An Unacceptable Arrangement Page 5

  She closed her eyes and shuddered, trying to imagine being unclothed in front of him. She prayed that their bridal chamber would be dark. She thought of lying back and allowing him to look upon and caress her body in whatever way he wished. She knew that a part of his body was supposed to enter into a part of hers. Would it hurt? What if they did not fit together? What if it didn’t work? What if she didn’t please him? And she knew that just lying there wasn’t going to be enough. She would be expected to respond and to... do things... to him. What kind of things? She should have asked Nanette’s sister more questions. She began to tremble.

  “Are you cold, my darling?” her husband asked. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her. He looked closely at Cassandra. She didn’t look cold; in fact she looked rather overheated. Her face was quite flushed. She looked embarrassed. As he studied her expression he realized what she was fretting about. She was a virgin and tonight their wedding night. Their kiss at the altar had undoubtedly been her first. She was expecting him to claim his marital rights and the thought would naturally unnerve her, especially since they were basically strangers.

  Frederic took her hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile. At the age of thirty, he had ample experience in the art of love; however, most of his partners had been mature women of experience. Claiming a maiden would be new to him. He felt himself growing heated as he imagined entering her for the first time. She would forever be his and his alone. He realized that he should say something to her, something reassuring. But what to say to a highborn, sheltered young lady as she faced the unknown? “Everything will be all right Cassandra, do not worry. I am a most considerate lover, I assure you.”

  Cassandra’s flush deepened. He knew what she was thinking! Suddenly they hit a hole in the road and the carriage bounced. Cassandra yelped as she was lifted out of her seat and slammed back down. Frederic looked at her most curiously.

  “Is something wrong, my dear?” he asked.

  She bit her lip and shook her head no, unwilling to speak. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

  Frederic wondered why it had been painful for her to bounce in her seat. Did she have, perhaps, a sore bottom? Arthur had alluded to her temperament; could there have been a showdown between father and daughter? Perhaps the young lady had balked at the wedding announcement and had to be taken over her father’s knee. Just then they hit another pothole and Cassandra again yelped a second time as her bottom again made contact with the well-padded seat.

  Frederic smiled to himself. He was rather a connoisseur of bare-bottomed discipline. He came from a large family and had observed his sisters’ punishments and even dispensed a few whenever his father was away. He knew for certain that his mother bowed to his father for correction as his little wife would bow to him. It was how things were done. He would have to make sure that the candles stayed lit tonight as he undressed his new bride. He intended to give all of her - including her bottoms - a most thorough inspection.

  Cassandra noted that the carriage had entered London. It turned on to a fashionable street and was slowing down. She realized how close they were to the shops. Did they have a house here? If so, it could be quite fun! They pulled into the portico of a large French Provincial-style townhouse. It was quite charming with several lavish flowerbeds and two potted trees near the entrance. There were gardens visible from the portico and a carriage house at the end of the drive. A handful of servants came out and stood in a line, waiting to greet them. Cassandra counted; there were but ten. Was that even doable?

  The carriage rolled to a stop and a footman placed down steps and opened the door. Frederic disembarked and then helped her down. They approached the servants and her husband introduced them one by one. There was Helmut who, despite his German moniker, was a classic British butler. Cassandra was pleased that she’d be able to converse with at least one member of the staff. Then she met the housekeeper, who seemed pleasant enough but spoke only German. There was red-cheeked Cook, an Irish woman who beamed at her, openly pleased that the master had taken a wife. Her husband introduced their footman - the groom who had driven their carriage and was even now seeing to the horses – as Wolfgang. There was also a couple of chambermaids, a couple of parlor maids and two more male servants. Cassandra was most relieved that he’d hired basically a British staff, and she hoped the Germans in her husband’s employ would help her master their language.

  Frederic quickly showed her around the house, which was large but not quite large enough to get lost in. She found that she liked it; it was cozy as opposed to the grand house she’d grown up in. It was clear though that she was going to have to get over the lifestyle she was accustomed to as the daughter of a Duke. Her heart sank and she flushed. There was no denying that her father had given her away to live beneath her station. Didn’t he love her? And what was his hurry, she wondered? She could certainly have done better than this.

  She found the house rather sparsely furnished but very clean. But as her husband gave her the grand tour something gave her a feeling of unease. She couldn’t put her finger on it but it kept niggling at the back of her mind. She was distracted from her reverie when Frederic escorted her to the dining room. Cook had laid out a substantial tea and Cassandra was surprised to realize she was quite famished. The butler smiled knowingly as he served, saying something about how wedding couples are usually too nervous to eat much at the wedding itself. She found that she quite liked him; he was formal and correct but without being stuffy.

  She looked at her husband and smiled and spoke. “My husband - oh my goodness, I have a husband. I can’t believe I am married!”

  Frederic beamed at her, “Ach, I too cannot believe I have taken a wife, and such a splendid one!” He smiled as she flushed, pleased. As he relaxed, his accent became more pronounced.

  “We have so much to speak of, Sir Frederic, a lifetime to catch up on.”

