Page 98 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke
“Good morning, please bring some hot water to my room. I want to have a warm bath,” William told him.
The man nodded and walked briskly away. William went back into this room and sat on his bed. He would use today for swordsmanship training. He wasn’t going anywhere that day. He was still thinking when the steward came in with hot water in a kettle. He walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open, giving William a view of what he was doing. The steward poured the water into the bucket and mixed in much colder water. He kept putting his finger into the mixture and then he dipped it and allowed his finger stay a bit longer in it before bringing it out. He turned back to William.
“Your water is ready, Mr. William,” the steward said.
“Thank you,” William replied him.
The steward picked the kettle and walked out of the room. William went into the bathroom and had a bath. As he came out he walked straight to his wardrobe, he picked the first shirt and breech he saw and wore them. Then he went in front of the mirror and picked the hair brush. His hair was wet and ruffled, the water increasing the lustre of its golden strands even more; William was tempted to leave it that way.
For just today.
But he couldn’t drop the brush, the temptation to try something new paled against disappointment his untidiness could bring. He brushed his hair backwards. Each previously disruptive strand obeyed the bristles of the brush, layering over each other backwards. When he was done, his hair had a wavy texture reminding him of the flowing nature of Joane’s blond hair.
Her hair is just like mine, blonde and flowing.
“She would just be getting out of bed now,” he soliloquized.
Warmth bloomed within him; just the thought of her hair was enough to get him longing for her body. His crotch bulged against his trousers, causing a dull pain in its futile struggle against the fabric’s rigid envelope.
I need to have her. I can hardly take the want anymore.
William knew he had to get her to offer herself to him again; he could not take her without her consent. A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.
“Yes, who is there?” William said.
The door opened, letting in Lord James.
“You know you could just have said your name,” William told him.
Lord James laughed.
“Good morning, a bit early for playful banter, isn’t it? The rest of the family is at the table, a steward was sent to call me and you. Are you eating with them?”
“Yes, I will,” William answered. “I’m done, let’s go together.”
Lord James waited at the door as William dropped the brush and checked his hair one last time. Satisfied, he walked out of the room, allowing his friend to close the door behind them. He walked quickly, getting to the dining room before Lord James.
“He’s up.”
William saw his mother raise her head to look at him. His father’s eyes were already on him, he had alerted the rest of them on the table of William’s presence.
“Yes, I am father. Good morning,” William said.
He took his position on his father’s right, Lord James sat beside him. Huge loaves of bread had already been served on plates, a jug sat in the middle of the table.
“I take it, that’s tea mother,” he said.
“I am not the cook but yes, tea in one and orange juice in the other. You could have pancakes instead of bread. There they are towards your father,” she said.
She is happy today, no cynical comments, no investigative questions.
William nodded and shifted the plate of bread away from him. He stretched to draw the bigger plate where the pancakes were when footsteps had him looking up. It was Regina.
She is uncharacteristically late to the table today.
“Forgive my belatedness family, I had to see to some important affairs,” she said.
The meal was quiet after that, which was strange. Meal times were when his family discussed issues of the greatest important, which was the reason why he avoided meals recently. When William finished eating, he nudged Lord James’ on his lap, speeding him up. His mother cleared her throat immediately he did that.
