Restless Night

The harvest moon hung low over Whitehaven Estate, casting long shadows across the newly cultivated fields where months earlier only marsh grass and reeds had thrived. Bobby Kestrel stood at the window of his private study, a glass of Bordeaux held forgotten in his hand as he stared out at the silvery landscape. The transformation of the once-desolate Hoo Peninsula into a thriving agricultural and manufacturing center represented merely the physical manifestation of his influence—the visible portion of a much deeper restructuring he had initiated within England's social and political framework.

Yet tonight, his mind wandered far from Tudor England's political machinations.

"Galea," he whispered to the empty room, the name emerging unbidden from memories he usually kept carefully submerged beneath his focus on present circumstances. In the quiet moments between manipulations and machinations, her absence created hollow spaces his endless knowledge and power couldn't fill.

Sometimes he could almost feel her—the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, the particular cadence of her laughter when he'd said something deliberately outrageous, the way her eyes had reflected starlight during their nights beneath alien skies. Galea, who had somehow penetrated defenses built across billions of years of solitude. Galea, who had seen the god and loved the man beneath.

And Eden. Their impossible daughter.

Bobby closed his eyes, allowing himself this rare moment of genuine vulnerability in the solitude of his chamber. The quantum displacement energy accumulating within his system reminded him that his time in this reality remained limited. Eventually, it would tear him away from this timeline just as it had ripped him from Galea and Eden. The laws of quantum entanglement proved unforgiving even to beings of his extraordinary capabilities.

A soft knock interrupted his reverie—three quick taps followed by a deliberate pause and then two more. The distinctive pattern identified the visitor as clearly as a formal announcement.

Bobby didn't turn from the window. "Enter, Harrington."

The door opened with well-oiled silence, revealing his most trusted living agent—perhaps the only truly human confidant he maintained in this timeline. Harrington stepped into the study with characteristic efficiency, closing the door behind him before offering a precisely calibrated bow that acknowledged Bobby's technical nobility while maintaining the practical reality of their actual relationship.

"My lord," Harrington began with unusual formality that immediately signaled some potential complication. "Lady Howard requests a private audience at your convenience. She awaits in the east antechamber."

Bobby suppressed a sigh. Since his elevation to nobility, Whitehaven had attracted an expanding collection of courtiers seeking advantage through association with his rising influence. While the men typically focused on commercial partnerships and political alliances, several noblewomen had pursued more personal connections with the enigmatic baron whose wealth and power seemed to increase daily despite his technically recent arrival in English society.

"At this hour?" Bobby turned from the window, studying Harrington's carefully neutral expression. "Her daughter requires rest after their journey, yet the mother seeks private audience rather than similar recuperation?"

"The young Miss Catherine retired to her chamber approximately one hour ago," Harrington confirmed with precise attention to detail that made him invaluable as living agent. "Lady Howard, however, appeared particularly... energetic... despite the journey's rigors."

Bobby caught the subtle emphasis that communicated volumes between them. Lady Howard's interest extended well beyond mere political alliance or commercial partnership—a reality Harrington had observed with characteristic attention to nuanced behavioral indicators despite maintaining appropriate discretion in his reports.

"I see." Bobby set his wineglass down on the polished surface of his desk. "And does Lady Howard's energetic condition suggest particular urgency requiring immediate response despite the late hour?"

Harrington's expression remained professionally neutral despite the obvious subtext. "Her ladyship mentioned certain... proposals... regarding potential arrangements beneficial to all parties concerned. She emphasized personal delivery rather than written communication given the sensitive nature of these suggestions."

Bobby suppressed another sigh. The pattern had become increasingly familiar as his influence expanded through English society. Widows with substantial assets seeking protection through intimate alliance; mothers with eligible daughters seeking advantageous marriages to rising nobility; occasionally even wives whose husbands tacitly permitted extramarital arrangements in exchange for commercial or political advantage.

"Show her in, Harrington." Bobby moved to his desk, arranging himself with casual authority that nonetheless projected the power these women inevitably found so attractive despite its deliberately understated presentation. "Though perhaps ensure we remain undisturbed regardless of other visitors who might seek audience this evening."

Harrington bowed with perfect understanding of the implied instruction. "Of course, my lord. I shall inform other potential visitors that pressing business requires your complete focus until morning."

As Harrington departed to retrieve Lady Howard, Bobby adjusted his posture slightly—leaning back in his chair with calculated casualness that nonetheless maintained subtle dominance appropriate to his position. These encounters required careful calibration between accessibility and authority, creating perception of potential intimacy while preserving necessary distance until appropriate assessment could determine actual compatibility beyond merely transactional interaction.

Lady Howard entered with practiced grace that nonetheless contained subtle urgency beneath her composed exterior. In her early thirties, she represented English aristocracy's ideal feminine form—auburn hair constrained in fashionable arrangement that nonetheless suggested potential liberation under appropriate circumstances, figure maintaining youthful contours despite childbearing, complexion suggesting sufficient nobility to avoid manual labor while avoiding the unhealthy pallor of excessive confinement indoors.

"Baron Kestrel," Frances Howard greeted him with a perfectly calculated curtsy that simultaneously acknowledged his nobility while emphasizing her feminine contours through the movement's deliberate execution. "Your continued hospitality honors my daughter and myself beyond appropriate expression through mere words."

Bobby leaned back in his chair, observing her with a mixture of appreciation and amusement. Frances Howard had perfected the art of courtly seduction—the precise balance of deference and invitation, modesty and suggestion. She remained one of the few truly interesting humans he'd encountered in this timeline.

"Lady Howard," he acknowledged with a slight incline of his head. "Your presence graces Whitehaven despite the late hour. Though I confess some curiosity regarding matters so urgent they couldn't await morning's light."

Frances moved around his desk with casual familiarity that would have shocked most of English nobility. The practiced grace of her movements suggested both confidence and purpose as she positioned herself closer to him than propriety would typically allow.

"Oh, come now, Bobby," she said, dropping the formal address entirely as she perched on the edge of his desk. "Must we maintain these tedious formalities when we're alone? It's exhausting enough performing for the court vultures all day."

The transformation was immediate and striking. Like shedding an uncomfortable garment, Frances Howard discarded her carefully constructed noble persona, revealing the sharp-witted and pragmatic woman beneath. It was this quality, more than her undeniable physical attributes, that had initially captured Bobby's interest.

"A fair point," he conceded, his own posture relaxing slightly. "Though Harrington mentioned 'proposals' requiring private delivery. Should I assume this isn't about the northern wool consortium after all?"

Frances laughed, the sound genuine rather than the practiced musical titter she deployed in court circles. "Fuck the wool consortium. Though I did secure those contracts you mentioned." She leaned forward slightly. "But no, I'm here about something considerably more... personal."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, though he'd already anticipated the general direction of this conversation from Harrington's carefully chosen words. "I'm listening."

"Catherine is sixteen now," Frances stated without preamble, watching his reaction carefully. "She's noticed you, of course. Impossible not to, with half the court ladies spreading their legs at the mere mention of the mysterious Baron Kestrel."

"Your maternal pride is touching," Bobby remarked dryly.

"Don't play coy. It doesn't suit you." Frances stood, moving with deliberate slowness around his chair, her fingers trailing lightly across his shoulders as she circled him. "She asks about you constantly. Wants to know everything—your businesses, your mysterious past, your... special talents."

Bobby remained still, allowing her this little performance while maintaining his amused detachment. "And naturally, as a devoted mother, you've shared detailed insights regarding these 'special talents'?"

"Enough to pique her interest," Frances admitted without a trace of embarrassment. "Though some experiences require... practical demonstration rather than mere description."

Bobby turned his chair slightly, facing her directly. "Frances, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Her smile widened, predatory and unapologetic. "Catherine is beautiful, intelligent, and curious. More importantly, she's a Howard. We understand how the world truly works beneath all the Christian morality nonsense the clergy peddles." She leaned down, bringing her face close to his. "I'm offering you both of us. Mother and daughter. Together."

Though Bobby had suspected this direction, the explicit offer still represented an unusual level of directness even by Frances Howard's standards. He maintained his composed expression while studying her with those ancient eyes that had witnessed civilizations rise and fall.

"An intriguing proposition," he acknowledged, his voice betraying neither shock nor immediate acceptance. "Though perhaps one requiring some consideration given the... unconventional nature of the arrangement."

Frances straightened, confidence radiating from her posture. "Consider it a formal alliance, if you prefer more political framing. Catherine needs a husband of appropriate influence. You need connections to established nobility to solidify your position." Her smile turned knowing. "Meanwhile, we both know your appetites extend beyond what any single woman might reasonably satisfy."

Bobby feigned contemplation, though in truth, his decision had formed the moment she entered his study. Frances Howard represented an interesting distraction—nothing more. His true focus remained firmly on the larger game involving the Tudor succession and his promise to Elizabeth.

"A tempting arrangement," he admitted after the appropriate pause for consideration. "Though I wonder if either you or Catherine fully understand the position you're attempting to secure."

Frances laughed, the sound genuinely amused rather than performative. "You mean competing with a Tudor princess and a Grey queen? I'm not a fool, Bobby. Neither Catherine nor I could ever surpass what they represent politically." She shrugged, the gesture candidly pragmatic. "But politics and pleasure need not always align perfectly. Elizabeth can have your crown while we enjoy... other parts of you."

Bobby couldn't suppress a genuine smile at her shrewdness. Frances Howard might lack the formal education of Elizabeth or Jane, but her instinctual understanding of power dynamics often proved remarkably accurate.

"You navigate treacherous waters with impressive skill, Lady Howard," he observed, deliberately using her title to acknowledge this assessment of the political landscape. "Many would have drowned long ago in your position."