  “And we have a lifetime to do so, my dear,” he reminded her. He could see her growing weariness. After they finished tea he showed her to her rooms. “Why don’t you rest, Cassandra? Dinner will be served at eight. Perhaps a nap would be in order?”

  She smiled at him gratefully. In her room, she was introduced to a German woman named Liesl who was to be her lady’s maid. Liesl smiled and bobbed in a curtsey. She appeared to be in her thirties, was tall and plain and wore her blond hair in braids wrapped around her head. Cassandra’s new rooms were adequate, consisting of a rather sparsely furnished guest room and an outer room. There was a nice sized bed, a large armoire and dresser, various chairs and tables and fresh flowers were set all around. Liesl had clearly done her best to make the suite cheery for her new mistress. Cassandra wondered how many other servants there were who hadn’t been in the lineup outside.

  Suddenly a wave of homesickness struck her. She hadn’t felt it this keenly since her first night in boarding school when she was eight years old. Liesl was bustling about the room and didn’t see the tears come to her Ladyship’s eyes. She quickly blinked them away. She was a mature married woman now, and trying very hard to appear grown up.

  Liesl had already emptied Cassandra’s trunk and asked if she’d like to bathe before napping. Cassandra didn’t want to be any trouble. She had already bathed that morning and another bath seemed like too much of a luxury, but she was tempted when Liesl showed her the adjoining bathroom with the hot and cold running water! Cassandra could not believe her eyes and instantly forgot her homesickness. Such a marvelous invention! All she had to do was turn a tap and the bath filled with water. She declined, though, saying she’d take one before dinner; at that moment all she wanted was to rest.

  Liesl helped her out of her gown and petticoats, corset, chemise and drawers. She was very motherly with her mistress, clucking and shaking her head over the state of Cassandra’s bottom. She put her mistress to bed and Cassandra almost instantly fell asleep. When she awoke, she took a most wonderful bath and as she soaked in the tub she reviewed what she knew about the man she n
ow shared her life with.

  He didn’t seem to stand on formality. She had noticed that even the servants called him Sir Frederic rather than address him by his title. He was handsome and solicitous and attractive. He did business with her father and knew her mother but did not seem to know her brother. He was not a snob; he’d seemed most content with their little wedding and had mingled easily with their guests, so he was sociable. Her father said he was a Baron with a large estate – was his house in Germany large or did that refer to his lands? Father had also said he was a good man, which was high praise from her father who tended towards cynicism. His home – at least this one – was adequate and the servants skilled.

  He’d told her himself he was a good lover in a manner that suggested confidence in his abilities. Of course he would be a gentleman of experience at his age, which she judged to be in his early thirties. He was forward thinking, given the modern conveniences of his house. All of these were good qualities.

  Just as Cassandra became fully relaxed and her eyes began to close they flew open again. She suddenly recalled what it was that had made her uneasy after her tour of the house. It was her new husband’s study. There had been a collection displayed on the wall. Oh, a walking cane collection, she had thought at the time. Now she wasn’t so sure. It was indeed a collection of walking sticks but in retrospect some of them were much too thin for the purpose. Also there had been other disturbing items in the room. A slender, well-oiled strap had hung by the side of the desk. And the spittoon by the door had held a collection of switches. Had she imagined the hint of brine she’d smelled as she passed? Cassandra shuddered, imagining how easily those switches could be bound together with just a bit of ribbon.

  Her father kept his punishment implements in a locked cabinet in his study but – if these things in the study were for the same purpose - Frederic kept them proudly displayed. That could not be a good sign.

  Liesl saw her mistress shiver and misinterpreted it as a signal that she was getting chilled. She helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a lush towel, then chose a dress for her to wear to dinner. All she had was debutante gowns and they were most improper for a young married lady - too much décolletage for one thing, but Cassandra was certain her new husband would not mind if she wore them just for him. Liesl had chosen the blue dress but her husband had already seen her in that at the ball. She directed Liesl to the green one instead.

  She had Liesl pull her laces extra tight to emphasize her small waist and accentuate her bosom. Liesl put her hair up most skillfully. Cassandra pinched her cheeks and bit her lips for color and then Liesl showed her down to the dining room. Her groom was standing beside the dining table, the chandelier ablaze. It was glorious! Frederic was actually one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Perhaps his looks were growing on her but the more she saw of him, the more pleasing his countenance became. There was something about his commanding presence that was most thrilling, but also a bit intimidating.

  He bowed before her and kissed her hand and then led her to her seat. The table was long but her husband seated her right next to him. Cassandra was pleased; they’d be able to chat privately. Luckily the dining room chairs were padded; after that bumpy carriage ride home her embattled bottom felt especially tender. It was just a day ago that she’d received the birching of her life.

  Frederic had asked Liesl to take notice of the state of madam’s bottom and while Cassandra had slept, the maid reported that she’d seen a great deal of welting and blisters and was certain that her new mistress had very recently been birched. With a twinkle in his eye, Frederic watched his bewitching new wife gingerly take her seat.

  As they were served, Cassandra nervously began to chat, filling in the quiet. She shared with Frederic how she had noticed him at the ball.

