#there is ATLEAST three layers there but i suspect four

[frnkiebby]

oh okay yeah yep mmhmm~🎃

[punk-in-docs]

Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth, Chapter 3.

TITLE: Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth. CHAPTER NO: Chapter Three SYNOPSIS: Tom Hiddleston AU Love story - Set in the Victorian Era… Circa 1858 to be precise… AUTHOR:@punk-in-docs 
AO3 LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4108306?view_full_work=true

Mrs Sharpes nasally tone brought Elizabeth back down from heaven, which she found she was drifting away too as she lost herself in Sir Thomas’s absolutely glittering eyes. She swallowed and averted her eyes, flexing her hands nervously as she looked south to the floor. Sir Richard noticed with reverent glee, and the smile on his lips grew as he watched as Libby looked down, and still Sir Thomas did not take his eyes away from cliinging to her face.

He didn’t know why Araminta constantly complained and fussed about it, this matchmaking lark was ridiculously easy buisness. Well, to him, it was anyway.

“Well, shall we all move into the front parlour? I daresay we shan’t be standing in the hallway all evening..”

The elder woman chuckled, noticing her voice seemed to jolt the pair back down to earth as they were lost in one anothers blue eyed gazes. Watching as she started through the doorway to see that Sir Thomas offered Elizabeth his arm, which she genteely took with a smile, as they started through the door themselves. Sir Thomas tried not to let the brush of her emerald silk clad arm gliding along his skin become as erotic as his mind was making it.

Elizabeths mouth suddenly felt woolly, and sticky, as if she had imbibed a mouthful of very dry biscuits, leaving her mouth quite parched, and she was very aware that the Duke was staring at her with a small amused smile as she licked her lips and remembered the etiquette of the day, and her bone bred debutuante manners. And the fact that a Proper young lady ought never to steer the conversation where others, especially a gentleman, could not follow. ‘Nor should she flounder ridiculously in tentative shyness, that is most unbecoming when in the presence of a gentleman’ She remembered how Aramainta had once screeched that instruction at her.

“Are you partial to London, your lordship?”

She stuttered out finally, turning to him and watching as he smiled, those wonderful eyes looking deep into her own. They shone in pure amusement back at her, watching as even his smile seemed to render her into a stammering girl. He rather liked that, he had never quite had that affect upon a woman before. He liked that he had it on her.

“Please, Miss Farrow, I must insist you call me Sir Thomas for the evening, I don’t wish to pull rank upon the other guests…And as for my fondness of town, I find I am enjoying it most immensely”

He smiled humbly, or atleast, he was now he had made her company. He lowered her arm as she eased her skirts out from under her, and folded her petite frame onto the blue velvet settee. The other was clasped behind his back, making him take on a very formal stance as he smiled down at her. Looking up at him from her sitting state, she found her eyes fought not to slide rudely up his jaw, marvelling at how perfectly built it seemed to be, he had an otherwordly breed of handsome she had never been gifted enough to have seen before. It really did render her quite weak and stupid, and that, she bristled was two things which she never wanted to be. She’d leave those attributes to Mrs Sharpe and Felicity….

She then smiled at his words as she fixed her green skirts so they layered out perfectly under her, causing her no distress.

“I pray you will not voice that notion to my stepmother, she would find the concept of such a thing highly incomprehensible indeed. To her, I fear she believes that station and rank are among the two things in life of which one can be absolutely certain of.”

She smiled. Her initial shyness and absolute striking weakness that his handsome looks left her in, was dissapating now, or, As Mrs Sharpe liked to call it, ‘The true lady, the real Elizabeth, starts to creep out from her reclusive shell…’

She watched as Sir Thomas smiled, nearly laughing at her comment, easing himself down onto the armchair near Elizabeth at Araminta’s insistance. Before she announced she was off to the kitchen to check upon the souffles, as she got to the door, it would take a stupid man not to see how she jerked her head, encouraging her husband to flee the room also. Which he rolled his eyes, abiding to his wifes request. Slipping out of the door after her, leaving the newly enraptured couple quite alone. Sir Thomas did not pay this matter one jot of his attention, he was far too taken up with Elizabeth. And Libby, became very aware that she had been left alone in the front parlour with a very Handsome Duke. Sir Thomas noticed too, a wry smile on his lips before he looked back to Miss Farrow and continued the conversation to ease the tension in the air.

