Chapter Text
Jude Bellingham, Duke of Berkeley sauntered into the Harington town house well past the hour of late morning callers, knowing fully well that his intended had probably still not woken up. He was ushered into the drawing room by a footman. Viscountess Harington was sitting inside, knitting with her abigail. She was dressed in a blue gown, her chestnut hair in a high bun secured by a diamond brooch. She halted in her activity when the duke’s presence was announced, the wrinkles around her brown eyes more pronounced as she smiled at him.
“Berkeley!” she cried out, extending her hand for it to be kissed in greeting. “I’m afraid your intended has not come down for breakfast yet. She was awakened but a few minutes ago.”
Jude chuckled at that, bowing briefly and kissing her extended hand. “I am hardly surprised to hear that. Why do you think I waited this late to call?”
Lady Harington returned his chuckle and resumed her knitting. “I see you know my daughter well enough by now.”
“I would like to think so,” he rejoined, and settled himself at the high-backed silver colored sofa positioned at the far corner of the room. This was to give him and Anne the illusion of privacy when she comes down more than anything else.
He leaned back against his seat, crossing one leg over the other. As he chit-chatted with his future mother-in-law, maids scurried into the room holding trays of delicacies and kettles filled to the brim with tea. They placed it on the shiny wooden table in front of him, curtseyed and left. His stomach made an undignified sound which he hoped the ladies did not hear. He’d woken up late himself, decided to skip breakfast at home and eat with Anne when he arrived here. As he looked down at the scones, toasts, and eggs made exactly how he liked them, he was tempted to dig in without her.
Ah, finally!
The sound of her melodious voice made him look up. She’d already greeted her mother and was now making her way towards him, her radiant smile brightening the room. She had on a flowing gown of navy-blue silk, the frilly high neck-line emphasizing the weight of her generous bosom. Her rich auburn hair rested in curly tresses down her back and around her shoulders, her slender neck adorned by a simple pearl necklace. She was as lovely as they come and the knowledge that she was to be his wife filled Jude with both pride and exhilaration.
“Your Grace,” she intoned, executing a perfect curtesy before settling opposite him, with scant distance between them, just the way Jude liked it.
“My lady,” he returned with a smile. He held up her hand, dragging his lips over knuckles in a gesture that was more a caress than the chaste kiss that was customary. “I trust you slept well.”
“I did, thank you.” She hesitated for a few seconds before taking back her hand. “I hope I have not kept you waiting for long.”
“Not at all,” Jude brushed away her concern. “Shall we?” he gestured towards the food.
“Yes, please.”
They spent the next several minutes eating and talking in low voices, smiling at each other over their cups of tea. Jude was greatly enjoying himself as he always did when he was with Lady Anne. He was always relaxed in her company and she always made him laugh. She was one of the few people who was unfazed by his status and immense wealth. It was way past time for them to be betrothed, he knew this. He also knew the reason why he was still hesitating to propose even though the ring he’d commissioned for her had arrived a few weeks prior. She must be getting impatient and yet she has never pushed for it. One of the several reasons that made Jude sure she was the right woman for him.
“Berkeley, has your sister still not returned from her voyage?”
“No, Lady Harington. She is meant to return today.”
“Anne has relayed to me that she is betrothed to a Spaniard and is coming back with him? Pray, tell me, this is not true.”
Jude shared a look with Anne, the latter giggling before taking a dainty sip of her tea. “Mother, you know the Bellinghams do not ascribe to the rules of Society. The late Duke and Duchess of Berkeley, God bless their souls, always allowed Your Grace to run amok in his youth and now he lets Lady Victoria do the same.”
“You, my lady, were too young to know anything about my youthful escapades,” Jude said in a low teasing tone only for Anne to hear, then raised his voice and responded to her mother, “It is true, indeed. I wish I could say that I was shocked when I read the letter she sent me, but I know my sister so well that I had suspected something of this sort would come about.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the Viscountess. She paused in her knitting and turned around to face the duke. “Why on earth did you let her embark on the voyage to begin with?”
“God help me if I had truly attempted to stop her from going,” Jude said with a shrug, smiling fondly as he thought about his sister’s pig-headedness. “The best I could do was make sure she travelled with two of my butler’s most trusted footmen to keep her safe. I trust that her abigail did her role and served as her chaperone at all times.”
“And who is this Spaniard she means to marry?”
“The second son of some Marquess. I cannot remember his name for the life of me.”
“I must say, I am dying of curiosity to meet this gentleman who won our dear Victoria’s heart,” Anne spoke up beside him.
“So am I, my lady,” Jude replied almost absent-mindedly, “so am I.”
By the time Jude was stepping into the establishment of Madame Levine, dusk had arrived. The sun was muffled by a bank of clouds, the sky painted a tapestry of deep reds and oranges. Madame Levine, the woman in question greeted him in the luxuriously decorated parlor. Her gown was of a shimmering light pink, neckline incredibly low, her breasts were practically falling out. Her full lips were painted ruby red, the same rouge tainted her cheeks. Jude smiled at her as she curtseyed in front of him.
“Is Jamal ready for me?” he asked, skipped pleasantries, suddenly eagerly to get to the person who had brought him here.
“He has been impatiently waiting for your arrival for quite some time now, Your Grace,” Madame Levine informed.
“Very well then, I shall proceed to his chambers.”
