Author's Note:
This is a historical fanfic based on the novel "Training Lady Townsend" by Annabel Joseph. I will be taking elements from that novel to incorporate it in my fanfic which is all about ichihime. I will update the character list at the beginning of each chapter whenever a new character appears.
Character List:
•Lady Dormouse/Aurelia as Lady Orihime/Lady Kurosaki
•Lord Townsend as Kurosaki Ichigo
•Lord Warren as Uryuu Ishida/Lord Quincy
•Lord and Lady Lord and Lady Engetsu Kurosaki Isshin and Kurosaki Masaki
•Duke of Lansing/Laudable Lansing as Lord Nozarashi/Zaraki Kenpachi
•Lord August as Chad Yasutora
•Lord Arlington as Renji Abarai/Lord Zabimaru
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Bleach. That privilege goes to Tite Kubo.
Warnings: Rated m with heavy sexual content.
Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Ball
England, 1792
He would not submit.
Lady Dormouse, they called her. His reclusive bride-to-be, shy and shrinking, and by all accounts, ugly as a shrew. Why else would they have kept her so carefully hidden away? Lady Orihime happened to be the niece to a very influential and powerful Duke known as the Duke of Nozarashi which was the only reason she was the ton's most coveted marriage prospect.
But not coveted by him. Ichigo didn't care that her uncle owned half the countryside around London, or that he controlled a vast swath of society's brightest statesmen, or that he was King Yamamoto's most favored noble companion. Ichigo didn't want to wed Lady Dormouse. Hell, he didn't want to marry anyone, but he'd just discovered this damned ball was a betrothal ball, arranged by his own father and mother Lord and Lady Engetsu. One day back from a two-week orgy of dissolution at his country estate, to be confronted with a betrothal?
Damn and blast.
His three partners in crime smirked at him from across the ballroom, bemused by his predicament. They wouldn't find it amusing when he was setting up house with a dull stick of a wife, holding tea parties and formal dinners rather than raunchy routs. Thousands of candles illuminated a sickening swirl of silk gowns, bouncing curls, and sleek-coated men bowing every which way. He'd been instructed to dance with Orihime at least twice, but he'd be damned if he remembered what she looked like.
He could name every courtesan, actress, and ladybird in London by first and last name, hair and eye color, but he hadn't seen his betrothed in over a decade. He'd had better things to do. Ichigo Kurosaki Marquess of Zangetsu, was a man of the world, wealthy and powerful in his own right. He was a man of strong will and stronger appetites, as evidenced by the previous weeks' unprecedented descent into debauchery.
But if he must be betrothed this night, as his father had thundered, he would be betrothed on his own terms, for no one, no one, pressed the Marquess of Zangetsu's hand. If he was to spend a lifetime in marital agony, it would be to a woman of his own choosing, family promises be damned. He hadn't made the blasted promises, but sat silently by when, as a boy of fourteen, he'd been betrothed to the neighboring duke's daughter, a girl of four.
Ridiculous.
Why, he barely remembered the formal event or the dinner that followed, except that it was extremely uncomfortable. He recalled two pretty light big gray eyes staring at him, and a mop of stringy, fiery hair. He remembered they'd taken his betrothed away before dinner, for the nursery.
It had seemed as stupid to him then as it seemed now, but they'd both had the misfortune to be born to high-ranking dukes, and thus become pawns in a game of alliances. This marriage, his father insisted, would guarantee a purity of line.
Ichigo scanned the room for a different purity of line. Big breasts. That would be a necessity. Shapely narrow waist and large hips to grasp when he plunged into his wife's pussy in the throes of marital duty. Most importantly, an even larger and delectable bottom to spank and play with as suited his will.
Ah, what a pair of arse cheeks he'd enjoyed the night before last. Some local whore his friend Uryuu had enticed to the party, or perhaps she'd been a good girl enjoying a forbidden tryst with some of London's most notorious rakehells. Whoever she was, she had squirmed and cooed and squealed with delicious enthusiasm as he'd spanked and molested her backside. Ichigo smoothed the hem of his waistcoat over his thickening cock, remembering how yielding the tart had been when he slid inside her. Not just her pussy, but her arsehole too before the night was over.