"Henry certainly did," she replied with a casual reference to her recently deceased husband that confirmed Bobby's suspicions regarding her involvement in that convenient passing.

Rather than commenting on this implicit admission, Bobby rose from his chair, towering over Frances despite her considerable height. "You've cultivated your assets brilliantly," he acknowledged, allowing his gaze to travel deliberately down her body in a way that transformed the double meaning into something explicitly carnal. "Both your wealth and your... natural advantages."

Frances didn't retreat from his proximity. Instead, she pressed herself against him, her body heat permeating through the fine fabric of their clothing. "Why waste time with further negotiation when we both know where this conversation leads?" She reached between them, her hand boldly cupping the substantial bulge already evident in his breeches. "The same place it's led every time I've visited your chambers these past months."

Bobby gripped her wrist, not to stop her advances but to establish dominance in their interaction. "Henry's body barely cold, and already you scheme to secure your daughter in my bed alongside yourself." His tone held no judgment, merely clinical observation. "Most mothers would seek protection for their daughters rather than offering them as additional enticement."

"Most mothers are fools," Frances replied without hesitation, her fingers continuing their exploration despite his grip on her wrist. "Catherine will need powerful protection in this world. More importantly, she deserves pleasure rather than the miserable duty I endured with Henry." She leaned closer, her lips nearly touching his ear as she whispered, "Besides, I've seen how she looks at you. She wants this as much as I do."

With a single fluid movement, Bobby spun Frances around and bent her over his desk, his hand firmly pressing between her shoulder blades to hold her in place. The action was swift but controlled—a demonstration of power rather than ****.

"And what exactly do you want, Frances?" he asked, his free hand gathering the material of her skirts, drawing them upward with deliberate slowness. "Beyond the obvious political advantages?"

"Don't play stupid," she gasped, already spreading her legs wider in anticipation as cool air touched her exposed thighs. "I want that magnificent cock filling me again. I've thought of nothing else since you last had me."

Bobby continued gathering her skirts, exposing the bare flesh of her upper thighs and the unadorned cunny already glistening with evidence of her arousal. "No undergarments," he observed with mild amusement. "You came prepared."

"I came hopeful," she corrected, arching her back to present herself more prominently. "Now stop talking and fuck me like you mean it."

Bobby released his grip on her back, confident she would maintain the position without further restraint. His fingers traced the exposed curve of her ass, appreciating the contrast between her pale skin and the rich burgundy of her bunched skirts. Frances Howard might represent merely temporary distraction from his larger concerns, but she certainly provided entertaining diversion.

"Tell me more about Catherine," he directed as his fingers explored the slick folds of her sex with practiced familiarity. "How exactly have you prepared her for this proposed arrangement?"

Frances gasped as he slid two fingers inside her with deliberate precision, finding the spots he'd mapped during their previous encounters. "I've told her everything," she admitted, pushing back against his hand. "How big you are, how you stay hard for hours, the things you make me feel..."

"Everything?" Bobby prompted, adding a third finger while his thumb circled her clit with precise pressure.

"Fuck!" Frances gasped, her body already responding to his skilled manipulation. "Yes, everything. How you bend me over and take me from behind. How you make me beg. How full I feel with your cock inside me."

Bobby withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving her whimpering at the sudden emptiness. With practiced efficiency, he unfastened his breeches, freeing his impressively proportioned member. The size had initially shocked Frances during their first encounter—thick enough that her fingers couldn't fully encircle it, with length that had made her genuinely question her ability to accommodate him.

"And Catherine? She wasn't scandalized by her mother's explicit confessions?" Bobby positioned himself at Frances' entrance, the broad head of his cock parting her folds without pushing inside.

"God no," Frances laughed breathlessly, trying unsuccessfully to push back against him. "She was fascinated. Asked questions I wouldn't have dared at her age." She looked over her shoulder, eyes dark with lust. "She wants to watch next time. Said she needs to learn properly before participating."

Bobby gripped Frances' hips, holding her firmly as he pushed forward with deliberate slowness. Her body resisted briefly before stretching to accommodate his substantial girth, drawing a long, guttural moan from her throat as he sank inch by inch into her welcoming heat.

"Such a devoted mother," he remarked, the sarcastic observation contrasting with the primal nature of their coupling. "Teaching your daughter the finer points of taking cock."

Frances could only gasp in response as he seated himself fully inside her, stretching her in ways that bordered between pleasure and pain. Her hands clawed at the polished surface of his desk, seeking purchase as her body adjusted to his invasive presence.

"She'll—ah God!—she'll need to know," Frances panted as Bobby began to withdraw before thrusting back in with measured ****. "Better from me than some fumbling court boy who'll rut for thirty seconds before spending himself."

Bobby established a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate and powerful without yet approaching his full strength. Frances Howard enjoyed rough handling, but he maintained careful control of his superhuman capabilities even during their most vigorous encounters.

"And you think I'll provide more satisfying instruction?" he inquired, maintaining the conversation despite the increasingly primal nature of their coupling. His hands gripped her hips firmly, fingers pressing into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks that would linger for days.

"Fucking hell, yes!" Frances cried out as he increased his pace slightly. "Look at you—unnaturally big, never losing hardness, knowing exactly how to touch a woman..." She gasped as a particularly deep thrust hit something exquisite inside her. "You're not like other men. Catherine deserves more than ordinary."

Bobby's lips curved into a smile at this unknowingly accurate assessment of his non-human nature. If Frances only knew how truly "not like other men" he actually was, she might reconsider offering her daughter quite so enthusiastically.

"And you think she could handle this?" he asked, emphasizing the question with a particularly forceful thrust that drove Frances forward on the desk, scattering papers to the floor. "Not every woman can accommodate what I have to offer."

Frances laughed breathlessly, the sound transforming into a moan as he maintained his rigorous pace. "She's young, but she's a Howard. We're made of sterner stuff than most noble flowers." She looked back over her shoulder, eyes glazed with pleasure but still sharp with that calculating intelligence that made her more than merely physically appealing. "Besides, you could train her gradually. I'd help, of course."

The image this conjured—Frances guiding her daughter through the process of accommodating his considerable size—triggered something primal in Bobby despite his usual detachment. He increased his pace, driving into Frances with greater **** that made the heavy desk slide slightly across the polished floor.

"Such a thoughtful mother," he remarked, his voice remaining steady despite the vigor of his movements. "Offering to help your daughter take my cock. Perhaps you'd hold her open while I push inside for the first time? Show her how to breathe through the initial stretch?"

"God yes," Frances gasped, her inner muscles clenching around him as the explicit imagery heightened her arousal. "I'd show her everything. How to use her mouth on you, how to take you deeper than she thinks possible..."

Bobby leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back as he continued his relentless rhythm. "And would you enjoy watching as I filled your daughter's tight young cunt with my cock?" he whispered against her ear, deliberately using the crude language that he knew heightened her pleasure. "Seeing her face the first time she feels stretched beyond what she thought her body could handle?"

"Fuck yes," Frances moaned, her body trembling as his words pushed her closer to climax. "I've thought about it so many times. Watching you take her, teaching her to please you properly..."

Bobby straightened, adjusting his angle to hit the spot that reliably drove Frances toward orgasm. "Perhaps I'd have you both kneel before me," he suggested, his voice maintaining that controlled detachment despite the increasingly explicit scenario he described. "Mother and daughter with their mouths open, competing to see who could take more of my cock down their throat."

Frances' body tensed as these words pushed her to the edge. "She'd—God!—she'd be eager to learn," she gasped, fingers clutching desperately at the desk edge. "I've told her how magnificent you taste when you come."

"Have you now?" Bobby increased his pace, the desk now audibly scraping against the floor with each powerful thrust. "And did you tell her how much I produce? How it fills your mouth to overflowing no matter how quickly you swallow?"

This pushed Frances over the edge, her body convulsing around him as orgasm claimed her. Her inner walls pulsed rhythmically, trying to milk his release as her body responded to both physical stimulation and the taboo imagery his words had conjured.

Bobby maintained his pace through her climax, extending her pleasure with practiced skill as he continued driving into her trembling body. "I haven't decided yet," he mused conversationally, as though they were discussing business arrangements rather than engaged in vigorous coupling. "Whether I'd take her mouth or cunt first. Which would you recommend, as her devoted mother?"

Frances gasped, still riding the aftershocks of her orgasm as he continued his relentless pace. "Her mouth," she panted without hesitation. "She needs to learn to use her tongue properly before anything else. I'd help her, show her how to work the head while I handled what she couldn't fit."

"Such detailed planning," Bobby observed, gradually increasing his pace again as Frances recovered from her initial climax. "Almost as though you've rehearsed these scenarios in your mind repeatedly."

"Every night," Frances admitted shamelessly, her body responding to his renewed vigor with enthusiastic movements of her own. "Lying in bed, fingers between my legs, imagining you teaching Catherine everything you've taught me."

Bobby's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her back to meet each forward thrust with increasing ****. "And would you want to watch as I spilled inside her for the first time? Or would you prefer I painted her face with my release while you observed her reaction?"

"Her face," Frances gasped immediately. "I want to see her expression the first time she feels how much you produce. Watch it dripping down her cheeks, coating her lips..." She trailed off as another climax began building rapidly from his continued stimulation.

"Perhaps I'd finish on both of you," Bobby suggested, his pace now approaching the limits of what a normal human male could maintain. "Mother and daughter kneeling together, faces upturned, competing for who could catch more on their tongue."

Frances' second orgasm crashed through her at these words, more intense than the first as her body spasmed around his invading length. "Yes!" she cried, past caring if anyone beyond the study's walls might hear despite the soundproofing technologies Bobby had discreetly installed. "Cover us both! Mark us as yours!"

