Lady Bethany De Vere was eighteen, of an age to be presented at court and married but still three years short of her legal majority. Until her twenty-first birthday, her estates were to be administered by her guardian - who happened to be, well me. The Duke of Halstead, confirmed bachelor, infamous rake and warden of the loveliest heiresses of the season.
When I was in town, I liked to see her to bed, upholding my responsibilities as the keeper of her virtue.
The young lady and her governess, Miss Banks, were taking their late night cocoa in the blue parlour when I arrived. Lady Bethany was reading unhappily aloud from a book of sermons and Miss Banks was knitting some hideous orange concoction - I hoped it was not to end up as a Christmas gift for me.
I waved them down when they started to stand up for me. "No need for ceremony," I told them. "Bethany, the hour grows late you should be in bed by now."
She pouted, she didn't like to be reminded that she wasn't "out" yet. She would be in a few weeks but until then it was bed by ten, no after-supper theatres and balls until dawn for her.
"Yes of course, Your Grace," Miss Banks said, quite flustered. "I hadn't noticed the time." She ushered her charge into the adjoining bedchamber and naturally, as the girl's guardian, I followed. The pert and pretty French maid, Therese - hand-picked by me - was waiting to attend to the young mistress's toilette.
"Ignore me," I said, settling myself comfortably in an armchair in full view of the proceedings. "I'll read until Bethany is ready to say her prayers. It does me good to hear them."
Therese helped Bethany off with her jewellery, unbraided her hair and brushed it the expected hundred times until it snapped and crackled down her back like molten gold. It was then braided again and tucked under a lace-trimmed nightcap. Then, my favourite part, undressing my pretty little heiress.
Bethany would have much preferred to undress in private or behind the screen, but Miss Banks and Therese were in my pocket. They insisted that it was completely natural that I be present while she was stripped naked - after all, I was as close to a father as the orphaned waif had left. She was reluctant but her bossy governess and her lady's maid were the main forces in her life and she allowed herself to be half-heartedly convinced.
In the fashion of our times, Bethany wore an empire-waisted Grecian gown of white muslin. Therese unlaced the back and helped her step out of it. The next layer was the petticoat, chemise and stays. Stays unlaced, the girl breathed a sigh of relief, almost forgetting her embarrassment as her petticoat was untied. Her chemise came down to her knees and underneath she wore a bold pair of bright green silk stockings, held up by white lace garters.
Therese knelt to untie her garters and pull off her stockings and then it was only lovely Bethany in her chemise of the finest cambric linen. In the soft candlelight, she was almost naked before my eyes, the fullness of her high young breasts and the slimness of her nubile body apparent under the delicate fabric.