Gossip of his promiscuous activities must have finally reached his father's ears, goading him to act in this heavy-handed manner. A betrothal ball, indeed, and not one soul had let him in on the scheme beforehand. Very well. He'd wed, but not to their perfectly pedigreed dormouse. He could very well pick his own shackle.
Ichigo frowned and scanned the room, searching for a suitably buxom prospect among the sea of slender, stiff-necked virgins on display.
His friends approached, formidable gentlemen in their ballroom black: Lord Quincy whom the ladies all adored for his sleek bluish black locks- unlike his unruly spiky orange hair which appeared almost blond under the sun- and Lord Sado callous and rugged like Ichigo himself. The three of them had grown up together at Oxford, along with Renji a great Viking of a man and a duke in his own right. They were all only sons, dogged from a young age by the specters of "duty" and "responsibility," and so they had formed a friendship, encouraging one another in congenial rebellion.
Until now.
Renji clapped him on the back in sympathy, while Sado and Uryuu, both earls by title, guffawed behind their hands at his beleaguered frown.
"I suppose there's nothing for it now, old boy," said Uryuu. "Perhaps you shouldn't have hosted such a prolonged and lascivious party at Somerton."
"I'll sack the whole staff at Somerton for their talk," Ichigo said. "I'm a grown man. I can bedevil whores and doxies if I like."
"Nonsense. It's time to grow up," said Renji with mock gravity. "And this betrothal has been on the books for an eternity. The Lady Dormouse—er—Orihime must be eager to set up at your side."
"Help me find someone else," he pleaded over their laughter. "Some pretty girl. I'll take her into the study and ruin her. I'll take her out to the gardens and—"
"Tie her to a tree and whip her bottom?" Chad nodded. "I think that bypasses betrothal and constitutes marriage in certain shires."
"I'll do whatever it takes to escape a life with Lady Dormouse. For God's sake, I don't even know what she looks like. They're hiding her in some corner, no doubt, until just before the announcement."
"Look at that bit of goods." Uryuu jerked a chin at the corner.
A very pretty young woman in a pale blue gown with glittering sapphires at her neck stared back at his handsome friend.
Damn, why must Uryuu's good looks captivate each and every woman of the ton?
The young lady in question was practically in a swoon under his friend's regard. Ichigo was uncomfortably aware of how rough and inelegant he must look beside him, with his exceptional height, and broad shoulders coupled with his unnatural hair colour. Oh and did he forget to mention the constant scowl on his face.
The courtesans liked his build, but he'd heard it whispered by the ladies au salon that he was oversized and coarse.
He scowled at the young chit, annoyed to see she was everything a man like him desired. Her bosom pressed round and pretty as a peach from the constriction of her fitted bodice, while the skirts of her dress flared out over visible wide hips. She was no slim, lithe thing, this one. Her hair was glossy and full, rich fiery auburn waves curling over and around her shoulders. He had never seen a woman with such a magnificent coloured hair as hers. The hue reminded him of his mother's but hers was more of a honeyed colour. He would like to touch those curls, run his fingers through them. He'd like to grab her and subdue her with a kiss that would leave her far less innocent than she'd started out.
"She's got her eye on you, chap," said Uryuu.
"Her eyes are on you," he ground out. "You rotting pretty peacock."
"Go to her." He gave his friend a nudge.
"Look at that body. You can see she's got a smashing banging figure, even with the petticoats."
"Yes, go dance with her, Ichigo," Chad prompted. "No time to lose."
"I'm going to dance her right out of her reputation, and that's not going to happen here in front of a thousand eyes," said Ichigo.
"I'll draw her off somewhere and ruin her so the other betrothal will be off."
"You'll have to marry her then," Uryuu pointed out. "Do you dislike the idea of Lady Dormouse so very much?"
"I loathe the idea of Lady Dormouse, especially being forced into marrying her. It's the principle of the thing." He straightened his coat and nodded toward the woman in blue, who seemed more and more alluring. "This pretty piece of arse will do just as well, if I have to marry."
"Where then?" asked Renji stopping him with a hand on his arm. "Where shall we bring everyone so you can be caught in the midst of an illicit embrace?"
Ichigo thought a moment. "The path beyond the gardens, the one on the left that leads to the follies. Plenty of moonlight there for discovery. Anyone know who she is?"