Bobby allowed his pace to become truly punishing now, driving into Frances with **** that would leave her walking uncomfortably tomorrow despite her experienced body's accommodation. The desk creaked beneath them, solid oak construction tested by the vigor of their coupling.

"And afterward," he continued, maintaining the explicit narrative that so clearly heightened her pleasure, "I'd watch you clean my release from your daughter's face with your tongue. Sharing it between you like the devoted mother you claim to be."

"Fuck, Bobby!" Frances gasped, already approaching a third climax despite the brevity of their encounter. Few men could bring her to completion even once; none before Bobby had ever managed multiple orgasms in a single session. "I would. I'd lick every drop from her skin. Show her how to savor the taste."

Bobby reached around her body, fingers finding her sensitive clit with unerring precision as he continued his relentless thrusting. "And then I'd bend her over beside you," he whispered, his words creating vivid imagery that pushed Frances toward another peak. "Mother and daughter side by side while I took turns filling each of you. Making you both come until you begged for mercy."

This final image triggered Frances' third orgasm, her body convulsing so violently that Bobby had to hold her in place to maintain their connection. Her cries echoed in the study despite the room's special acoustic properties, animal sounds of pleasure beyond conscious thought or control.

Only then did Bobby allow his own release, driving deep and holding himself there as he filled Frances with remarkable volume that soon overflowed, running down her inner thighs in viscous rivulets. Unlike normal men, he remained fully hard even as he pumped his seed into her willing body, his superhuman physiology unaffected by normal refractory limitations.

"God," Frances gasped as sensation overwhelmed her, the feeling of being filled so completely pushing her toward yet another climax despite her body's growing exhaustion. "How do you produce so much? It's not natural."

Bobby smiled at this unknowingly accurate observation. "Perhaps I've been saving it for you," he suggested with deliberate misdirection. "Anticipating your visit since you arrived at Whitehaven."

Frances laughed breathlessly, her body still twitching around him despite being thoroughly spent. "Liar. The Countess of Bedford looked entirely too satisfied at dinner. I'd wager you had her this afternoon."

Rather than denying this accurate assessment, Bobby slowly withdrew, his still-hard length glistening with the combined evidence of their coupling. Frances whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her body protesting the loss of his filling presence despite her physical exhaustion.

"Turn around," he directed, his tone carrying absolute authority despite its quiet delivery.

Frances complied immediately, pushing herself upright with trembling arms before turning to face him. Her carefully arranged hair had come partially undone, tendrils framing her flushed face. Her skirts remained bunched around her waist, the expensive fabric hopelessly wrinkled from their vigorous activities.

Bobby still stood at his full height, impressive member jutting outward with no sign of diminishment despite having just reached completion. The sight made Frances lick her lips unconsciously, her body responding to his continued arousal despite her recent exhaustion.

"On your knees," he instructed simply.

Again, Frances obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the polished floor before him with practiced grace that suggested this position had become familiar during their previous encounters. She looked up at him with undisguised hunger despite having already climaxed three times in rapid succession.

"Clean me thoroughly," Bobby directed, his hand moving to the back of her head without applying pressure—the command itself sufficient to ensure compliance.

Frances leaned forward eagerly, her tongue extending to collect the mingled evidence of their coupling from his length with obvious relish. She worked methodically, starting at the base and moving upward with broad strokes before focusing on the sensitive head with more detailed attention.

"You take to this task with impressive enthusiasm," Bobby observed, watching her ministrations with detached appreciation. "Would you show Catherine the same techniques? Guide her head as she learned to please me properly?"

Frances paused in her efforts, looking up at him with renewed arousal evident in her expression. "I'd teach her everything," she confirmed, her tongue circling the broad head of his cock with deliberate slowness. "How to use her lips, her tongue, how to relax her throat to take you deeper..."

Bobby's hand tightened slightly in her hair, guiding her back to her task rather than allowing further conversation. Frances resumed her efforts with increased enthusiasm, clearly aroused by the continued discussion of her daughter's potential participation in these activities.

"Perhaps next time you visit," Bobby suggested as Frances worked diligently to clean every trace of their coupling from his length, "you might bring Catherine for initial introduction to these more private aspects of our potential arrangement."

Frances moaned around his flesh, the vibration creating pleasant sensation as she redoubled her efforts. When she pulled back to respond, her eyes showed genuine excitement beyond mere physical arousal.

"She'll be nervous but eager," Frances predicted, her hand replacing her mouth temporarily as she spoke. "She's asked so many questions about your size, how it feels to take something so substantial inside..."

"And you've answered with enthusiastic detail, I'm sure," Bobby remarked dryly, guiding her mouth back to his flesh with gentle but firm pressure on the back of her head.

Frances didn't respond verbally, but her expression confirmed his assessment as she returned to her task with renewed vigor. Despite having coupled with Frances numerous times over recent months, Bobby maintained perfect control of his responses, allowing her ministrations to provide pleasant sensation without approaching climax until he chose.

After several minutes of her increasingly enthusiastic attention, Bobby decided to reward her efforts. His hand tightened in her hair, holding her in place as he spoke. "I'm going to fill your mouth now," he informed her with characteristic directness. "Swallow what you can and save the rest."

Frances' eyes widened in understanding, her throat working in anticipation as she prepared for what previous experience had taught her would be a challenging volume to accommodate. She hollowed her cheeks, creating additional suction as Bobby allowed himself to approach completion.

When his release came, it arrived with the same unnatural abundance as before, quickly filling Frances' mouth despite her practiced swallowing. She struggled to contain the volume, some escaping to run down her chin despite her best efforts as Bobby maintained his position, continuing to pump his seed onto her eager tongue.

When he finally withdrew, Frances remained kneeling, looking up at him with her mouth still partly filled with his release. Without being instructed, she extended her tongue, displaying what she had saved as evidence of her obedience to his earlier command.

"Good," Bobby acknowledged, his tone approving despite its clinical detachment. "Now imagine sharing that with Catherine. Teaching her to appreciate the taste as you clearly do."

Frances closed her mouth, visibly savoring his release before swallowing with deliberate slowness. "She'll learn to crave it as I do," she predicted, wiping her chin with elegant fingers before licking them clean with unabashed enthusiasm.

Bobby tucked himself away, refastening his breeches with practiced efficiency despite maintaining full hardness. He extended a hand, helping Frances to her feet with gentlemanly courtesy that contrasted sharply with the crude nature of their recent activities.

"You should prepare yourself before returning to your chambers," he suggested, gesturing toward the small adjoining room where he kept washing supplies for precisely these encounters. "Your daughter might still be awake despite the late hour."

Frances laughed, the sound remarkably composed given her disheveled state and the multiple orgasms she'd experienced minutes earlier. "Catherine would hardly be scandalized. She knows perfectly well where I've been." She smoothed her skirts with practiced motions, making a reasonable attempt to restore her appearance despite the obvious signs of vigorous activity. "Besides, seeing evidence of our coupling might answer some of her questions more effectively than mere description."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at this further evidence of Frances Howard's unconventional approach to motherhood. "Nevertheless," he insisted with gentle firmness, "propriety suggests minimal attention to appearance regardless of your daughter's suspected awareness."

Frances sighed dramatically but complied, moving toward the indicated room to make necessary adjustments to her disheveled state. "You can appear perfectly proper when it suits you," she called over her shoulder. "Despite what I've just witnessed between your legs and the vulgarities you whispered in my ear moments ago."

Bobby didn't respond to this observation, instead moving to rearrange the papers that had scattered across his floor during their vigorous coupling. By the time Frances returned, looking considerably more composed despite the lingering flush on her cheeks, he had restored the study to its previous orderly condition.

"Will you consider my proposal seriously?" Frances asked, her tone shifting toward something more genuinely **** than her usual calculated performance. "Catherine truly would benefit from your protection in court circles. Her father left little security despite his family name."

Bobby studied her with that ancient gaze that sometimes made Frances shiver despite her characteristic boldness. "I'll consider all aspects of our potential arrangement," he acknowledged with deliberate ambiguity. "Though circumstances remain complex given current political developments between various factions."

Frances nodded, accepting this non-committal response with better grace than might be expected given the enthusiasm of her proposal. "I understand your primary interests lie elsewhere," she acknowledged with surprising perceptiveness. "The Tudor princess represents different possibilities than a Howard daughter, regardless of how delightfully we might entertain you."

Bobby's expression revealed nothing despite the accuracy of this assessment. "Political considerations remain fluid given recent discoveries regarding succession documentation," he replied with carefully measured words. "Immediate commitments would be premature regardless of personal inclinations."

"Of course," Frances agreed, her pragmatic nature reasserting itself after their momentary physical abandonment. "Though should you decide our arrangement offers sufficient benefits alongside your more significant pursuits, Catherine and I remain enthusiastically available for more... detailed negotiation."

Bobby inclined his head in acknowledgment of this thinly veiled invitation for future encounters similar to the one they had just concluded. "Your position has been noted with appropriate consideration," he assured her with formal phrasing that nonetheless contained undertones of genuine appreciation for her direct approach.

As he escorted Frances to the study door, she paused briefly, looking up at him with uncharacteristic directness that contained none of her usual calculated seduction. "You're not what you appear to be, Baron Kestrel," she observed quietly. "I've known many men throughout my life—nobles, merchants, scholars, soldiers—yet none quite like you."

Bobby maintained his composed expression despite this unexpectedly perceptive comment. "We are all more than initial appearances might suggest," he replied with diplomatic neutrality that neither confirmed nor denied her implied assessment of his extraordinary nature.