“Pray tell me, Miss Farrow. What is the second thing, which one may be so adament about in life?”

He asked, leaning against the arm of the chair to sway ever so slightly closer in her direction, looking enraptured. It was a small, inconsequential little move, but it made her smile even so.

“You really care to know? I’m afraid a man of your calibre would find it unspeakably dull.”

She asked, a slight tease to her voice. Her smile making his insides turn quite warm. But on her, teasing wasn’t as direputably flirty as it could have been. It was jovial. Delightful, even. And he soon found that all the ravings about London he had been privy to amongst society mama’s and some of the men whom he was aqquainted with, were quite right. Her eyes really were ‘quite enchanting.’

“I shall bare my teeth down through the banality of it all..” He promised, hand going to clutch at his heart dramatically as he smiled.

“The second thing every young Miss ought to be sure of, is that she can never do her complexion any harm in a gown of lavender chiffon…” She smiled

Elizabeth then learned what Sir Thomas’s husky and divine laugh was like. And it was music to her ears. She smiled watching him laugh at her.

“Well. I shall be certain to remember that useful morsel of information, Miss Farrow. I oft find that when my niece asks for my opinions on gowns, I am decidedly left with little judgement to offload upon her.” He smiled.

“You have a niece? Have you a brother or a sister, Sir Thomas?”

She asked. Ignoring the little gnat like voice at the back of her head that was Felicity earlier asking if Mr Burke, or The Duke had any younger brothers she could interpose herself upon.

“A Sister, Iris. Iris Thatcher Kenworthy, She is my twin Sister. And she has two girls, who I am not ashamed to say, I spoil quite rotten with gifts and such like. There is Edith who is 16, and Judith who is 5.” He beamed.

“They are lovely names, and ages too. Does your sister not care for town? I daresay it would do you well to keep Edith a secret, for if my stepmother gets wind of a gently bred country girl who has not yet been to town, she would quite wish to take her under her wing…”

She added in a hushed voice. She suddenly had a mad thought that if he spoiled his nieces rotten, how heavenly would he be liable to treat his own wife? She had not been spoiled much in her four and twenty years of life. Yet she rather favoured that it must be quite nice to be lavished upon with gifts with no such occasion as to them other than devotion and doting affection.

“My sister was widowed four years ago, I’m afraid coming to town, for her, is not quite as pleasurable as it once was. It brings back rather bitter memories as I understand.” He spoke solemnly.

“Oh, I most aggrieved to hear it. I am terribly sorry, you must accept my deepest sympathies for your sister.”

She spoke, her brows drawing together in pain, eyes soaking in sad understanding. Which made Sir Thomas smile all the more, she truly was a magnificent creature.

Elizabeth wanted to reach out and clasp his hand to express her sympathies, but she feared that would be far too forward, and tantamount to scandal should Araminta flounce back in and see her openly caressing a man she had only known for ten minutes – if that. Even if it was only touching his hand… Gossip could spread like wildfire, and she didn’t need her name being bandied around London as the biggest flirt of the season. Her previous good natured reputation could be in tatters by the morning.

“Bless you, Miss Farrow. You are far too kind.” He smiled, because he really did mean it.

“I lost my own mother when I was 16. It is a hardship of unspeakable misfortune. But I imagine, as you have informed me, your spoiling them rotten would make you a most beloved Uncle…”

She smiled. Her sense of prediction remarkably on point. They did adore him, to the moon and back. They could not be more grateful to him for extending his home to them, being unfailingly kind to all three of the Thatcher-Kenworthy ladies, he was under no obligations to do so, he just had a big heart, and wanted to be there for his family. Especially after his experiences in the war.

“I am a poor subsitute for their father. That much I know, but I believe I make do in helping out Iris rather nicely.”

He spoke humbly, in a diffident manner that she was just willing to bet, Iris Thatcher-Kenworthy would kindly confirm him to be too modest for his own good, if Libby so lucky ever to have the opportunity to meet her.

