The next day, after Kit and Violet had driven out in his curricle to see the ruins in the nearby village of Clarkston, she sat with Peter in their sitting room (she had come to feel possessive over it, despite its shabby furnishings). They shared a small, low couch, his arm scandalously around her shoulders. The servants seemed to suspect the nature of their relationship, but were all cheerfully turning a blind eye. After all, Peter was the man who had hired them, and he was already proving to be a fair and generous steward. There was no reason to kick up a fuss just because he had the good fortune of winning Lady Juliet’s regard.
“I want you to take my virginity, Peter,” Juliet said, clearly and distinctly. Beneath his buckskin breeches, she thought she saw his cock twitch. He tightened his hold around her shoulders, but shook his head.
“Jules… when your fiancé returns–”
Juliet interrupted with a decisive wave of her hand. “Robert doesn’t deserve my fidelity. I don’t even know where he is! He might never return. I’ve been thinking for months now that I should write to him and break off the engagement.”
Although the idea had been floating in the back of her mind for quite a long time, Juliet felt so much loyalty to her father, who had arranged the match, and she was so naturally obedient that she never had the courage to take such a drastic step. But this past week with Peter had changed her mind. It had changed her.
They had spent many hours together since she had arrived at Blackburn Cottage, often going for morning rides, sharing meals and long walks. She felt so at ease with him, so comfortable, that her sad story of the absentee fiancé had come out the very next day of their acquaintance. Peter was a good listener, and he sympathized with all of her frustrations of the half life she was living, just waiting, waiting, waiting.
He had immediately apologized for his actions that first night, Kit not having told him of her engaged status. Juliet had shushed him with a kiss that had turned incendiary and she had ended up with her skirts rucked around her waist as he pumped his fingers into her pussy, bringing her to a climax right in the middle of the library, against one of the shelves of poetry. It was only a few minutes later that Violet had walked in, looking for a book, and Juliet had stammered out some kind of excuse for the two of them conversing alone and standing so close together.
Now in the sitting room, she said, “I want you, Peter. I have… a great affection for you. I trust you.” She tilted her head to look at him, her large, hazel eyes stormy in the afternoon light slanting through the windows.
“Jules,” Peter breathed, leaning forward and resting his forehead on hers. “The feeling is mutual. I have loved you since that moment on the terrace when I first saw you, a Botticelli Venus come to life. If I could, I would marry you tomorrow. But I’m just a steward, Jules. I have a little money from my pension, but it’s not much, and my parents can provide me with even less. Your father, your family’s opposition…”
Juliet sighed and said, “Yes, I’m not sure if he would consent to our marriage. Oh Peter, I love you too!” She threw her arms around him and their lips met in a fiery, passionate kiss. Soon, she was straddling his lap, the skirt of her light blue muslin dress riding up to reveal her white cotton stockings and her slim, creamy thighs above.
The kiss was all-consuming, tongue and teeth, licks and bites. Peter’s hands caressed her exposed thighs, then traveled to her ass, helping her to rock on his hardening cock. They were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice a young gentleman slip through the door, which had been ajar, and shut it behind him.
“Well, well, well!” the young man said, in a slightly mocking tone.
With a gasp, Juliet scrambled off of Peter’s lap, and he stood up with her as they faced the intruder, who was leaning back against the door, his arms folded and a smirk on his face. He had dark auburn hair with hints of red and his light gray eyes were twinkling in a way that offset the insolent moue of his full lips. He was not so tall or broad-shouldered as Peter, but he was very handsome and he wore riding clothes. His boots were covered in dust and Juliet vaguely wondered if he had ridden on horseback; it would explain why they had not heard a carriage approaching the house on the gravel drive.
The larger portion of her mind, though, was engaged in disbelieving recognition of the young man. Incredibly, just as she blurted out his name, Peter did the same.
“Robert!” Both of their voices blended in the same tones of incredulity.
Juliet turned to Peter and said, “You know him?”
Peter asked, “Robert Clifford is your fiancé?”
Robert laughed. He had a boyish look, and his laugh made him seem even younger. He grinned in delight at their confusion and amazement. He sauntered over, his hands behind his back.
“Yes to both questions. Peter knows me very well indeed, in fact!” He winked at Peter, who looked discomfited at this, straightening his shoulders and directing a frown at Robert.