Frances smiled, the expression genuinely amused rather than seductive. "Indeed. Though most of us remain fundamentally human beneath our various masks." She reached up, touching his cheek with surprising gentleness. "Whatever you actually are, I find myself grateful for having experienced you, however temporarily."

Before Bobby could formulate appropriate response to this uncomfortably accurate observation, Frances leaned up and kissed him briefly—a gesture containing genuine affection rather than merely physical desire or political calculation. Then she slipped through the door, departing with quiet dignity that contrasted sharply with the abandoned nature of their recent coupling.

Bobby had barely closed the door behind Frances Howard when another series of knocks sounded—the same distinctive pattern indicating Harrington's return. He let out a long-suffering sigh, running his fingers through his hair as he moved back behind his desk.

"Enter."

Harrington appeared with the same efficient movements as before, though a hint of amusement now played at the corners of his normally composed expression.

"Don't tell me—the Countess of Bedford has returned for another sampling despite this afternoon's extensive... consultation?" Bobby asked with sardonic resignation.

"No, my lord," Harrington replied, his voice maintaining its professional neutrality despite the subject matter. "Lady Margaret Fitzwilliam and her younger sister, Lady Eliza. They await your convenience in the east wing guest chambers."

Bobby barked out a surprised laugh. "Lady Margaret actually brought her sister? I made that suggestion in jest last time." He shook his head in genuine amusement. "The girl must be even more naïve than I realized."

"Shall I convey your regrets, my lord?" Harrington asked with practiced diplomacy. "Though I feel obligated to mention they would be severely disappointed after traveling specifically for this... invitation."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Invitation? I don't recall extending one."

"Lady Margaret indicated you had suggested her sister might benefit from your... personal tutelage," Harrington replied, his expression remaining professionally neutral despite the obvious subtext. "They've taken the liberty of preparing in the azure chamber."

"Did they now?" Bobby leaned back in his chair, a speculative smile playing across his lips. "And who else seeks my attention this evening? I note your careful phrasing suggests the Fitzwilliam sisters aren't the only ones hoping for an audience."

Harrington reached into his doublet, producing several folded notes. "Lady Anne Wentworth slipped this into my hand during dinner," he said, placing the first note on the desk. "The Viscountess Beaumont managed to conceal this in my pocket while passing in the corridor." A second note joined the first. "And I found this tucked into my chamber door—the handwriting suggests Miss Katherine Herbert, though it lacks a signature."

Bobby stared at the collection of notes, then laughed with genuine mirth. "Have I become a common gigolo, Harrington? Servicing the frustrated nobility of England between matters of actual importance?"

"Nothing common about it, my lord," Harrington replied with a rare flash of humor. "Shall I send regrets to these additional... petitioners?"

Bobby waved his hand dismissively. "No need. My displacement energy won't reach critical levels tonight, and I've scheduled matters with Elizabeth for tomorrow afternoon. I can accommodate them all." He picked up one of the notes, breaking the scented seal. "My, the Viscountess is remarkably explicit in her requests."

"The ladies have traveled considerable distances for their... non-academic research," Harrington observed dryly.

Bobby laughed again. "Indeed. Whitehaven has become their heaven for whiteness in more ways than one." He stood, straightening his doublet with practiced efficiency. "Begin with the Fitzwilliam sisters. Inform the others I'll attend them in sequence—the Viscountess at midnight, Lady Anne at two, and Miss Herbert before dawn. Each should prepare accordingly."

"As you wish, my lord," Harrington replied with a perfect bow that contained not a hint of judgment regarding these extraordinary arrangements. "Will you require anything else before your... consultations?"

"Just privacy and discretion," Bobby replied. "Though I doubt either will prevent the inevitable flood of rumors tomorrow." He moved toward the door with fluid grace that suggested boundless energy despite having just thoroughly satisfied Lady Howard. "The servants will be busy changing sheets come morning."

---

Bobby entered the azure chamber without knocking. The room—one of several he had specially designed for intimate encounters—featured a massive bed, strategically placed mirrors, and subtle lighting that flattered even the most insecure participant. Lady Margaret Fitzwilliam sat perched on the edge of the bed, while her younger sister stood nervously by the window, both already dressed in diaphanous nightgowns that revealed more than they concealed.

"Ladies," Bobby greeted them, his voice immediately dropping to a deeper register that he knew from experience triggered an almost pavlovian response in women. "What a delightful surprise."

Lady Margaret rose immediately, a practiced smile spreading across her face. At twenty-three, she embodied the classic English rose—fair skin, honey-blonde hair, and a figure that balanced the line between slender elegance and womanly curves. "Baron Kestrel," she purred, dropping into a curtsy that deliberately allowed her gown to gape open, revealing the full curve of her breasts. "You mentioned last time that perhaps Eliza might join us. I hope we haven't presumed too much."

Bobby's gaze shifted to the younger sister, who blushed furiously under his scrutiny. Eliza Fitzwilliam couldn't be more than eighteen, with the same blonde coloring as her sister but softer features still rounded with youth. Her nervous fidgeting contrasted sharply with Margaret's practiced seduction.

"Not at all," Bobby replied, moving further into the room and closing the door behind him. "Though I confess, I hadn't expected quite such literal interpretation of what was merely playful suggestion."

Margaret approached him with deliberate movements, her hips swaying beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. "Eliza has heard so much about you," she murmured, reaching up to trail her fingers along the front of his doublet. "I might have shared certain... details of our previous encounters."

"Sisterly confidences?" Bobby suggested with a raised eyebrow, catching her wandering hand and bringing it to his lips. "How... comprehensive was your description?"

Margaret's eyes flashed with mischief. "Comprehensive enough that she begged to accompany me when I received your invitation to return." She glanced back at her sister, who remained frozen by the window. "Though I believe the reality of the situation has rendered her momentarily shy."

Bobby released Margaret's hand and moved toward Eliza, who tensed visibly as he approached. Unlike the brazenly revealing cut of Margaret's gown, Eliza's nightdress featured a high neck and long sleeves, though the sheer fabric still revealed the shadow of her nipples and the dark triangle between her thighs.

"Lady Eliza," he greeted her, his voice gentler than the commanding tone he'd used with Margaret. "You seem uncertain. Perhaps your sister has exaggerated the pleasures to be found here."

The girl swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Bobby and her sister. "I... No, my lord. Margaret has been most... vivid in her descriptions." Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried the refined accent of proper English nobility despite her evident nervousness. "I simply find myself somewhat overwhelmed by the... reality."

"Specifically," Margaret interjected with sisterly impatience, "she's terrified by what I told her about your size. Show her, Bobby. Let her see what she's in for."

Bobby shot Margaret a reproving look. "Your sister deserves some consideration, Lady Margaret. Not everyone shares your remarkable enthusiasm for immediate proceedings."

He returned his attention to Eliza, maintaining a respectful distance despite the intimate setting. "We need do nothing at all if you're uncomfortable," he assured her. "Observation alone might prove sufficient introduction to these activities."

Margaret made a sound of disappointment, but Eliza's shoulders relaxed slightly at this assurance. "I would like to watch," she admitted, her voice steadying. "At first, at least. Margaret said... she said it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before."

Bobby inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Then that is where we'll begin." He turned to Margaret, his expression shifting to something more commanding. "Undress me."

Margaret moved forward eagerly, her fingers already working at the fastenings of his doublet. "She was most curious about your stamina," she commented conversationally as she pushed the garment from his shoulders. "I told her how you remained hard even after spending three times inside me during our last encounter."

Bobby allowed her to continue undressing him, his gaze fixed on Eliza, who watched with fascination despite her evident nervousness. As Margaret pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his perfectly muscled torso, Eliza's eyes widened appreciatively.

"You maintained your figure well for a man of your... position," Eliza observed, then immediately blushed at her own boldness.

Bobby smiled. "The benefits of regular exercise and disciplined habits," he replied, the mundane explanation masking the reality of his nanite-maintained physiology. "Though perhaps tonight's activities might constitute exercise enough."

Margaret laughed as she knelt before him, unfastening his breeches with practiced movements. "That depends entirely on how vigorously you intend to proceed," she teased, hooking her fingers into the waistband. "Last time left me unable to sit comfortably for two days afterward."

With a deliberate slowness clearly intended to build anticipation, Margaret drew his breeches downward, revealing his already impressive manhood. Even relaxed, his size exceeded what most men could claim at full arousal—thick, veined, and proportioned with intimidating perfection.

Eliza gasped audibly. "That can't possibly... I mean, how could anyone...?" She trailed off, her eyes fixed on his exposed member.

"I assure you, it's quite possible," Margaret replied before Bobby could speak. She wrapped her fingers around his length, demonstrating how her hand couldn't fully encircle its girth. "With adequate preparation and proper technique."

Bobby placed his hand on Margaret's head, guiding her gently away. "Perhaps a demonstration would prove more instructive than mere description," he suggested, stepping out of his breeches and moving toward the bed. "Lady Eliza, you may observe from whatever position provides the clearest view."

Margaret followed him eagerly, shedding her nightgown with a single fluid movement that suggested considerable practice at disrobing for an audience. Her body, already familiar to Bobby from their previous encounters, displayed the pale perfection expected of noble English womanhood—full breasts with pink nipples already tightening in anticipation, narrow waist flaring to rounded hips, and a carefully depilated cunt that reflected the latest court fashion.

"How would you have me, my lord?" she asked, striking a deliberately provocative pose at the edge of the bed.

Bobby considered her for a moment, aware of Eliza's fascinated gaze. "On your back," he decided. "With your legs spread. Your sister should see everything clearly from that angle."

