THE Marquis's Mistress: Historical Fiction

CHAPTER 14

‘Oh Citrus what am I going to do?  I do love him so,’ she whispered softly.  ‘But he belongs to another.  He is betrothed to her, yet I wish he was mine.’  She sobbed her heart out to Citrus. As if consoling her, Citrus landed on her lap and chirped away noisily as if telling her to get over her moping.

‘Okay,’ she smiled, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks.  ‘I will listen to you,’ she murmured.  ‘You are a big fellow now right?  I guess you are telling me to be a big girl right?’ she smiled.  Citrus chirped again.  ‘I have to go and do some work now, so I will see you later Citrus.’  He seemed to understand for he soared high up into one of the tree branches.

During her break, Natasha enthusiastically did more work on the gown.  It was looking exquisite.  The shimmering layers of grey began to take shape.  She held the tiny bodice against her waist, it looked perfect.  Layers and layers of silk cascaded to her ankles from the skirt.  Unable to resist, when she stitched the bodice to the skirt, Natasha had to try it on.  She closed the library door, quickly removed her day dress, and gently pulled the gown over her head.  She wished there was a looking glass, but she would just have to wait till she got home. 

Natasha twirled around and around and laughed softly.  She felt like a princess.  It was the most lavish and expensive material she had ever possessed.  She loved how the dress hung on her slender body.  She traced her hands down her hip and down the length of her leg.  How she wished she was wearing it for Benedict and that he was going to embrace her in his arms. 

She better stop wishing for the impossible, Natasha removed the dress and carefully folded it and slipped it into her purse.  She could not wait to show it to Crystal.  Natasha knew all the gentle ladies always looked superb in their fancy gowns, finally she had one exquisite dress that will allow her to hold her own against them. 

Benedict worked the pitchfork in a frenzy.  Sweat was gathering at his brow but he ignored it.  The sun was beating like a blazing inferno.  The stable felt like an oven, but he continued to work the pitchfork turning the soil like his life depended on it.  He was angry, angry for the cruel fate that life had dealt him.  Angry for the title that he carried, that forced a responsibility on him that was killing him inside.  For the first time in his entire life, he resented being a Brinley.   He had chased his grooms away from the stables, insisting on doing the manual labour himself.  Needing solace, so he could give vent to the rage that was consuming him. 

Why?  Why had Natasha rejected him?  Did she not realize what she meant to him?  Did Natasha not realize his life without her, was like a life without any sunshine. Cold, miserable, and empty.  He had to convince Natasha to attend his engagement party.  He would not survive the night without her.  He longed to look into her passionate eyes.  He wanted to see her rosy red lips smiling at him, most of all he wished to have her gentle hands touching his face, brushing over his lips, just the way he loved.

‘My lord what are you doing here?’ Natasha demanded, never mind that it was his library.

‘This is for you,’ Benedict handed her a folded card.

‘Oh,’ Natasha murmured. 

Is my services being terminated? 

After reading through the invitation twice, Natasha looked up at Benedict pleadingly.  ‘Please, ‘she spoke quietly, ‘you can not expect me to be here.’

‘I need you to be here Natasha.  Please do not punish me by staying away.’

“‘Punish you” my Lord!’  Do you realise what you ask of me?’

Benedict closed the gap between then, ‘we will be there for each other,’ he murmured, taking her hands into his.

‘You will have to get used to it, because you will be married soon.’