“Well, well,” Robert said again with a jolly smile that seemed entirely nefarious to Juliet. “I do believe I have stumbled upon a tryst! Terribly sorry, I’ve always had the worst timing.”
Juliet felt her embarrassment suddenly melt away in the face of a rising anger. An anger that had been building for five long years, ever since she had received a short, perfunctory letter from Robert the day after their betrothal, simply explaining that he would see her again soon, but that he was leaving for Oxford to begin his university studies. That was the last time she had heard from him. Her anger, coupled with her confusion at being caught in such a compromising position, caused her to uncharacteristically loosen her tongue.
“Timing!” she spat. “That’s not your only fault, you inconsiderate lackwit!” At this, Robert and Peter both raised their eyebrows. “How dare you!” Juliet continued. “How dare you come here after five years and pass judgment–”
“Ah, love, you misunderstand me!” Robert raised his hands, palms out. “I pass no judgment. In fact, I am rather pleased by this turn of events. Sit, sit,” he said, ushering them back onto the low sofa. “By the expressions on your faces, I see I shall have to explain myself.”
He dragged a chair over to face them and sat, meticulously picking a piece of lint off his sleeve as he did so. The expression on his handsome face, which had just been so mischievous and cheerful, turned pensive. He stared off into the distance and began to speak.
“As you well know, Juliet, I am an only child. My mother died young and I was left with a father who did not know what to do with a sensitive boy like myself. I never cared for hunting or fishing, and beyond those two activities, my father had very little interest besides his lands. I had a tutor, a young clergyman who would come give me lessons in the morning. His name was Elijah, and he was… beautiful.” Robert sighed and smiled in fond remembrance.
“It was then that I began to understand that I was not quite like other boys. I was so young when our fathers arranged our betrothal, Juliet, although of course not as young as you were. Still, it was a fraught time for me, considering how attracted I was to Elijah. Alas, he did not share the attraction. I believe he eventually found a mousy little wife, a perfect companion for him in his country parish.
“I greatly enjoyed my time at university. Fellows like me, you know, we have a natural ability to sense each other. It took some time before I had the courage, but by the time my studies had ended, I had experimented a great deal with the sterner sex. I’m sorry to say I thought very little of you and our betrothal during that time, Juliet.” Robert finally looked at her and gave an apologetic smile when she rolled her eyes.
“Yes, but it all struck me like a lightning bolt when, after I had finished my studies, my father wrote to ask when I would return to Feltham to marry you, as you had just turned 18 and our two families agreed that it was time. I felt that I could not love you as I ought and, being a selfish sort of man who avoided conflict, decided to attach myself as a secretary of sorts to the father of one of my friends who is a diplomat.”
Robert now turned to look at Peter, and Juliet suddenly realized that Peter was not comfortable. He sat beside her, holding himself very rigidly and staring straight at Robert with an expression of foreboding.
“We found ourselves enmeshed with the war effort in Portugal, and it was there that I met Peter.” He smiled gently at Peter, as if to reassure him. After a moment, he turned his stare to the far wall again before continuing on with his story, and Juliet felt Peter relax incrementally, although she also felt some trepidation at the familiarity with which Robert spoke of Peter.
“It was on the continent that I discovered something new about myself. It was the fault of a French madame, very feisty, very beautiful. She had hair just like yours, Juliet, straight and golden. I had a very narrow view of women back then, you see. I thought they were all quiet, demure prudes. I had little interaction with the fairer sex as a boy, and even less at Oxford. Madame Faucher was femininity itself, but of a powerful, sexual sort. I would wager she could seduce any man or woman. She certainly seduced me.” A smug, satisfied smile came over Robert’s face and he sighed happily.
“Yes, we had a lovely time together, and I found that it was not just the Madame that I now found attractive. Any number of women and men have now crossed my path, and I have found them all delightful. I must confess, however,” and here he directed his open, impish gaze to Juliet, “that I still do very much prefer blondes.”
Juliet turned a bright red. But then Robert turned his eyes towards Peter’s fair hair and she saw a splash of color across her lover’s cheeks, as well as a tick in that chiseled jaw. Before she could say anything, however, Robert continued on.
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