As December draws nearer I cannot help but recall the past year and what a change it has meant for me. A year ago I was living with the Duke of the Shire's sister and we were partying the nights away as if there were no tomorrow. It was oh so frivolous compared to the life I am leading now, however I have those memories that I will always look back on fondly. There was never a dull moment with the Duke's sister.

Now I am worlds apart in Bohemia, not completely alone, but certainly not the centre of attention in a tizzy of soirées as before. I had both the White Knight and the blonde Esquire at my beck and call, whereas now I am completely independent, only indulging my sexual appetite with the Duke of Albany. I spent long enough in the cloisters of the Convent over the summer that I think it is only fair to make the most of the winter months, wrapped up in furs and listening to the fires roar and crackle while we... Well, I'll leave that much to your imagination. 

I have finally asked the Duke if he would join me in the Shire over the Christmas tidings and he has accepted my invitation. I have had to write to my mother and let her know there shall be company for the festivities, but because it is a man of nobility my mother will have already started planning the wedding in her head. Poor Albany does not know what he has got himself into. 

It is sometimes unnerving to think that I met the Duke so many months ago without realising it was him. Those piercing blue eyes have a way of hypnotising me and often I think I'm sparring with the lowly messenger rather than the grandchild of Bohemia (his words, not mine).

Life is currently everything I could ask for; I have the time to write and have accomplished so much in the last thirty days, as well as having the Duke to converse with while we concentrate on fulfilling dreams I didn't even know I had. The Shire calls as Christmas should be spent with friends and family, but Bohemia is the perfect surrogate home. 



D. S.

As I open my eyes with the winter sun streaming on to my face, I can't help but blink at the sunshine as I recall the despicable acts I was party to this time last week. How I wish it were possible to click my fingers and have my body worshipped once again and twisted into almost unimaginable positions, but it seems the Duke of Albany has other ideas. 

The week has been rather uneventful; snow has fallen atop the mountains and predictions have been made for the first snows in the cities over the next couple of days. The Duke and I have corresponded every day, and it is not all rainbows and sunshine. We discuss education and the welfare of the masses and how our two different countries choose to look after their own. 

He is rather old fashioned in the sense that women in Bohemia are only educated as far as it is deemed necessary to find a husband (or so the men think). But since I have cavorted again with the Sapphic delight from earlier this month and we conversed as well as feasted on each other, I have learnt that women in Bohemia are seriously undervalued. Not only do they run households far larger than I could even conceive, farm land and tithes and serfs are considered a part of a woman's repertoire. Men it seems do all the talking, but are incapable of getting their hands dirty.

Though of course the Duke of Albany refutes this position, and he even teased the notion that I was corrupting the fine young women of Bohemia with my modern views. It is true that I have been ever so fortunate to travel the world with only a small retinue of handmaids and chaperones. I cannot think of another woman who has done so, where as men are able to take a Grande Tour at their leisure, and nobody thinks anything of it.

I have four weeks in Bohemia until I return to the Shire for the Christmas tidings. I have hinted to the Duke that he would be most welcome to visit, but I do not want to give any indications that our lust affair is anything more than that. God forbid notions of love bury their way into our passionate embraces!

I look unruly as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is dishevelled and I need sleep; last night I found it difficult to fall into slumber as my brain played around with the words I have written for myself. Sleep is not what I crave, but as the Duke has once again disappeared, I turn to my musings and continue to write. 



D. S.

How can I describe the weekend I've had to bid a sad farewell to? More than fond memories of pleasures and pains are brought to my attention as my body aches with every step,  muscles having been stretched into familiar and oh-so-missed positions. It had been far too long; I do not negate the touch of a woman, she was everything I longed for then... This weekend however I was ravished by a man, and sometimes there is nothing like it. 

I daren't divulge any more of my licentious weekend  (though I fear I may have already said too much) but shall give a necessary insight to my less physical lifestyle choices. 

My writing has once again become the forefront of all my decisions. I write every day (when not consumed by passion) and I long to have my words published; if only I had the stamina and determination to finish something! 

So I write, more than little fancies and musings and diary entries. I write stories, praying if only one person ever reads them, they shall bring a short window of happiness. More selfishly I hope to one day read them to my children. It is impossible to think of my future without children, I spend my days with the future of Bohemia (when not in the Duke's company) and I long to have children of my own. One day, not yet. 

The winter nights lengthen and we've been shrouded in a dense fog for over a week now. Snow is on the tips of everyone's tongues as we count down the days, watching as the mountains seem to have topped themselves with a soft sprinkling. 

The markets are delicious with the smells of cinnamon and spices permeating from the town centre, they are most delightful. I am ever so happy here but I know I shall journey to spend Christmas in the Shire with my lords and ladies. The Duke has intimated his desire to follow me to my home, wanting to broaden his horizons. I have not yet offered a formal invitation but I do so want him to accompany me... I shall have to see what Jeeves has to say about the matter. 

D. S.

To think ten days have passed since I last married quill, ink and parchment to declare the troubled thoughts in my head. I have been silent only because I have been enraptured by life, caught in its clasp and have not yet tried to fight against the inevitability. 

I am still ensnared, but while the body next to me breathes softly in their sleep, I am free to write and to give you a brief encounter of what has occurred.

The Duke of Albany and I have fought. And forgiven. And argued. And apologised. And screamed profanities to enrage the other, while letting the words melt away and making up most vehemently. It is exhausting spending time with him as I can never fathom what mood shall take him, yet the moments when I am in the presence of someone calm and predictable I long for the Duke's outbursts.

He has devised many reasons for us to spend more time together, and Jeeves has sanctioned to be a part of it no more. He claims he cannot watch over me for with every second I spend with the Duke I dangle deliriously close to a breach of fraternising, that Jeeves doesn't wish to be a party to. Of course I allowed Jeeves the freedom to disappear expertly when the time called, and the Duke has many excuses for us to spend time together.

It does continue to surprise me that the Duke knows my past almost better than I do; I had no idea my reputation had spanned an entire Continent (even the incidents in Iberia, and with the brunette) and for purely physical reasons I understand why the Duke seems infatuated with me. 

I don't know whether Jeeves knew what the Duke had planned or not, but it was a timely exit for his chaperoning, as the Duke presented me with a choice. The deviant games we play should not be made public, I know that much - for how else does a reputation travel so fast? But I cannot keep my pleasure to myself. It should be for the world to share.

We were lounging in his library, comparing ideas about the recklessness of Fanny Hill when the Duke mentioned his intrigue about Sapphic love. At first I rolled my eyes, for what man does not want more than he can handle, but as I tried to explain the love between two women, the Duke clicked his fingers and proudly presented me with a carnal delight of the female flesh. 



So beautiful she stood, fair hair tumbling to her waist, a simple cloak covering her desirable figure. I unknowingly licked my lips as I stared, not able to comprehend what it was the Duke was asking. He whispered in the woman's ear words that I could not hear, and she smiled, stepping forward and reaching for my hand, the cloak falling from her bare shoulders. 

Names were one of the few things not exchanged as the heat of the room made us forget any principles and we feasted on the electrifying lust between us. The Duke, ever the gentleman, left at some point, for I never felt his hands upon my body, and I have to admit I was rather preoccupied with the svelte figure wrapped around me to notice much more. She still lies in the bed next to me, and it has been more than three days since the Duke left me to my Sapphic tendencies. 

I'm sure a game is being played, and I'm sure I shall lose out in the end, but hedonism is living for the moment, and who am I to refuse the beauty of another woman? She awakes... I shall have to disappear again, for how long I do not know, nor care. I only wonder when the Duke shall return to claim what is his...



D. S.