“Still, I bet your neices dote upon you something fiercely wicked, Sir Thomas.” She smiled. Folding her hands in her emerald green lap.

He smiled, accepting her compliment by inclining his head in a tiled nod.

“I suspect you are quite possibly correct, Miss.” He grinned.

“Are you to remain in town long?” She asked thoughtfully. He knew she was bred to not ask impersonal or impolite questions.

“My buisness in town is sadly coming to an end, but, I think I may have found reason tonight, to extend it.”

He smiled, his eyes burning deep into her own again in a way that made her flush. He watched as a sweep of redness swept easily and very obviously across her pale skin, down her supple, slender neck and finishing the race at her heaving chest. Of which the neck of the gown bared rather elegantly, her corseted bodice doing her a great number of favours, as he could see the ample fullness of her bosom pushed up high by the restricted space inside her dress. Elizabeth simply knew that the pointed meaning behind his statement was him starting to prevail mutual attraction upon her, he would stay in town just to better make her aqquaintance. The way his eyes were boring deep into her told her that he had not meant to stay for any other reason than to get to know her.

Her lips gaped, and she tried to remember how to converse politely with someone of the opposite sex. But his eyes and the way they were wandering across her lips and her face made the task a truly hard measure, indeed.

“Sir Thomas.. I..”

She began, taking deep breaths, through a small gaped smile, hand nervously touching the side of her neck which felt quite hot all of a sudden. Oh, how he longed to follow the path where her fingers touched now with his lips, to be rewarded with one of her tiny gasps of moaning desire. He was willing to bet her cherry pink lips would part beautifully when she sighed through them, his name the only thing on her tongue…

“If you’ll permit me, Miss Farrow. You must allow me to tell you how ravishing and lovely you look in emerald green. A absolute vision.” He rasped, his smile reaching her eyes as quite the lovliest and most seductive thing she had ever seen.

At this point, Elizabeth heard a commotion in the hallway, and as she heard the strict familiar tone of one Sir Cecil Burke, and one Marcus Burke erupt in the hallway, greeting her parents not long after.

She flew from her seat like a shot, like she had been burned. Almost as if she and Sir Thomas were engaged in an act that was considered the height of impropriety. Yet they weren’t, they were merely talking. Yet still she found this was enough to leave her pulasting with silliness of the most female kind, and desperately wanting to kiss the handsome smile away from the Duke’s lips.

Sir Thomas rose to his feet along with her, seeing she looked a little unsettled.

“Madam, please accept my utmost sincere apologies if my earlier compliment was received with alarm. I would wish no such grievance upon you, please forgive me.” He began to gabble, fearing he had let his desire for her overwhelm her in his words.

Elizabeth smiled, quickly.

“The compliment was lovely, Sir Thomas. Quite the loveliest I have ever been given. Understand me when I say I didn’t receive it poorly at all. Only, I fear your stay in town may be deemed an unjust and unmerited venture. For, currently, I am already receiving the attentions of another gentleman.” She spoke quietly. Looking down to the floor, before she met his eyes again. She felt ashamed, leading on one gentleman, when she was already accepting the affections of another. What must he think of me now? Elizabeth panicked. He must have now think she was a flirt of the highest order.

“But you must believe me to be so bold as to say I wish now more than ever, that this was not the case.” She hushed quietly. Chewing her lip as she looked at him with sadness in her eyes.

“You are to be imminently betrothed to Mr Burke?” He asked gently.

She nodded. Swallowing in nervousness.

“Do you, confirm, his, mutual attraction, to you?” He asked, lowly.

She blinked, staying still for a second, before her resolve crumbled.

She shook her head.

“Has he asked yet, for your hand in marriage?”

Again, she shook her head. But this time she also let a low and whispered

“No.” crack from inbetween her lovely lips.

She watched as he smiled.

“Then, in which case my dear, it would be unremittingly foolish of me to not give Burke a run for his money.” He smiled, one regal brow tipping back up his forehead in amusement.

“You, wish to, court me also?” She asked.

Again, came that foxes grin.

“Oh yes.”

