Victoria shut her bedroom door and panted just a little. She had become so worked up with her Lord M that she felt like she was burning alive. She tingled from head to toe, and she was so wet between her legs that she could feel the dampness in her drawers. She turned the lock on the bedroom door and hustled over to the chair in the corner of the room. She sat down and instinctively hiked up her skirts and petticoats around her waist. She put her fingers to her open drawers and wormed them inside the fabric.

Lord M had told her that she could caress herself with her fingers until she found her pleasure. Victoria wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but her body told her to drag her fingertips over one specific place - the small, sensitive area at the anterior of her womanhood. She was swollen and throbbing there; it was begging for attention. Victoria circled her fingertips around the nub and gasped. Her movements were lubricated by how wet she'd become, and she realised she'd never felt real arousal like this.

"Lord M," she whispered, and she shut her eyes. She imagined him kissing her against the tree. She pictured him on horseback, smirking at her as she said something he found amusing. She moved her fingers again, more deeply and more quickly, and she felt a sudden urge to poke her fingers into her entrance. She did as her body commanded, curling her fingertips and using her thumb to rub at her most sensitive place. She gasped again, for it felt so good, and she could feel her body going tight and hot.

Lord Melbourne flooded her mind. His face in the warm candlelight at dinner. Him laughing jovially as she showed him a watercolour of Dash that hadn't turned out right. Him genuflecting, bowing, kissing her hand, kissing her lips. Everything about him drove Victoria mad with want, and she could feel her body searing for him.

Her nipples were erect and puckered beneath her corset, and the feel of the material on them just heightened Victoria's excitement. She took a deep breath and felt the fabric graze her nipples, and she moaned softly. Between her legs, she felt more swollen than ever; she could feel her pulse beneath her fingers on her womanhood. She was drizzling wet now, and as she slid her fingers back and forth and rubbed her thumb in a circle on her nub, she huffed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"Lord M," she groaned, her heart speeding up and her breath quickening in shallow pants. Her fingers trembled on her quim, and then suddenly everything seemed to explode like cannon fire. She felt the walls of her womanhood contracting and pulsing around her fingers, tightening in arrhythmic cinches. Victoria's ears went hot and rang, and she saw spots behind her closed eyes. She was suddenly overcome with an immense pleasurable sensation, a feeling of great satisfaction. The perception of closure told Victoria that this was the peak; this was what Lord M had meant about finding her pleasure.

She pulled her hands away when she started to come down from her high. Her heart rate slowed down considerably and her breath steadied in her lungs. She blinked quickly and felt a bit sweaty where she sat. She needed to write to him, she thought. She needed him to come back to her so she could tell him all about this. He needed to know what she'd felt. He needed to know what she'd done to herself.

Victoria rose and went to the wash basin, carefully scrubbing her hands. She arranged her skirts more neatly about herself and then walked out into her office. She sat at her desk and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, which she dipped into ink.

Dear Lord M, she wrote, Come tomorrow. I need to speak with you. It was everything you'd said and more. - Victoria R.

My dearest niece,

I hope, now that you have settled into your role as Queen, you can understand the urgency of marriage. A woman on the throne requires a husband for many reasons - companionship, guidance, and, of course, to produce an heir to the throne. It is of utmost importance that you begin to receive suitors soon. You know that I favour your cousin Albert. He is of very sound mind and serious countenance and would, I think, make a wonderful husband for you. Receive him in your Court and see again for yourself. You will find him amenable, I know.

I care for you deeply, my dear niece, and I worry that the longer you rule on your own, the more time is wasted. You must find a husband quickly so that you are not alone, so very small sitting atop such a massive throne. Your people agree with me, I am certain. Your Lord Melbourne will not always be there to guide you.

Your most adoring uncle,

Leopold, King of the Belgians

Victoria crumpled the letter in her hand and tossed it into the rubbish pin. She pinched her lips and huffed a breath, pulling out a sheet of paper and dipping her pen into ink.

My dear Uncle,

I feel there is absolutely no rush in me taking a husband. After all, I am only eighteen years old and have not yet held my Coronation ceremonies. And, as it happens, Uncle, it may be that I never marry, for I find that I am quite suited to reigning on my own. As regards Lord Melbourne - he is the fiercest ally I could hope to have in a Prime Minister. I pray his tenure continues on for a good long while, and that even after he leaves office, he continues to be my friend. I have no need of a prince to 'guide' me, nor do I lack for companionship.