Margaret complied immediately, positioning herself in the center of the large bed with her thighs parted to reveal her sex—already glistening with obvious arousal. Bobby followed more slowly, settling himself between her legs without immediately taking her. Instead, he lowered his head, his tongue extending to trace the length of her slit with deliberate slowness.

"Oh!" Margaret gasped, her hips jerking upward at the contact. "Yes, just like that."

Bobby worked methodically, using his tongue to part her folds and explore her most sensitive areas with practiced skill. He alternated broad strokes that covered her entire cunt with more focused attention to her clitoris, occasionally glancing toward Eliza to ensure she had a clear view of these proceedings.

The younger sister had moved closer, now standing beside the bed with her eyes wide and her breathing quickened. Her hand unconsciously pressed against the front of her nightgown, applying pressure where her own arousal had begun to make itself known.

"You see how he prepares me?" Margaret gasped, her fingers tangling in Bobby's hair as he continued his oral ministrations. "Making me good and wet before—oh God!—before he puts that magnificent cock inside me."

Bobby increased his efforts, adding first one finger and then a second into Margaret's eager body, stretching her systematically while continuing to pleasure her with his tongue. Her legs trembled as he curled his fingers upward, finding the spot he knew from experience would push her rapidly toward climax.

"Fuck!" Margaret cried out, her normally refined accent momentarily giving way to cruder expressions as pleasure overwhelmed her. "Right there, Bobby! Don't stop!"

He maintained the precise rhythm and pressure that had triggered her response, feeling her inner muscles beginning to contract around his fingers as her first orgasm approached. Within moments, she was bucking beneath him, her thighs clamping around his head as she came with theatrical enthusiasm that Bobby suspected was partly for her sister's benefit.

As Margaret's climax subsided, Bobby straightened, his cock now fully erect and standing proudly from his body. The full extent of his arousal drew another gasp from Eliza, whose hand now pressed more deliberately against her own sex despite her continued outward hesitation.

"Now you'll see the real miracle," Margaret panted, still flushed from her orgasm as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Watch carefully, Eliza. You won't believe what happens next."

Bobby positioned himself at Margaret's entrance, the broad head of his cock parting her folds without yet pushing inside. "Are you sufficiently prepared?" he asked, maintaining the pretense that this was her first experience with his substantial girth despite their previous encounters.

"Yes," Margaret moaned, spreading her legs wider in obvious invitation. "Please, Baron Kestrel. I need you inside me."

With deliberate slowness, Bobby began to push forward, the head of his cock stretching Margaret's entrance visibly as it gradually disappeared into her body. He paused repeatedly, allowing her time to adjust to his size despite knowing from experience that she could accommodate him completely.

"Sweet Jesus," Eliza whispered, abandoning any pretense of disinterest as she watched her sister taking Bobby's impressive manhood inch by inch. "Does it hurt terribly?"

"It burns a little at first," Margaret admitted through gritted teeth, her body tensing visibly as Bobby continued his careful penetration. "But then—oh God!—then it feels incredible. Like being filled completely."

Bobby continued his methodical progress until he was fully seated inside Margaret, his considerable length buried to the hilt in her willing body. He held himself there, allowing her internal muscles to adjust to his size while giving Eliza an unobstructed view of their connection.

"You see?" Margaret gasped, her voice strained from the fullness. "All of it. Every magnificent inch."

Bobby began to withdraw slowly, the visual of his thick shaft emerging from Margaret's stretched entrance clearly having a profound effect on Eliza, whose breathing had accelerated noticeably. When only the head remained inside, he reversed direction, pushing back in with slightly more **** than before.

"Yes!" Margaret cried, her back arching from the bed. "Harder, Bobby! Don't be gentle!"

He established a steady rhythm, each thrust slightly more forceful than the last, gradually building toward the vigorous pace he knew Margaret preferred. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the chamber, punctuated by Margaret's increasingly vocal expressions of pleasure.

"Take off your gown, Eliza," Margaret suddenly commanded between gasps. "Let him see you while he fucks me."

Eliza hesitated momentarily, but the arousal evident in her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing had clearly overcome her initial reserve. With trembling fingers, she unfastened the ribbons at her throat and slowly drew the nightgown over her head, revealing a body similar to her sister's though with the softer curves of youth not yet hardened by childbearing or excessive court dieting.

"Beautiful," Bobby commented sincerely, never breaking his rhythm inside Margaret. "Come closer. Let your sister introduce us properly."

Eliza moved to the edge of the bed, her natural modesty fighting a visible battle with the arousal that had clearly overtaken her better judgment. Margaret reached for her sister's hand, pulling her down onto the mattress beside them.

"Touch him," Margaret encouraged, guiding Eliza's hand toward where Bobby's cock continued sliding in and out of her body. "Feel how hard he is, how much of him I'm taking."

With obvious trepidation mixed with curiosity, Eliza allowed her fingers to brush against the base of Bobby's shaft where it disappeared into her sister. The contact made her gasp, her eyes widening at the combination of rigid hardness and silken skin.

"Now touch yourself," Margaret continued, her voice strained as Bobby maintained his steady rhythm. "Show him how wet you're getting from watching us."

Eliza's blush deepened, but her hand moved between her own legs, fingers tentatively exploring her folds beneath the watchful gaze of both her sister and Bobby. Her inexperience was evident in her hesitant movements, though the wetness visible on her fingers confirmed her arousal despite her conscious reservations.

"That's it," Margaret encouraged, her words punctuated by gasps as Bobby began to increase his pace. "Show him how much you want him too."

Bobby maintained complete control despite the visual stimulation of watching Eliza's clumsy self-exploration alongside Margaret's enthusiastic reception of his thrusts. His superhuman physiology allowed him to regulate his responses with precision impossible for normal men, ensuring he could prolong the encounter indefinitely if desired.

"Would you like to taste him?" Margaret asked her sister suddenly, the question causing Eliza's movements to falter momentarily.

"I—I don't know how," Eliza admitted, her voice small despite the evident desire in her expression.

Bobby slowed his movements, studying the younger woman with calculated interest. "There's no requirement to participate beyond your comfort," he assured her, his voice steady despite the vigorous activity he'd been engaged in moments before. "Observation alone is perfectly acceptable."

"No," Eliza replied, surprising both Bobby and her sister with her sudden decisiveness. "I want to try. Margaret says it's... that the taste is unlike anything else."

Bobby carefully withdrew from Margaret, his cock glistening with her juices as it emerged from her body. Margaret made a sound of disappointment at the interruption, but quickly shifted to a kneeling position beside him.

"Watch me first," she instructed her sister, taking Bobby's length in her hand. "See how I use my tongue around the head? That's where he's most sensitive."

With practiced expertise, Margaret demonstrated her technique, licking broad stripes up the underside of Bobby's cock before taking the head into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she applied suction, her hand working the shaft where her mouth couldn't reach.

After several moments of this demonstration, she released him with an audible pop. "Your turn," she told Eliza, directing her sister into position. "Don't worry about taking too much. Just start with the head and use your tongue like I showed you."

Eliza moved hesitantly forward, her eyes wide as Bobby's impressive manhood bobbed before her face. With visible trepidation, she extended her tongue, giving the head an experimental lick that made her eyes widen further.

"It tastes... different than I expected," she murmured, before taking another, more confident lick. "Not unpleasant, just... unusual."

"Take it in your mouth," Margaret encouraged, moving behind her sister and placing guiding hands on her shoulders. "Just the head at first. That's it."

Eliza followed her sister's instruction, her lips stretching around the broad head of Bobby's cock. Her technique was obviously inexperienced—too much teeth, insufficient suction—but her enthusiasm made up for these shortcomings as she attempted to replicate what she'd observed.

"Relax your jaw," Bobby suggested gently, his hand coming to rest lightly on her head. "Don't try to take too much too quickly."

Margaret moved to kneel beside her sister, her hand stroking Bobby's shaft while Eliza continued her awkward but enthusiastic oral exploration. "See how he responds to different movements of your tongue?" she pointed out. "Try circling just under the head—yes, like that."

The sisters continued this impromptu lesson, Margaret providing instruction while Eliza gradually grew more confident in her movements. Bobby maintained perfect control throughout, allowing them to direct the encounter despite being nominally the dominant participant.

After several minutes, Margaret grew impatient with the instructional pace. "I need him inside me again," she announced, moving back onto the bed and positioning herself on hands and knees. "Fuck me from behind, Bobby. Let Eliza see how deep you can go that way."

Bobby gently disengaged from Eliza's increasingly enthusiastic attentions. "Continue watching if you prefer," he told her, moving behind her sister. "Or you might explore yourself more thoroughly while observing."

Eliza nodded, settling herself at the head of the bed where she could watch Bobby positioning himself behind Margaret. Her hand returned between her thighs, her movements more confident now as arousal overcame her earlier hesitations.

Bobby gripped Margaret's hips, aligning himself with her entrance before pushing forward in a single smooth motion that buried him completely inside her. The angle allowed for deeper penetration than the previous position, drawing a sharp cry from Margaret as he bottomed out against her cervix.

"Fuck!" she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. "So deep! God, it's so fucking deep like this!"

Bobby established a powerful rhythm, his hips slapping against Margaret's ass with each thrust. The **** drove her forward on the bed until she braced herself against the headboard, her knuckles white as she pushed back to meet each powerful stroke.

Eliza watched with fascination, her fingers working more rapidly between her legs as the raw carnality of the scene ignited her own desires beyond mere curiosity. Her breathing had become ragged, her nipples visibly tightened into hard peaks that Bobby noted with professional interest despite his focus on thoroughly satisfying Margaret.

"Touch your sister," Bobby suggested, never breaking his powerful rhythm. "See how sensitive her nipples have become from our activities."