He purred, and they were stood far closer than should be appropriate now. But neither one of them cared one bit that they were posed as such.

“With your blessing, Miss Elizabeth. I will take it upon myself to make more social visits To the Farrow Household in the coming days, if you would care to receive me, and my attentions.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Very much so.”

She gabbled, voice racing and her heart pounding. Knowing she was being unfailingly unkind to Mr Burke’s wishes. But, she realised when she first laid eyes on Sir Thomas Kenworthy, that now, she could never settle for a bland man such as Marcus Burke, because her heart had been truly stirred by the Duke of Chatsworth, and she found that was something she could not easily recover from or push aside. She was too much of a romantic to deny herself the feelings of true love when it fell right into her lap, here, in her very own home.

“Mr Burke is, I think, you should know. Not a kind man. I do not think this news will find him well.” She whispered in trepidation.

“Has he ever had the utter indecency to mistreat you, Miss Farrow?” Sir Thomas asked, eyes turning positively frosty at the notion of such.

“..And may I just say, if he has, then I can only apologise on behalf of my gender..”

He offered. Feeling utterly tense now he thought about this vision of loveliness being mistreated by a man’s rough hands and brute strength that outweighed her delicate nature.

“I have found out during our courting, that drink makes wicked monsters of men.” She eluded.

He felt his fists clench by his sides.

She took a couple of tiny steps away from Sir Thomas’s heat radiating form, which she was being pulled closer too, like the pull of gravity. Just in time for the rest of their party to cross back over the threshold and spot them both, stood in the parlour a respectable distance away from each other. But their romantic profession mere moments ago was not quite as decent as it ought have been.

Elizabeth turned and smiled nicely just as Marcus and Cecil Burke glided through the doorway, Marcus’s eyes heading straight for Elizabeth. It would have taken a idiot of elephantine proportions to not notice how Marcus had little care to how his lecherous eyes hungered over Elizabeth’s figure. Clinging to her behind, and straying for a long moment on her amply proportioned bosom.

Sir Thomas Kenworthy noticed this. And it made his blood boil in his veins, and his hands screw into tight fists of balled muscle as he clasped them out of sight behind his back. Jaw scrunched tight as he tried not to glare at this oaf of a man who did not know hide nor hair of how to treat a woman as exquisite as the one who stood next to him.

Thomas watched as the man crossed to Elizabeth, smile and stance reeking of toxic bachelors arrogance as he walked across to her. Stopping and bowing in front of her, which she returned. Curtseying politely before he took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. Eyes curving up to meet hers, and she then found that she didn’t like the colour of Marcus Burkes eyes anymore, she rather found she favoured Thomas Kenworthy’s chipped ice blue eyes far more now, instead…. Especially now that Mr Burkes eyes shone maliciously dark at her.

“You look enchanting, as always, Miss Farrow. A veritable picture of pure loveliness…” He winked. In a manner most forward.

If Sir Thomas got angry at the way in which he could see another mans lips pressed to her skin, then the wink just about made him see red.

“Who is your… Friend?.”

Burke asked Elizabeth, the way in which he spat ‘friend’ was enough to show that he would not take kindly to Thomas one bit, raising a lofty brow at the man who towered over him. Burke may have had stocky muscles and the obvious brute strength that came with such, But Sir Thomas had all the sinew and lean muscle that accompanied that of his towering height of six foot four. He was thinner in build to look at, But thinking him powerless would be a absolutely dreadful mistake.

“Marcus Burke, May I introduce Sir Thomas Kenworthy, the resident Duke of Chatsworth.”

Elizabeth formerly greeted. Watching as the two men glared slightly at one another, giving no movement but a brisk bow that was barely a lukewarm gesture of civility. The two men surveyed each other with frost and ice in their gazes.

“A Duke, eh? Large estate out in the country I take it. Must be a large demanding business to attend to.”

Burke said drily, words like a double edged blade. Thomas couldn’t quite decipher his meaning, or the intentions behind his statement.

“It keeps me occupied.”