I appreciate your concerns. Really, Uncle, I do appreciate them. But I ask that you kindly stay out of the affairs of the British Crown, for I am more than capable of determining my own future.

Your niece,

Victoria R.

"The Right Honourable Lord Melbourne."

Victoria looked up to see that Melbourne was walking into her office. She sighed as he bowed, as the door shut behind him.

"Lord M," she said testily. "Do come here."

"Your Majesty," he said carefully. "Something troubles you this morning. You seemed in a fine mood when you wrote to me last night."

"Yes, well, I have received a most unsavoury letter from my Uncle Leopold," Victoria complained, "but no matter; I have written back insisting that a quick marriage is not only unnecessary but undesirable."

"Is it, Ma'am?"

"I mean to stay unwed," she said firmly, "for my attentions are turned to…"

To you. She trailed off and let the unspoken words hang in the air. Melbourne's eyes warmed, and he asked quietly,

"Did you find yourself pleased yesterday, Ma'am?"

"I had no idea it was possible," she whispered, rising from her desk. She walked over to him and put her hands on his chest. "I thought of you - only of you, extensively of you - and I drove myself into such a frenzy. And then it all culminated in this great satisfactory burst, and I…"

"Oh, Ma'am." Melbourne took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. "I am very glad you felt everything your body allows you to feel."

"It would have been so much better if you'd been there with me," Victoria hummed. Melbourne gulped and touched his forehead to hers.

"The news has spread that you've sent your mother and Sir John and Lady Flora away from Court," he said. "You can expect negative press. I would advise attending the theatre tonight, so that people see your face and are reminded of how they love their young Queen."

"The theatre." Victoria grinned. "Yes. What shall we see?"

"We?" Melbourne smirked. "Is that your way of inviting me?"

"You'll sit in my box," Victoria told him. "Beside me."

"Ma'am," Melbourne said carefully, pulling back. He sighed. "What is this?"

"What is what?" Victoria demanded. Melbourne's eyes went a little wet, and he shrugged.

"Kissing. Touching. Great affection, at least from my end. What is the goal of all this?"

Victoria hesitated, and then she said softly, "All I know is that I long for you. For the physical, of course, but also for time with you. I wish to be alone, like Queen Elizabeth, for I can not stand the thought of marrying someone else and leaving you behind."

"Queen Elizabeth was not alone." Melbourne raised his brows. "She had companions. Men who… who had lost their wives. They were not in a position to marry her, for, as you know, a Queen must marry within royalty."

"Yes. I know. You and I could never… I could never…"

"No, Ma'am, we could never…"

They both trailed off into a heavy silence, and then Melbourne huffed a solid breath and folded his hands before him.

"Leicester was Queen Elizabeth's favourite. They were… quite close, despite their inability to wed."

"Her favourite," Victoria repeated. "I've heard the term. My uncle had favourites. So did my grandfather."

"Yes. The favourite is the companion of the monarch. The two of them might ride out together, spend evenings alone, and even… be physical." Melbourne's face went red. Victoria sighed shakily.

"You are my favourite."

"I think that's been true for a few months, whether either of us has wanted to admit it, Ma'am," said Melbourne quietly. "I have certainly served the role."

"Then carry on serving in that capacity," Victoria insisted. "I shall be Elizabeth, and you my Leicester."

"No, Ma'am." Melbourne took her face in his hands and bent to kiss her carefully. "You are Queen Victoria, and I am your Lord M."

Victoria was helped into her carriage, which was on its way to the Royal Opera House. Emma Portman sitting opposite her, for she was the lady accompanying Victoria tonight, along with Melbourne. Emma bowed her head as Victoria settled herself. Emma was wearing a beautiful gown of silver satin, beaded around the neckline with a strand of pearls at her neck. Victoria wondered if she looked all right in midnight blue silk with sapphires. She adjusted her diamond coronet atop her head and asked Emma fretfully,

"Do you suppose he'll find me pretty tonight?"

"Oh, Your Majesty," said Emma thoughtfully, "I think he finds you inexcusably beautiful all the time."

"Have you spoken with him?" Victoria asked as the carriage started to pull away from Buckingham Palace. Emma pursed her lips and nodded.