Margaret moaned encouragement at this suggestion, and after a moment's hesitation, Eliza reached out to cup one of her sister's swinging breasts. The contact drew another cry from Margaret, her body clenching visibly around Bobby's invading length.

"Pinch them," Margaret gasped, pushing her chest more firmly into her sister's tentative touch. "Hard, the way I like it."

Eliza complied with increasing confidence, rolling her sister's nipple between her fingers before applying pressure that would have been painful in less aroused circumstances. Margaret's response—a keening wail of pleasure—encouraged Eliza to continue this experimentation, her other hand still working between her own legs.

Bobby maintained his powerful rhythm, watching as Eliza's inhibitions gradually dissolved in the face of overwhelming arousal. He could see her approaching her own climax despite the indirect nature of her participation, her fingers moving with increasing urgency as she stimulated herself while watching his cock pistoning in and out of her sister's willing body.

"I'm getting close," Margaret warned, her voice ragged with approaching orgasm. "Don't stop! Fuck me harder!"

Bobby complied, increasing both speed and **** until the entire bed shook with the power of his thrusts. Margaret's cries grew louder, less coherent, as she approached her peak. When her climax hit, her entire body convulsed, inner muscles clamping around Bobby's cock with pulsing contractions he could have resisted but chose to enjoy.

"Fuck!" Margaret screamed, the crude word exploding from her aristocratic lips as pleasure overwhelmed her. "I'm coming! Fuck, Bobby, I'm coming so hard!"

Her violent orgasm triggered Eliza's own climax, the younger sister crying out in surprised pleasure as her fingers brought her to unexpected completion. Bobby watched with satisfaction as both women shuddered through their respective releases, maintaining his relentless pace inside Margaret to prolong her pleasure.

As Margaret's climax began to subside, Bobby carefully withdrew, his cock still rigid and glistening with her juices. "Turn over," he directed her, his voice carrying absolute authority despite its quiet delivery.

Margaret complied immediately, rolling onto her back with limbs still trembling from her powerful orgasm. Bobby positioned himself above her again, re-entering her with a single smooth thrust that **** the breath from her lungs in an audible gasp.

"Watch carefully, Eliza," he instructed, establishing a slower rhythm that allowed clear view of his shaft disappearing into Margaret's body. "See how her cunt stretches to accommodate my size? How her body accepts me completely despite the initial resistance?"

Eliza had recovered somewhat from her own climax, her cheeks flushed with mingled embarrassment and renewed arousal as she observed the explicit display. "It's remarkable," she admitted, her voice steadier than before despite the intimate nature of their activities. "I wouldn't have believed it possible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Would you like to feel it?" Bobby asked directly, maintaining his steady rhythm inside Margaret while fixing Eliza with his penetrating gaze. "Not necessarily with my cock, but perhaps my fingers might demonstrate how your body could eventually accommodate similar fullness."

Eliza swallowed visibly, her earlier climax having reduced but not eliminated her nervous hesitation. "I... yes," she finally whispered. "But I'm... that is, I've never..."

"Your maidenhead remains intact," Bobby finished for her, the statement rather than question delivered with characteristic directness. "I have no intention of changing that status tonight. There are many ways to experience pleasure without that particular barrier being breached."

Relief and disappointment warred visibly on Eliza's face, though the former ultimately prevailed. "Then yes, I would like to feel... something."

Margaret, despite being thoroughly preoccupied with Bobby's continued attention, managed to contribute to this negotiation. "Let him touch you, Eliza," she encouraged between gasps. "His fingers will make you come harder than anything you've ever felt before."

Bobby carefully adjusted his position, maintaining his connection with Margaret while creating space for Eliza to join them more directly. "Lie beside your sister," he instructed the younger woman. "Close enough that I can reach you comfortably."

Eliza complied with this direction, stretching out alongside Margaret with her thighs slightly parted in nervous invitation. Bobby continued his methodical thrusting into Margaret while his hand moved to explore Eliza's untouched sex, his fingers gently parting her folds to assess her readiness.

"You're already quite wet," he observed with clinical appreciation. "Your body responds naturally despite your conscious hesitations. That's excellent."

Eliza made a small sound—half embarrassment, half pleasure—as his fingers explored her most intimate areas with careful precision. Bobby took his time, mapping her responses to different types of touch while maintaining his steady rhythm inside Margaret. When his fingertip grazed Eliza's clitoris, her hips jerked upward involuntarily, a gasp escaping her lips.

"Sensitive here," Bobby noted, applying gentle circular pressure that immediately intensified her response. "And what about inside? Shall we explore that as well?"

"Yes," Eliza whispered, her legs spreading wider in **** invitation despite her verbal hesitation. "But... carefully. Please."

Bobby nodded, his finger moving lower to circle her entrance without yet pushing inside. The gentle teasing drew another gasp from Eliza, her hips tilting upward in **** encouragement. Margaret, watching this interaction despite her own continued pleasure, reached over to take her sister's hand.

"Relax," Margaret advised, squeezing Eliza's fingers. "It feels strange at first, but then it gets so good."

With careful precision, Bobby slid a single finger inside Eliza, moving slowly past the initial resistance until he was buried to the second knuckle. The tight grip of her virginal passage confirmed her stated inexperience, though her body's natural lubrication suggested genuine arousal rather than mere compliance with their activities.

"Breathe deeply," Bobby instructed as Eliza tensed around his invading digit. "Your body will adapt more quickly if you remain relaxed."

Following this direction, Eliza took several deep breaths, her inner muscles gradually relaxing around Bobby's finger. Once he felt this tension ease, he began a gentle in-and-out motion, carefully avoiding her hymen while stimulating the sensitive front wall of her passage.

"Oh!" Eliza gasped, her eyes widening at the unfamiliar but evidently pleasurable sensation. "That feels—I didn't know it could feel like that."

Bobby smiled, increasing the pressure slightly while maintaining his gentle rhythm. "This is merely the beginning of what your body could experience," he told her, his thumb returning to circle her clitoris as his finger continued its internal exploration.

While attending to Eliza's initiation, Bobby had maintained his steady pace inside Margaret, whose own pleasure had begun building toward another peak. The combination of visual stimulation from watching her sister's introduction to these activities and the physical sensation of Bobby's substantial cock moving within her had pushed Margaret back toward the edge surprisingly quickly.

"I'm going to come again," she announced breathlessly, her hands reaching up to pinch her own nipples. "Fuck me harder, Bobby. Let Eliza see what it looks like when you really pound me."

Bobby increased his pace accordingly, driving into Margaret with renewed vigor while maintaining his careful attention to Eliza's more delicate introduction. The contrast created a fascinating tableau—one sister receiving his full, powerful strength while the other experienced the gentlest introduction to physical pleasure under his skilled fingers.

"Watch her face," Bobby instructed Eliza, nodding toward Margaret whose expression had contorted with approaching ecstasy. "See how pleasure transforms her? Your body is capable of the same responses, though your journey there follows a different path than hers."

Eliza's attention shifted between the explicit visual of Bobby's cock hammering into her sister and Margaret's transported expression as another orgasm approached. Her own pleasure continued building under Bobby's skilled manipulation, her hips now moving in **** rhythm against his hand.

"I feel strange," she gasped, her free hand clutching at the bedsheet. "Like something's about to happen but I don't know what."

"You're approaching climax," Bobby explained, never breaking his dual rhythms—powerful thrusts into Margaret while his fingers worked their magic on Eliza's responsive body. "Don't fight it. Allow the sensation to build naturally."

Margaret reached her peak first, her back arching off the bed as she screamed her pleasure without regard for potential listeners beyond their chamber. The violent contractions of her inner muscles would have triggered most men's immediate release, but Bobby maintained perfect control, continuing his vigorous pace to extend her pleasure while focusing significant attention on guiding Eliza toward her own completion.

The younger sister followed moments later, her climax less experienced but no less powerful as it coursed through her body. Her thighs clamped around Bobby's hand, trapping his fingers inside her as waves of pleasure caused her virgin passage to contract rhythmically around the invading digit.

"Oh God!" Eliza cried, her eyes wide with shock at the intensity of sensation overwhelming her. "What's happening to me?"

"You're coming," Margaret explained through her own continued pleasure, squeezing her sister's hand tightly. "Just let it happen. Isn't it glorious?"

For several long moments, both sisters shuddered through their respective climaxes—Margaret's experienced body responding to Bobby's continued powerful thrusting, while Eliza discovered new heights of pleasure under his skilled manipulation. As their releases began to subside, Bobby carefully withdrew his finger from Eliza while maintaining his connection with Margaret.

"Now," he announced with calm authority that belied the vigorous activity he'd maintained throughout their encounter, "I'm going to come inside your sister. Watch carefully."

Eliza's eyes widened again, her gaze fixing on the point where Bobby's thick shaft continued sliding in and out of Margaret's thoroughly used passage. Bobby increased his pace one final time, his movements becoming more forceful as he allowed his own pleasure to build toward release.

"Yes!" Margaret encouraged, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Fill me up! Let me feel you coming inside me!"

With several final, powerful thrusts, Bobby allowed himself to reach completion, his substantial cock pulsing visibly as he pumped his seed deep into Margaret's willing body. The volume exceeded normal human production, quickly overflowing to run down Margaret's thighs despite the depth of his penetration.

"Fuck!" Margaret cried out, the sensation of his hot release triggering an unexpected aftershock of pleasure. "There's so much! God, I can feel it filling me completely!"

Eliza watched with fascination as evidence of Bobby's release continued escaping around his embedded shaft, the quantity far exceeding what she might have expected from her limited understanding of male physiology. "Is it always so... abundant?" she asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming embarrassment.

