scattered around the skirts of the gown, catching the light when she moved. It was the perfect dress for a society widow.

She opened the note and read the short message aloud: "Wear this dress for me tonight and only what is in the box. I don't intend to sit through another evening without knowing exactly what you are wearing beneath your skirts."

Intrigued and slightly apprehensive, she hurried to open the box. She pulled out a neatly folded black corset, a pair of black stockings, garters, and nothing else. She bit her lip and upended the box in a hopeless search for petticoats or the newfangled and scandalous drawers but there were none. She stuffed everything back into the box and sat down at her dressing table.

Given the innocent companionship of his daughter, she had almost forgotten her more base agreement with the duke. Thoughts swirled through her mind as she unpinned her hair and brushed out the tight braids. Could she ask the duke for a reprieve? Could she avoid his bed by offering to stay on as Eloise's companion and remaining disguised as a widow?

She pictured the duke's face. She had made a bargain with him and it behooved her to stick to it. She would hate it if the duke thought her a coward. Her future was as a courtesan. It was the only way to support herself and her brother. Maybe the duke was testing her obedience. They would be in a public place, with his daughter. He was hardly likely to seduce her there!

The duke came up to their suite well before the appointed hour for the play and spent some time with Eloise and Madame Bonnet. Elizabeth was relieved to see that there appeared to be genuine affection between father and daughter despite the duke's animosity toward the girl's mother. She was glad for, Eloise's sake, and surprised to see the softness of the duke's face as he humored her many requests.

He barely glanced her way and she was glad of it. He wore a pewter-colored coat with a black embroidered waistcoat beneath. His pantaloons were pale satin and fit him without a wrinkle. Elizabeth found herself crossing her legs and worrying at her lower lip as he finally looked up and studied her.

With an abrupt movement he rose to his feet and spoke in rapid French. Eloise and Madame Bonnet disappeared to find their cloaks and Elizabeth was left alone with the duke. He strolled toward her and she immediately sat up straight.

"Well, my dear?" He took her hand and helped her rise. "Do you like your dress?"

"Yes, thank you, Your Grace. It is beautiful."

"Good," he murmured and she shivered as he ran the tip of his finger along the edge of her beaded bodice, outlining the uppermost curves of her breasts. Her nipples tightened as she fought for breath. Eloise's excited chatter flowed in through the open door.

The duke didn't pull away and Elizabeth realized she was hidden from Eloise's sight by the duke's broad shoulders. To her horror, she found it impossible to do anything but stare up at his face like a besotted lap dog being petted as his finger stroked back and forth.

"Beautiful..." he breathed before brushing her cheek with his lips. He turned away to help Eloise with her cloak and Elizabeth hurried to find her own, more flustered than she cared to admit and more confused than ever.

The theater was already crowded when the duke ushered his party into the luxurious confines of his private box. Eloise, dressed in a primrose muslin gown that complimented her olive complexion, chattered unceasingly in a mixture of broken English and rapid French that Elizabeth tried to follow.

She watched the duke survey the swirling mass of humanity below them. Numerous women from all the social classes attempted to catch his attention, but to Elizabeth's relief, he seemed oblivious. Occasionally, he would honor some male acquaintance with a slight nod of his head.

Elizabeth sank into the nearest velvet chair and allowed the magnificence of the view to overwhelm her senses. She had not been to the theater for several years and had missed it badly. Raucous shouts rose from the lower levels in sharp counterpoint to the discreet rustles and whispers from the tiered seats and boxes. In the pit, candlelight glinted off raised bottles and the quizzing glasses of the young bloods that lounged close to the stage waiting to ogle the actresses. In the boxes above, the same light caught the brilliance of diamonds and fine crystal.

The duke took the seat to her left, cutting her off from the others in the box, and allowed his black cloak to fall from his shoulders. Elizabeth's mouth went dry as he uncoiled his powerful frame and settled into the chair, one leg crossed over the over. The lights dimmed and the gaudy purple and gold curtain began to rise. Elizabeth attempted to sit forward but the angle of the duke's knee prevented her.

The play started and Elizabeth was soon caught up in the witty, provocative dialogue. Intrigued, she leaned forward again, this time ignoring the pressure of the duke's hard thigh against her knee. She laughed out loud as the plot of the play became more convoluted and the acting more inventive. It was only when she sat back that she realized the duke had positioned his arm along the back of her chair.

His hand dropped to the curve of her neck and held her pinned to the back of her seat. She sat awkwardly, amazed that even through the fabric of his coat she could feel the heat from his skin against her bare shoulder. His gloved fingers traced a lazy path down past her throat and settled over the bodice of her gown.

Unable to breathe, and unable to turn her eyes away from the stage, Elizabeth stiffened as the duke's finger and thumb dipped below the line of her bodice and closed around her right breast. She fought an urge to squeak as a curious warmth hardened her nipple, sending rivulets of heat straight down to her stomach. The duke bent his head and bit down gently on her neck, which somehow seemed to intensify the strangely pleasurable sensation.

A ripple of applause and a few coarse shouts from the bear pit signaled that the first act had ended. The curtains swished across the garish stage and the lights went up. A roar of conversation erupted from the audience, who milled around seeking refreshments or acquaintances. The duke released his hold on Elizabeth with a leisurely ease far removed from her panic and stood up as the door to their box opened to admit a crowd of visitors.

Elizabeth slid into the duke's vacated seat and eased back into the shadows as she searched for composure. Why had she thought that she would be safe in public? By her own admission, the duke was a notorious rake. She was only experiencing at first hand why he had garnered such a reputation. It took her several minutes before she was able to pay attention to the other occupants of the box.

Eloise was the center of attention and seemed to enjoy the experience. The duke stood back, allowing her to shine, yet indicating by his very presence that Eloise was his daughter and thus well guarded. To her secret dismay, Elizabeth couldn't stop staring at the duke. He seemed quite unaffected by the sensations he had stirred in her.

"Elizabeth, you are staring."

The sensual understanding in the duke's cool, amused gaze negated his low-voiced reproof and Elizabeth blushed. With indecent haste, she averted her gaze and concentrated on watching the crowds below her. When the play resumed, the duke took the seat to her right. Her hard-won composure fragmented as he continued to turn her body into an unsettled mass of frustrated desire.