"I warned him," she said, "not to do anything to ruin you, Ma'am. I worry. Things like that so frequently spiral out of control. And William is… he is smitten. I see it."

"Well, we have been quite cautious," Victoria informed Emma pointedly. "All he did was touch me. Through my clothes. He wouldn't even… you know, he bade me do the rest."

Emma looked abashed, and she stared out the window for a long moment. Then she turned her gaze back to Victoria and said meaningfully,

"You don't need to marry, Ma'am. You and William can make one another happy. So long as you don't wind up with child. That is the most important thing of all. But you can make one another happy. I know it. If you'd like, I can tell you some other ways to…"

"To make one another happy," Victoria whispered, and Emma puffed a breath and nodded.

"You might use your mouth upon him," Emma murmured, "and he might use his mouth on you."

"Mouths," Victoria mused. She tipped her head. "That wouldn't… you can't become with child that way?"

"No, Ma'am. In fact, it is a way many married people put space between children. By avoiding the greater act in favour of lesser endeavours. Like touching one another to the peak. Or using…"

She stopped then, looking very embarrassed.

"Please, Emma," whispered Victoria, "you've helped me so much. Please tell me."

"Candles. Things like that. But together, you know." Emma lowered her gaze and picked at her gloves.

"Candles," repeated Victoria. "What would be the purpose of… oh."

She realised that the candle would be a stand-in for the man's member. She breathed deeply and said,

"So there are many ways we might make one another happy. But how? My dressers would know if I tried to bring him into my rooms."

"Ma'am," Emma said carefully, "if he is truly your companion, your favourite, then no one will dare defy the monarch in bringing him into her rooms. There might be talk. There may be cartoons in the newspapers. But Queen Elizabeth…"

"Yes, she had Leicester," Victoria nodded urgently. "And the Kings all had mistresses. It isn't so different, is it?"

"So long as you are careful," Emma apprised. "So very careful, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Emma," said Victoria. "For your friendship and for your advice."

Soon enough they arrived at the Royal Opera House, and when the door to the carriage opened, Lord Melbourne was standing there.

"Hello, William," said Emma, and she let him help her out. He nodded and smiled at her.

"Emma."

Then he held out his hand for Victoria, and she placed her white gloved fingertips into his equally gloved palm. He looked so elegant tonight in all black, she thought. He guided her down out of the carriage, and he murmured down to her,

"You look so beautiful tonight. Regal and beautiful."

"Do you mean it?" Victoria looked up and him and realised they were still holding hands. Emma cleared her throat, and Victoria snapped to attention. She released Melbourne and strode ahead of her entourage into the opera house. A page led Victoria up to the royal box, and then he called out,

"Her Majesty, Queen Victoria!"

Victoria looked down upon the assembled audience, all of whom rose from their seats to bow and curtsy. Victoria waved and then sat as there was a smattering of applause. To her right was Lord Melbourne, and to her left was Emma Portman. Victoria sat just a little to the front, nearer the edge of the box so that she appeared prominent to the audience.

The opera was The Marriage of Figaro, one of Victoria's most beloved Mozart works. After the first act, she turned to Melbourne and said warmly,

"It is a wonderful production."

"So it is," he nodded. "Strong tenors."

"Do you sing, Lord M?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne's cheeks darkened.

"Only in my greenhouse at Brocket Hall, Ma'am."

"Oh, don't let him fool you," said Emma jovially. "I've never heard him sing, but my husband tells me that at Holland House, after more than a little whisky, William here has let out many a beautiful tune."

"You do sing!" Victoria exclaimed.

"Emma," scolded Melbourne, but Emma shrugged and insisted,

"Edward says it's true, and I believe him."

"You must sing for me," Victoria told him. Melbourne smirked and gestured about.

"What, here, Ma'am?"

"No. In private," she said quietly. Melbourne tipped his head and nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll sing for you in private."

Emma looked quite pleased with herself then as the music kicked up for the next act. Victoria kept her eyes locked with Melbourne and flashed him one last little smile before turning back to the stage. Yes, she thought. He was her favourite.

Author's Note: Once again, Leopold just has to get involved. Too bad Victoria's not up for his antics this time around. So will she really refuse to get married? Fair warning that the next chapter sees a three month skip in time, to March of 1838. If you know the history of all this, you know that's when Melbourne started planning Victoria's Coronation. ;)

Thank you so much for reading and a hundred thousand thanks for reviewing.