Several high born gents were paying court to her, ranging around with languid gazes.
"Is she betrothed to someone else?"
"Would she be looking at you that way if she was?" Uryuu murmured.
A flush rose beneath the points of Ichigo's cravat. She was staring at him, really, with an arousing, fascinated expression of...dread. So she'd heard about him and his friends, perhaps heard about their famous parties. Most of the young ladies had been warned to stay away from those dangerous gentlemen. The four of them were as controversial as they were eligible. It was good that she knew his reputation. She would understand even before they married that he was a certain type of gentleman, namely the type of gentleman who didn't stay quietly at home.
"Your mother's headed this way," said Renji, interrupting his thoughts. "It's now or never. Lure miss pretty sexy arse out the back door and around to the gardens. Work a little of your dark, seductive magic."
"Tie her to a tree if you have to," Chad added, chuckling. "Whatever it takes."
"Distract my mother, will you? Just long enough for me to get her away." Ichigo turned his back on them and headed toward the young lady. Such a godforsaken crush, this ball. Why had his mother invited the entirety of the ton? Now he would shame this girl and her parents, and his own parents, and of course the jilted Lady Dormouse in front of absolutely everyone. He paused in his progress to the young lady's side. Did he really want to do this? Was this woman really the one he wanted? For life?
Her eyes locked on his. He hoped she wouldn't resist when he tried to finesse her out onto the terrace, and then to one of the more private paths. Perhaps dark features and a tall, forbidding stature served his purpose here. He'd entice her with his piratical air. Who wanted to be a pretty man like Uryuu, with all the fragile flowers falling at his feet? Ichigo didn't want fragile flowers. He wanted heavy bossoms and bouncy buttocks...and shiny curls...
Blast. Her aunurn curls were leaving. She shrank back into the crowds as if to elude him. His eyes strayed down to the sway of her large hips as she stumbled her way throughout the crowd to evade him. He followed her past the doors and out to the formal garden, pausing occasionally to greet this guest or that. He looked back for his mother and found her exchanging pleasantries with his friends. Faithful chaps. He would have assisted any of them in a caper like this, and probably would one day.
He felt the slightest twinge of regret for Lady Orihime. Dormouse or no, it was a cruel thing to be jilted. If she'd made the first attempt to get to know him...but then he'd been so rarely at their parents' estates. By your choice, not hers.
He shrugged off any pangs of guilt, drawn instead to the alluring shape of his retreating prey. To his delight, she was retreating to the exact dark, wooded area where he planned to tryst with her. She took the garden stairs at a frantic pace and looked over her shoulder as she crossed the manicured expanse of lawn toward the tree line. He hung back in the shadows so she couldn't see him.
Damn. Unfortunate, that he'd frightened the woman. He had to catch her or she'd disappear in the darkness and foil his plan. He cut around a side path and sprinted to where the two ways merged. As she approached, he melted out of the forest and took her arm.
She opened her mouth to scream.
"No," he said, clapping a hand over her lips. If she screamed now, everyone would come running before he'd had adequate time to debauch her. His other arm snaked around her narrow waist, pulling her close. Oh God, he groaned from the feel of her shapely body, all full of curves, crushed against his. He held her close as his molten eyes slid down under her chin to watch the rise and fall of her breasts.
She didn't have the manners to fall into a swoon, but fought him instead, pushing at his chest.
"Don't scream," he said. "Have I given you any reason to panic?"
She squirmed against him, her breath hissing behind his palm. Her body was every bit as delectable as he'd hoped, firm yet soft, and pleasantly curvy and plump. "Stop, my dearest." His voice held a note of warning as his cock stiffened against her front, aroused by her struggling and straining. "Promise not to scream and I'll let you go."
She stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened. Her fingers curled into fists against his chest.
"Will you be a good girl if I lift my hand away and release you? I mean you no harm, of course."
As soon as he edged the first finger from her lips, she drew a great gust of breath into her lungs and let out a piercing shriek. In his rush to muffle her, he got tangled in her skirts and they went down together in an awkward heap. If Renji brought the crowds necessary to discover them, he'd be accused of assault, not seduction.
Ok guys so that's all for part 1 of Chapter 1.
Read and review and please tell me what you think.