"Bobby is exceptional in every regard," Margaret confirmed, her body still shuddering with aftershocks as Bobby remained fully seated within her. "Including this particular aspect of his endowments."

More remarkable still to both sisters, Bobby's cock showed no sign of softening despite his evidently substantial release. When he carefully withdrew from Margaret's body, his manhood remained fully erect, glistening with the mixed fluids of their coupling but showing no reduction in either size or rigidity.

"How is that possible?" Eliza gasped, her eyes fixed on his still-imposing erection. "Margaret said you could remain hard through multiple releases, but I thought surely she was exaggerating."

"Another aspect of my exceptional stamina," Bobby replied with deliberate ambiguity that neither confirmed nor denied the supernatural nature of this capability. "Though perhaps more practically relevant—would you like to experience something more substantial than my finger without compromising your maidenhead?"

Eliza's teeth worried at her lower lip as she considered this offer, her gaze shifting between Bobby's intimidating erection and her sister's thoroughly satisfied expression. "I don't see how that's possible," she admitted. "Unless..."

"There are multiple approaches possible," Bobby explained with clinical precision despite the carnal nature of their discussion. "I could use my mouth on you, as I did initially with your sister. Or my fingers could prepare you more thoroughly while avoiding that particular barrier. Or..."

"Or?" Eliza prompted when he paused deliberately.

"Or I could take you from behind, between your thighs rather than actually entering you," Bobby suggested. "You would feel my size, experience the friction and pressure, without actual penetration compromising your technical virtue."

Margaret laughed breathlessly from her position beside them, still recovering from her multiple orgasms. "I highly recommend that option," she interjected. "He did that for me our first time together. It's almost as satisfying as the real thing."

Eliza considered this suggestion with surprising thoughtfulness given their explicit circumstances. "I would like to try that," she finally decided, her voice steadier than before despite the obvious arousal still evident in her flushed cheeks and hardened nipples. "If you're certain it won't... breach anything."

Bobby nodded, his expression remaining calm despite the carnal nature of their negotiation. "I'll maintain absolute control. Your technical virtue will remain intact regardless of how enthusiastic our activities might become."

With that assurance, Eliza allowed Bobby to guide her into position—on her hands and knees, similar to how Margaret had been positioned earlier. Bobby knelt behind her, his still-rigid cock pressing against the soft flesh of her buttocks without yet pushing between her thighs.

"Squeeze your legs together tightly," he instructed, his hands gently positioning her thighs to create the desired friction channel. "This will provide the necessary pressure."

Once Eliza had complied with this direction, Bobby carefully positioned his cock between her thighs, the broad head nudging against her outer labia without attempting to enter. The contact drew a soft gasp from Eliza, her body tensing momentarily before relaxing into the novel sensation.

"I'm going to move now," Bobby warned her, his hands gripping her hips to maintain control of their relative positions. "You'll feel significant pressure, but I won't penetrate you. Trust me to maintain appropriate boundaries."

With careful precision, Bobby began sliding his cock back and forth between Eliza's tightly pressed thighs. The substantial shaft rubbed against her external labia with each movement, creating stimulation without actual entry that drew increasingly enthusiastic responses from the inexperienced girl.

"Oh!" she gasped as the head of his cock brushed against her clitoris during a particularly well-aimed thrust. "That feels incredible!"

Margaret, having recovered somewhat from her own exertions, moved to watch this interaction with obvious interest. "Reach between your legs," she suggested to her sister. "Feel how big he is while he slides against you."

Eliza followed this suggestion, her hand moving beneath her body to explore the substantial shaft moving between her thighs. Her fingers traced its impressive girth with evident wonder, occasionally brushing against her own sensitive tissues in ways that heightened her pleasure.

"It's so hard," she marveled, her fingers wrapping around the portion of Bobby's shaft visible between her legs. "Yet the skin feels so soft. How curious."

Bobby maintained a careful rhythm, ensuring significant stimulation for Eliza while scrupulously avoiding actual penetration despite her increasingly enthusiastic movements. The tight channel created by her pressed thighs provided sufficient friction to be pleasurable without approaching the intensity that might trigger premature release despite his superhuman control.

"Try pushing back against me," he suggested as Eliza grew more comfortable with this arrangement. "Find the rhythm that provides the most pleasure for your particular anatomy."

Taking this direction to heart, Eliza began experimenting with different movements—changing the angle of her hips, varying the pressure of her thighs, pushing back with different timing against Bobby's controlled thrusts. The exploration revealed an unexpectedly confident sensuality beneath her previous nervous hesitation.

"Yes, like that," Bobby encouraged as she found a particularly effective combination that caused his cock to slide directly against her clitoris with each movement. "That position maximizes your pleasure while maintaining appropriate boundaries."

Margaret, not content with merely observing, moved beneath her sister to access her dangling breasts. "Let me help," she offered, her mouth closing around one of Eliza's nipples while her hand reached up to tease the other.

The combined stimulation—Bobby's substantial cock moving between her thighs, Margaret's attention to her sensitive breasts, her own fingers exploring the impressive shaft sliding against her most intimate areas—quickly pushed Eliza toward another climax. Her movements became less coordinated, more instinctive, as pleasure built toward inevitable release.

"I think I'm going to—again—like before," she gasped, her thighs trembling with approaching orgasm.

"Don't fight it," Bobby advised, maintaining his steady rhythm despite her increasingly erratic movements. "Allow the sensation to build naturally."

When her climax hit, Eliza cried out with surprised intensity, her body shuddering between Bobby behind her and Margaret beneath. The powerful contractions would have drawn most men immediately to their own completion, but Bobby maintained perfect control, continuing his methodical movements to extend her pleasure without approaching his own release.

As Eliza's climax began to subside, Margaret extracted herself from beneath her sister, moving to kneel beside Bobby with an expression of hungry anticipation. "My turn again," she announced, her hand reaching for his still-rigid cock as it continued sliding between Eliza's thighs.

Bobby allowed Margaret to guide him away from her sister, Eliza collapsing onto the bed with a satisfied moan as the stimulation ceased. Margaret positioned herself on her back, legs spread in explicit invitation as she guided Bobby's considerable length toward her entrance.

"Fill me again," she demanded, all pretense of aristocratic refinement abandoned in favor of raw carnality. "I want to feel you coming inside me one more time."

Bobby complied with this direct request, entering Margaret with a single powerful thrust that buried him completely. Her body, already thoroughly stretched from their previous activities, accepted him easily despite his substantial size. He established an immediate vigorous pace, recognizing Margaret's clear preference for intense stimulation rather than gentle lovemaking.

"Fuck yes!" she cried, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper with each thrust. "Harder! Make me feel it tomorrow when I'm sitting through those tedious council meetings!"

Bobby increased his **** accordingly, driving into Margaret with power that would have injured a less experienced partner. The bed frame creaked ominously beneath them, the entire massive structure sliding slightly across the polished floor with each powerful thrust.

Eliza, recovering from her own recent climax, watched this vigorous coupling with renewed fascination. The raw power of their interaction contrasted sharply with the careful consideration Bobby had shown during her own introduction to physical pleasure, revealing the range of his capabilities depending on his partner's preferences and experience.

"Does it hurt?" she asked her sister, genuine curiosity evident in her voice as she observed Margaret's contorted expression.

"God no," Margaret gasped between powerful thrusts. "It's—fuck!—it's perfect. The edge of pain just makes the pleasure more intense."

Bobby maintained his punishing pace, adjusting his angle to hit the spots he knew from experience would push Margaret most quickly toward another peak. His superhuman stamina allowed him to continue this vigorous activity indefinitely, though he recognized the value of concluding this particular encounter while both sisters remained capable of appreciating its final moments.

"I'm close again," Margaret warned, her fingers digging into Bobby's shoulders hard enough to leave marks that would have lingered on normal human skin. "Don't you dare stop!"

"I intend to join you this time," Bobby informed her, his voice remaining steady despite the vigorous exertion he'd maintained throughout their extended encounter. "Where would you prefer I finish?"

"Inside me," Margaret demanded without hesitation. "I want to feel you filling me up again. Let Eliza see what happens when you really let go."

Bobby nodded, increasing his pace one final time as he allowed his own pleasure to build toward release. Margaret's experienced body responded enthusiastically, her inner muscles beginning to contract rhythmically as another orgasm approached.

"Now!" she screamed as climax claimed her, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through her thoroughly experienced body. "Come with me! Fill me up!"

Bobby allowed his own release to coincide with her peak, his substantial cock pulsing visibly as he pumped another impossibly copious load deep into Margaret's willing body. As before, the volume exceeded normal human production, quickly overflowing despite the depth of his penetration to create rivulets down Margaret's thighs and onto the already stained bedsheets.

Eliza watched with fascination as evidence of Bobby's release continued escaping around his embedded shaft, the quantity far exceeding any biological explanation she might have conceived. More remarkable still, even after this second substantial emission, Bobby's cock showed no sign of softening when he carefully withdrew from Margaret's thoroughly satisfied body.

"How can you possibly still be...?" Eliza gestured vaguely toward his persistently rigid member, her exhaustion momentarily overcoming her previously recovered vocabulary.

"Another aspect of my exceptional constitution," Bobby replied with characteristic ambiguity. "Though perhaps more relevant to your immediate interests—would you like to experience something more before we conclude this evening's activities?"

Eliza glanced at her sister, whose expression of utter satisfaction suggested the thoroughness of Bobby's attentions. After a moment's consideration, the younger woman shook her head reluctantly.

"I think I've experienced quite enough for one introduction," she admitted, though her gaze remained fixed on Bobby's still-imposing erection. "Though I confess some curiosity regarding how many times you might... continue... in a single evening."