Jude walked past her as she curtseyed again. He made a curve and strode down the long-carpeted corridor to the room at the far end, on his left. He knocked only once before pushing open the heavy door and stepped inside the airy room.
“Your Grace, I was dying for your presence every second you delayed,” the stunning courtesan that was the object of Jude’s lust purred, seductive smile on his sensuous lips, dimples that he’d always found irresistible showing.
Jamal was reclined on the large bed wearing a silky robe that was untied. His naked chest, groin and legs were on display, flawless skin calling to Jude like it always did. He was divesting himself of his cravat, his tail coat hitting the ground faster than he can sprint to the bed. Jamal let out a mellifluous laugh when Jude pounced on him, splaying his neck with kisses, biting into skin. Soon enough, he had Jamal panting underneath him as Jude rammed into his body, blocking the world out as he savored the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.
Sometime later, sated, Jude laid on his back, gazed fixed on the ceiling, his mood pensive.
“Your Grace, why do you frown so? Did I not please you well enough?” Jamal spoke up beside him, his hand gently caressing Jude’s chest.
“You know you did, Jamal. You always do.” He sighed; his heart heavy with what he had to say next. “I believe this would be our last rendezvous. I do not think I would come back.”
“You are to propose, that is it?”
Jude nodded. “It is time. I have to think about building a family and producing an heir. We may think we have all the time in the world but we do not.”
“All of that is well and good. But it should not be a hindrance to fulfilling your desires.”
“I would not be an unfaithful husband, Jamal. Not under any circumstances.”
“What am I to do without you?”
Jude sat up and kissed away his pout. “You are the most coveted male courtesan in the whole of London. You would hardly notice my absence, let alone mourn it.”
“I highly doubt that,’ Jamal snorted, the hand on Jude’s chest halted its movement. His gaze turned serious, the look on his face vulnerable. “None of those men are you, Your Grace. None of them ever treated me with the tenderness and respect that you do. They never made me feel as though I am more than a common whore only here for their carnal pleasure.”
Jude’s heart clenched at that, the fondness he felt for the alluring courtesan suddenly gripping him. He grabbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You do know that is not how I see you. And I entreat you not to see yourself that way.”
“Do you see why you cannot abandon me? Who would remind me of all the things I could be when you are gone?”
“Lady Anne is a good woman. She would make me an excellent wife and would give me beautiful children. As the Duchess of Berkeley, she would deserve to be treated with the honor that the title commands.”
“Do you believe she would be a lover who satisfies your needs as well?” Jamal asked, sidling down Jude’s body
Jude thought of Anne’s captivating beauty, the way her pale blue eyes would skim down his body in quiet appreciation. Yes, he had a feeling sexual congress with his wife to be would be more than satisfactory. “I do believe she would make me a very happy man. I would not be marrying her if I did not desire to bed her.”
Jamal’s hand closed around Jude’s prick and he swallowed him all the way to the root, causing him to groan loudly. “Do you believe your precious Lady Anne would take as much pleasure in sucking your prick as I do, Your Grace?” Jamal enquired in an innocent tone when he pulled back.
“She shall learn to,” Jude replied, grinning down at him. But as he threw his head back when the talented courtesan took him in his mouth again, there was an unpleasant feeling at the pit of his stomach. However, he could not dwell on it. Jamal was doing what he did best.
Turning Jude’s world upside down.
“Come now, Berkeley, you do not mean to tell me you’d spent the better part of the year paying an obscene amount of money to keep Jamal exclusively yours only to let him go now?”
Jude looked up from the ledger he was perusing and stared at Brahim Diaz, the obnoxious Spaniard who was his steward, closest friend and one true confidante. They were in his Study which also served as library in the Berkeley town house. In hindsight, it might have been wiser to remain silent about his rendezvous with Jamal and the decision he’d taken.
“Are we here to talk about how my various business holdings are faring or my former courtesan?”
“Did we not always engage in both?’ Brahim asked with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.
Jude leaned back in his leather seat, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “There is nothing to discuss where Jamal is concerned. I am to be married. My involvement with him cannot continue.”
“What does one have to do with the other? Almost every husband in London keeps a paramour.”
“I am not going to be such a husband. And that is the last I would say on the matter. Now back to my affairs...”
Halfway through their discussion which was well into the night, a footman came into the study to announce the arrival of his sister. Jude and Brahim stood up just as Lady Victoria ran into the room and straight into the arms of her brother. Jude held her tight, laughing into her hair and twirling her around. As he placed her down, his gaze landed on the man who was regarding them with a fond smile on his face. His sister walked over and stood by his side, taking his hand in hers.
“Your Grace, this is Pablo Martín Páez Gavira, second son of the Marquess of Larios, my betrothed, “she said, “Dearest, this is my dear brother, Jude Bellingham, Duke of Berkeley.”
“Ah the Spaniard who stole my sister’s heart,” Jude said. He came forward and shook Pablo’s hand. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to my home.”
“Likewise, Your Grace. I could not be happier to be here.” He spoke with a lilt, voice husky and deep. His English was slightly accented but he spoke it perfectly.
Jude appraised him, gaze travelling up and down his lithe form. He took in Pablo’s well-shaped legs, impossibly narrow waist, luminescent skin and wild chestnut curls.
Staring at the magnificence of the creature before him was an assault to his senses.
He could not comprehend.
Why did his sister’s fiancé look like a woodland nymph whose alluring beauty made Jude want to kneel down at his feet in worship?