Thomas finished tersely. A smile flickering across his lips so that no one could fault him for being unkind. If the man extended niceties, then so would he. If he was going to act in a manner of sheer rudeness to him. Then Sir Thomas would mirror whatever sentiment Burke cared to fend him off with. He would not kill the man with kindness as he was being rebuffed, but nor would he sneer at him, like Burke was doing to him. He was enough of a kind man to atleast not be rude.

And he was quickly deciding that Marcus Burke could not be the man to shackle the wonderful Miss Farrow into marriage. His character was poison, his manner crass and the way he held himself suggested he considered his position in society so great, it allowed him to look down his nose upon everyone below him. Whilst there was spirit in his body, and breath in his lungs, Sir Thomas would not let Marcus Burke wriggle his way into marrying the woman next to him. Because he would treat her no better than a pet, a trophy. And he would not allow himself to account for Miss Farrow to be kept miserably in holy matrimony, bound to the man as an object for him to paw over, and to do nothing but slake Burke’s lust, and produce their next heir. – Over his dead body, would he allow that to happen. She didn’t deserve that. And he had only made Burke’s acquaintance a mere second ago. Already he loathed the man.

“May I ask as to why you are in London when you have such pressing matters in the country, your highness?..” Burke started, his tone mocking the Duke. Not caring for the way in which he seemed to be standing over Miss Farrow as if he had any right too.

Elizabeth cast a weary glance over Burke’s shoulder to see that Her Father, and Mrs Sharpe were indeed clustered by the doorway, speaking to the portly man that was Cecil Burke. Elizabeth would be hard pressed as to enquire where Marcus’s good looks came from. Because he certainly didn’t inherit them from his father. Cecil Burke was a short, stout man. With fat chubby legs and arms, and whatever his waistcoat, it always sought to bulge under the voluptuous weight of his protruding stomach. His face and neck were also fat and bulging, his chin and cheeks flabby, and his lips rubbery and wide as he leered at something her father said. Still, Libby noted there was little to no love in the man’s dark eyes. Just greed. Greed and a lust for bettering his son, and the family business. So long as it gained him money.

“No need for the formal titles, Mr Burke. Just Sir Thomas will do.” The Duke growled with little patience.

Burke narrowed his eyes.

“Playing poor to appease us simple folk for the evening are we, Sire?” Burke glared.

Sir Thomas raised his head. Silent scathing look which was virtually deadly on his handsome features. His nails now biting into his hand he was clenching his fist so tight. And imagining how lovely it would be to plant his fist smack bang into Burke’s nose.

Elizabeth felt the need to step in and interject herself somewhat, before things took a turn for the uncivil.

“Mr Burke, Sir Thomas is a business associate of my fathers. He helps keep books for Sir Thomas’s estate in Derbyshire.”

Elizabeth added, a slight bite to her voice that warned Burke that he should try getting along with Sir Thomas, or this evening was going to be an awfully long one, for her. Not to mention the fact that Mrs Sharpe would slaughter him if she found out about his upright rudeness to the Duke.

She was aghast that Mr Burke was managing to be so rude to Sir Thomas. The man had done nothing but stand next to her. She was only all too glad that he hadn’t yet found out that Sir Thomas had expressed to her a wish of intending to court her also.

“I see.” Burke bit off blandly.

“Yes, My business has, sadly concluded, but I think I should like to remain in town for much longer now it has. With my work finalised, I may now turn my attention for far more leisurely pastimes. Who knows what agreeable events may unfold.”

Sir Thomas spoke pointedly making sure to look Burke right in the eyes, before his gaze roved off to flicker towards Elizabeth, keeping eye contact with her for a second.

She was sure her brain had intended for speech to come sailing out of her mouth, but all that seemed to surface instead, was a slight squeak. Lips gaping, but no sound coming from in-between them. As she held the Duke’s gaze.

Burke’s teeth looked like his jaw would soon grind them to dust.

It was at this point that Hawkins swiftly entered the room, and thereafter declared that Dinner was to be served.

Sir Thomas smiled, looking at Burke’s gritted jaw before he turned to the woman stood at his side.

“Miss Farrow.” He burst out loudly.

“As highest ranking gentleman in the room…”

He heard Burke grumble deep down in his chest with displeasure. Sir Thomas carried on, poking the proverbial bear with a stick.