Bobby smiled enigmatically. "That particular limit remains undetermined," he replied, the statement technically accurate given his superhuman physiology. "Perhaps future explorations might investigate that boundary more thoroughly, should you decide such activities merit continuation."

Margaret laughed breathlessly from her position on the bed, her limbs still trembling from the intensity of her multiple orgasms. "My dear sister, I can personally attest that five consecutive completions produced no visible reduction in either enthusiasm or capability. Beyond that, I lacked sufficient stamina to continue empirical observation."

Eliza's eyes widened at this report, her gaze returning to Bobby with renewed assessment. "Truly remarkable," she murmured, more to herself than her companions. "I had believed Margaret's descriptions exaggerated for dramatic effect."

"I never exaggerate regarding matters of such importance," Margaret replied with mock seriousness, pushing herself upright with visible effort. "Though I suggest we conclude tonight's exploration before our absence from our assigned chambers generates uncomfortable questions from other guests."

Bobby nodded in agreement, moving to retrieve a basin of clean water and soft cloths he had arranged in anticipation of their activities. With surprising tenderness given the vigorous nature of their recent coupling, he helped both sisters clean themselves, the gesture containing genuine consideration rather than merely perfunctory attention.

"You've been most... educational," Eliza told him as she redressed in her discarded nightgown, her earlier nervousness now replaced with the satisfied lassitude of physical fulfillment. "Though I confess some uncertainty regarding how to process these experiences within existing moral frameworks."

Bobby laughed, the sound containing genuine amusement rather than mockery at her philosophical concerns. "Perhaps consider that pleasure shared willingly between consenting participants harms none, regardless of arbitrary moral structures imposed by those seeking control rather than genuine ethical consideration."

Margaret rolled her eyes at this philosophical turn in their post-coital conversation. "My sister requires several days to analyze experiences through multiple theoretical lenses," she explained to Bobby with fond exasperation. "By week's end, she'll have reconciled tonight's activities with both classical virtue ethics and contemporary Christian doctrine through some remarkably creative intellectual gymnastics."

Eliza huffed indignantly at this characterization, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the satisfied flush still evident on her cheeks. "Practical experience necessarily informs theoretical understanding," she defended herself. "Aristotle himself advocated experiential knowledge as foundation for ethical reasoning."

"I'm certain Aristotle would approve wholeheartedly of tonight's particular experiential education," Bobby remarked dryly, helping Margaret back into her nightgown with gentlemanly courtesy that contrasted sharply with their recent carnal activities. "Though perhaps his specific commentaries on the matter might prove somewhat limited by his own cultural context."

As the sisters prepared to depart, Bobby escorted them to the chamber door with formal politeness that maintained appropriate public appearance despite the intimate nature of their concluded activities. "I trust you found the evening's... consultation... sufficiently informative?" he inquired, his choice of words deliberately obscuring the explicit nature of their encounter should anyone happen to overhear.

"Most thoroughly," Margaret confirmed with a knowing smile. "Though perhaps additional... clarification... might prove necessary in future should questions arise regarding specific techniques or approaches."

"I remain available for such scholarly consultation as circumstances permit," Bobby assured them, his expression revealing none of the sardonic amusement these euphemisms provoked within his ancient perspective. "Though perhaps individual sessions might prove more productive than joint inquiry, given the different levels of existing knowledge between participants."

Eliza blushed at this thinly veiled suggestion of future private encounters, though her expression suggested the possibility held considerable appeal despite her lingering philosophical reservations. "Independent study does offer certain advantages," she acknowledged with unexpected boldness that suggested significant development from her earlier nervous hesitation.

With final courteous farewells appropriate to their nominal social positions rather than the carnal activities they had just engaged in, the Fitzwilliam sisters departed, leaving Bobby alone in the azure chamber. He surveyed the thoroughly disheveled bedding with clinical assessment of the evening's activities, making mental note to ensure the servants received additional compensation for the extensive laundering that would clearly be required.

The night remained young by his superhuman standards, despite activities that would have exhausted most mortal men several times over. Checking the ornate clock on the mantelpiece, Bobby confirmed sufficient time remained before his scheduled appointment with the Viscountess Beaumont—a woman whose particular preferences required more elaborate preparations than the relatively straightforward encounters he had just concluded.

With efficient movements that revealed none of the fatigue normal humans would have experienced after such vigorous activities, Bobby began preparing for his next visitor of the evening. The Viscountess appreciated certain specialized equipment he maintained in the adjacent chamber—implements designed for pleasure that balanced on the knife-edge between pain and ecstasy.

As he arranged these items with methodical precision, Bobby reflected briefly on the extraordinary contrast between these carnal diversions and his actual purpose in this timeline. Elizabeth Tudor remained his primary focus despite these recreational activities—her eventual coronation representing his core commitment regardless of how many aristocratic women passed through his bedchamber in the interim.

These thoughts occupied him only momentarily before he returned his full attention to preparing for the Viscountess's impending arrival. The night had barely begun by his standards, with three more encounters scheduled before dawn would require his focus returning to matters of actual significance regarding the Tudor succession and England's historical trajectory.

---

The first light of dawn filtered through ornate windows as Bobby fastened the final buttons of his doublet, his appearance immaculate despite the extraordinary exertions of the previous night. In the massive bed behind him, Katherine Herbert lay in exhausted slumber, her body bearing subtle marks from their vigorous activities despite his careful restraint regarding her more limited experience compared to his earlier visitors.

Unlike the Fitzwilliam sisters' relatively straightforward introduction or the Viscountess Beaumont's elaborate dominance scenarios, Miss Herbert had sought something between these extremes—passionate intensity without the formal power exchange the Viscountess preferred. Lady Anne Wentworth, his midnight appointment, had proven the most technically adventurous, her continental education having exposed her to practices many English noblewomen would have found shocking despite their otherwise enthusiastic participation.

Bobby studied Katherine's sleeping form with detached appreciation, noting the marks that would fade within days despite their current vivid appearance against her pale skin. She had proven surprisingly resilient despite her relatively limited experience, matching his stamina far longer than he had initially anticipated given her youth and sheltered upbringing.

A soft knock at the door announced Harrington's arrival with precisely scheduled timing that reflected his exceptional competence as Bobby's primary living agent. Bobby opened the door to find his assistant waiting with fresh clothing and a selection of correspondence requiring immediate attention despite the early hour.

"I trust your evening proved... productive, my lord?" Harrington inquired with perfect professional neutrality despite the obvious nature of the activities that had occupied Bobby's night.

"Productive seems an inappropriate characterization given the recreational nature of these encounters," Bobby replied with sardonic amusement. "Though perhaps 'satisfying' might better describe the general outcome for all participants."

Harrington's expression remained carefully composed despite the subject matter. "The servants have been informed regarding the necessary chamber preparations," he reported with efficient professionalism. "Though perhaps additional compensation might be warranted given the... extensive nature of the required laundering in the Viscountess's preferred chamber."

Bobby suppressed a smile at this diplomatic reference to the particularly enthusiastic nature of his encounter with the Viscountess, whose preferences had indeed created substantial additional work for the household staff. "Arrange appropriate additional payment," he agreed, scanning the correspondence Harrington had brought. "And perhaps some extra consideration for those attending the azure and crimson chambers as well."

"Very good, my lord." Harrington made a note in the small book he carried for such purposes. "Lady Elizabeth has requested morning consultation regarding certain historical texts discovered in the library yesterday evening. She suggested the eastern conservatory following breakfast would provide appropriate setting for such scholarly discussion."

Bobby nodded, unsurprised by Elizabeth's efficient approach to continuing their intellectual exchanges despite the complex emotional undercurrents that had developed during their previous evening's conversation. "Inform Her Highness that I shall attend her at the suggested time and location," he directed, returning the correspondence to Harrington after noting several items requiring later attention.

"As you wish, my lord." Harrington hesitated momentarily, an unusual breach in his normally flawless professional demeanor. "If I might make an observation, my lord? Perhaps marginally exceeding my appropriate position?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow at this unprecedented request from his normally scrupulously correct assistant. "Proceed," he permitted, genuine curiosity overriding his usual dismissal of unsolicited commentary.

"The rumors regarding your... stamina... have already reached even the lower servants," Harrington stated with careful neutrality that nonetheless contained subtle warning. "While such reputation may enhance certain aspects of your position among the nobility, it creates potential complications regarding Princess Elizabeth's ongoing association with your household. Court gossip increasingly suggests impropriety despite Her Highness's well-known preference for maintaining appropriate distance from potential suitors."

Bobby considered this observation with genuine attention despite the presumption it represented coming from a social inferior. "Your concern is noted and appreciated, Harrington," he acknowledged after brief consideration. "Though perhaps unnecessary given Elizabeth Tudor's remarkable capacity for maintaining royal dignity regardless of surrounding circumstances."

"Of course, my lord." Harrington inclined his head in acknowledgment of this gentle rebuke regarding potential overstepping. "I merely thought the information might prove relevant to your broader strategic considerations."

Bobby nodded, recognizing the genuine consideration behind Harrington's unusual initiative despite its technical impropriety. "Information always proves valuable regardless of source or apparent immediate relevance," he assured his assistant. "Continue such observations whenever you believe they might contribute to comprehensive strategic awareness."

As Harrington departed to continue his morning duties, Bobby cast a final glance at Katherine Herbert's sleeping form before quietly closing the chamber door behind him. The servants would attend her awakening with appropriate refreshments and assistance returning to her assigned quarters, while he proceeded to his private chambers for preparation regarding his scheduled consultation with Elizabeth.