  “Indeed,” he replied. “There were many gentlemen there; you had several interested dance partners. Why did you notice me?”

  “Well... those startling blue eyes of yours, for one thing. And you were staring.”

  He began to apologize if he had made her uncomfortable.

  “No, not at all,” she replied. “Nobody seemed to know who you were. We... my friends and I... we called you The Mystery Man.”

  He liked that. “And what other gentlemen stood out to you at the ball?”

  Cassandra grew quiet. “No one in particular. I knew most of the men there.” She shrugged. Her new husband was actually the only man who’d made an impression on her, other than the Prince of Wales, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

  Frederic was most pleased. Their new marriage was off to a very good start. Just as he was the only man who had stood out to his new wife, she was the only woman he’d taken note of. And it wasn’t just because of her delicate beauty, also because of her manner, her spirit and comportment.

  She had put her hair up this night but several curls had escaped and were hanging down. He fought the impulse to lean over and nuzzle that delicate, long white neck. Instead he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them one by one, as the servants removed their soup dishes and brought out the next course. He reluctantly let go of her hand so she could eat.

  Frederic was doing his best to create a sense of intimacy during dinner. He wished the seduction to begin now so that by the time his bride was brought to his bedroom, making love to her would not be so awkward.

  Cassandra stopped eating, looked up at her husband and confessed, “I don’t even know what to call you, my Lord. He leaned towards his new wife and was pleased when she held her position and did not retreat at his closeness.

  “I like it ever so much when you call me ‘my Lord’ and you may also call me ‘Sir’. However when we are alone together in the privacy of our rooms...” she visibly flinched at the reference to their private quarters, “you may call me whatever term of endearment you wish.”

  “I think I should like to call you darling,” she replied, looking up at him with her soft, doe-like eyes.

  “Yes my dear, that would please me very much.” Frederic smiled at his wife. She was delicate of frame but there was a lushness to her. She possessed a sweet curvaceous figure that stirred his blood. The word that came to mind was “ripe”. She was ripe for the plucking. The top of her bosoms spilled out over the low cut neckline of her dress. He wanted to bury his face in them and rub his cheek against their softness but he controlled himself, savoring the wait. He would be at them soon enough.

  He gave a silent curse when the butler entered the room. The intimate exchange had been so sweet, and he hadn’t wanted it interrupted. He was carrying dessert though and Cassandra gasped, it was the top layer of their wedding cake!

  “But how...?” she asked. The butler explained that her mother had sent it over. It was delicious, like the rest of the brunch had been. Cassandra was surprised as the discomfort she felt at the thought of her mother being able to have something run over to the house just like that. Their trip to her husband’s homeland could not come quickly enough.

  Frederic suggested that they retire to the parlor to listen to music. Cassandra was confused, how would they hear music? Was he going to play an instrument? Instead she was surprised to see a contraption in the room that her husband called a graphaphone. Frederic had her sit on the loveseat and explained how the marvelous contraption worked. Cassandra watched with fascination as he lowered an arm containing a sharp needle onto a rotating disc. Music magically entered the room, to her complete amazement and joy. First the running water and now this? She could not help but be impressed.

  Frederic seated himself on the loveseat and put his arm around his wife as the strains of opera filled the room. Cassandra again became self-conscious and looked down at her hands. He scooted over nearer to her, almost touching and Cassandra allowed herself to relax and lean into her husband. When the music stopped he told her who had sung the song and what the words meant.

  “The young man is telling his beloved that he would climb the highest mountain and travel t
o the ends of the earth just for the pleasure of her smile.” At this Cassandra turned and smiled into his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

  “We will go to the opera often when we are in Bavaria, my love.” He described a typical opera evening to her – the splendor of the Opera Hall with everyone in formal attire. They would, he said, have a private box seat and would invite their friends to join them. Frederic assured her she would love the sets, the costumes and the dramatic stories set to music.

  She started to ask him about his homeland. “Sometimes you are referred to as being from Bavaria but father said you were from Germany. Which is it?” she asked.

  “My people consider themselves Bavarian first and German second,” he replied but then he stopped her, putting his fingers to her lips. Then he began to trace the outline of her lips with his fingers. Her lips were full and soft. She was bubbling with questions but this was not the night for conversation, this was the night to begin their intimate life as man and wife. Frederic had something other than conversing on his mind. He leaned forward and ever so gently kissed his new bride.

  It was not like the kiss at the altar, that one had been demanding and forceful; this kiss was ever so delicate she hardly felt him at first. Then his lips connected firmly with hers and she felt a thrill course through her. Kissing was surprisingly nice and she wondered why she’d waited so long to do it. She would have shared this observation with her husband but his lips were wandering now. He began to kiss her cheeks and then his lips traveled down to her earlobe, which he first flicked with his tongue and then began to suck.

  She was finding it increasingly hard to hold still; her husband was igniting all sorts of feelings within her. Before she could catch her breath, he was at her neck; she could feel his warm breath as he nuzzled her there. She smiled - it felt nice - and almost giggled but then felt his fingertips. They were touching the point of her left breast. She gasped and pulled away, covering her chest, shocked at his audacity.