“.. and subsequently as you are an unmarried female, may I request the pleasure of escorting you through to the Dining room, as social norm dictates I must?” He asked, a smile gripping his lips in a wide beam as he swares he heard Burke growl louder at the back of his throat.

Both Elizabeth and Sir Thomas watched as Marcus Burke’s hands clenched into balled fists, frowning at the man who was growling and snarling like a rabid animal.

“Perhaps Mr Burke could use the opportunity to moisten his parched throat with a drink…”

Sir Thomas thought aloud in pure taunting as he walked off with Elizabeth hooked to his arm. Glaring with a smile over his shoulder at Burke who was turning a lovely angered shade of tomato red.

The sight, to Sir Thomas, was quite the best thing he had ever seen.

Elizabeth kept quiet whilst they passed her father, who smiled rather too widely for Elizabeth’s liking. And Mrs Sharpe, who also smiled, yet wondered why Marcus Burke was a tense as a coiled spring, and as red as a crimson rose. She inclined her head politely to Cecil Burke who gave her and the Duke a fleeting smile. Wondering why his inadequate lump of a son was not the man escorting the red headed chit into the dining room.

They got out into the hall, curving round the corner to walk down another hallway into the large dining room that overlooked the orangery and the garden. The candles were lit on the table, making the silver cutlery glint with flickering sparkles as it lay neatly arranged on the walnut polished table.

“Sir Thomas, I’d no idea a gentleman like you could be so wicked.” Elizabeth stated with a tiny pleased smile as they continued to walk.

Sir Thomas quelled the little satanic voice in his head that leered ‘Oh, you have no idea, Elizabeth’ as his eyes roved over the delicate cross of her collarbone, housed under creamy pale skin, that he wanted to worship with tongue and teeth to make her moan. He wanted to show her how a gentleman would treat a lady. and oh, how well he would treat her.

“It was worth it to see his face tint redder than a strawberry, wouldn’t you say, Miss Farrow?”

He smiled naughtily, close into her ear, leering close to her supple neck that he also wanted to do wicked things too.

She tried to fight her smile, but Lord and Heaven help her, a smile broke the surface of her pursed lips as she suppressed a quiet titter of laughter.

“It was, I grant you, ever so slightly satisfactory..” She laughed.

Sir Thomas smiled looking at her then. She had a lovely laugh, and he wanted to devote his entire life to helping her better use it. A man such as Burke, never would.

“Imagine his face when he finds you and I are to be seated together at Dinner. I rather wager we shall be treated to the sight of steam pouring out of his ears.” He added in a devilish smile that was too roguishly handsome to be true, she discovered.

Elizabeth’s smile grew until she had to bite her lip to try and stave its ferocity. And then because the image was just so ridiculous, she laughed. She couldn’t not laugh. A man as rotten as Burke would never ensure she had a life filled with laughter and love, like he would.

“I fear he will be veritably purple by the time the night is through.” She offered.

“He will be if I proceed to make you smile that enchanting smile of yours all throughout Dinner.” Sir Thomas grinned, looking down to her as she turned and caught his eyes.

“Are we quite the most awful people in the whole of London to find hilarity in one man’s misfortune?” She asked him.

Sir Thomas smiled.

“Maybe… Yes.”

He granted with a nod as they came to the Dining table, seeing name cards had been placed in front of each setting, and neither of them were surprised to find they were smack bang next to each other. Fate was being a very kind mistress to the couple, this evening, indeed.

Fate, or more likely, the calculating talents of Mrs Sharpe, Elizabeth thought.

She watched as Sir Thomas dutifully pulled a chair out for her to sit down onto. Smiling as she folded her skirts out of the way and continued allowing the Duke to woo her.

“But, I daresay, Miss Farrow, that as I have heard you are quite the sweetest dispositioned woman this side of Grosvenor Square, and I, myself being oft remarked to to have a similar temperament, then two gentle souls, such as ourselves, should take solace in the fact that a little harmless enjoyment now and then, never hurt anyone..” He smiled wickedly.

Elizabeth found that she was becoming more and more susceptible to his charming smile…

~