A Duchess Enraged (2 page)

Allegra nodded her
head and made a mental note to thank her father, who never seemed to be quite
certain who she was when he encountered her, for his thoughtfulness.

"And when you
meet Treveine, I want you to be polite and give him your best smile. This is
the memory of you he will take on his journey, and you want it to be a positive
one. This is as much a surprise to him as it is to you, and he may be a
little...well, reluctant to be married. So be very pleasant and let him see
what a well-bred lady he is wedding."

Allegra wondered how
she could possibly make an impression on a young man as fashionable and elegant
as Viscount Treveine. It would be wonderful if he was kind and perhaps
sympathetic to her feelings, but she doubted he would be that understanding. He
was known for his ability to drink vast quantities of liquor and lose large
amounts of money at the gaming tables, not for his sympathetic nature.

"There,"
announced Margaret. "That will just have to do."

Lady Redecombe
stepped back and looked at Allegra, making a moue of disappointment. "It's
a pity that we could not get a dress made," she said. "This will be
presentable, I suppose."

Allegra turned to the
mirror and stared at herself in astonishment. The old dress of her sister's was
not a success. Maria was buxom, and despite Margaret's best efforts the dress
hung on Allegra's undeveloped frame. The style of the dress was two years
out-moded, and the pink color, which had suited Maria's flaxen curls and blue
eyes as well as any color, was unfortunate with Allegra's red hair. She looked
like a little ghost with freckles gazing out of the mirror.

"Oh,
Mother," she breathed. "I look a fright. Can't I wear one of my own
dresses?"

"You can't be
married in a school girl's dress," said her mother. "It's too bad
this doesn't suit you a little better, but it will hardly matter. By the time
Treveine sees you again you will be grown and can pick your own clothes. Come
along now. Say goodbye to your sister. Don't cling now, Jemima, Allegra will be
back tonight."

Allegra swallowed her
tears and followed her mother out of the room. She held her head as high as she
could; she knew it would take all the pride she had to get through the
afternoon.

Several hours later
Allegra perched nervously on the edge of a spindle-legged chair, gazing
anxiously about the drawing room at Gravesmere House. Her parents stood a
little apart, chatting amiably with the duke and his duchess. The ladies were
sipping ratafia and discussing the latest fashions, while the gentlemen were
comparing the merits of their horses over glasses of port. Allegra sighed. Her
future in-law had greeted her kindly enough upon her arrival, but now she
seemed to be quite forgotten.

The duke looked at
his wife and scowled. "Where is that scamp, Emily?" he demanded.
"It's nearly three-o-clock."

The duchess smiled.
"I've sent Thomas to fetch him. He will be here momentarily."

The duke nodded.
"I won't lie to you, George," he said to the earl. "Adam was not
happy when I told him of our plan. I thought he would refuse for a few moments,
but I hold the purse strings, and he was forced to capitulate."

"Hush, Charles.
Allegra is here." Emily laid a restraining hand on her husband's arm.

The duke shot Allegra
guilty glance and then shrugged. "I doubt it's news to her. And it won't
do for her to have romantic notions. Adam will come around. In a few years
he'll see why we did this. The truth doesn't bother you, does it Allegra? After
all, you're to be a duchess. What woman wouldn't want that, hey?"

"Y-Yes,
sir," stammered Allegra. "Or rather, no, sir."

"You see? She's
a sensible little thing. Just what's needed." The duke took another sip of
port and glanced at the door. "I'll fetch that boy myself, if I have
to."

"Hush, Charles.
He'll be here soon."

At that moment the
door to the drawing room swung open, and Adam, Viscount Treveine entered.
Allegra's blue eyes widened at her first sight of her husband-to-be. She had
the immediate impression of remarkable beauty, of broad shoulders, slim hips,
and angelically fair hair. Brilliant green eyes flashed in a face that was
impressively handsome, with a strong chin, fine, high cheekbones, and full,
well-sculpted lips. She gave a tiny gasp of astonishment and delight. But her
pleasure was immediately dashed by her second look, when she realized his
beauty was marred by a look of petulance and annoyance. Adam, it seemed, was
very unhappy with the position he found himself in.

"Ah, there you
are, my boy," said the duke jovially. "Come here and say hello to
your future parents-in-law. You know my lord and lady Redecombe, I
believe."

Adam bowed abruptly.
"We have met many times, sir. Welcome to Gravesmere House."

The earl stepped
forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Pleased to see you again, my
boy. I can't tell you how happy we are to welcome you to the family."

Adam stiffened and
glared at the earl from under his thick lashes. "Thank you, my lord."
His voice was forbidding.

Redecombe appeared to
be unfazed by Adam's evident hostility. "I am most pleased with this
match, my boy. Allegra is a fine girl and will make you a happy man. You'll
find her to be docile and gentle, just what you're looking for in a wife.
She'll not give you any trouble."

Adam managed a brief,
cold smile. It was increasingly apparent to Allegra that it was only by keeping
the tightest rein on himself that he was managing to control his temper.

"And here is
your bride," continued the earl, approaching Allegra and taking her hand.
Flustered, she rose hastily to her feet, trying to shake out the folds of the
pink dress that hung on her like a sack. She gazed up at her husband to be, her
pale eyes pleading for some sort of sympathy or understanding.

Adam's green eyes
filled with surprise and then shock as he took in his bride. Allegra was only
too aware that the dress clashed with her red hair, and the pastel color drew
whatever color she possessed out of her skin. She held herself awkwardly,
trying to hide the embarrassment that swamped her. Tears formed in the corners
of her eyes and threatened to spill over.

Adam swung away from
her and turned on his father, clearly too furious to think clearly.
"Surely you are not going to marry me to this?" he demanded
"She's as plain as can be! I'll be a laughingstock among my friends!"

The duke seized Adam
by the arm and shook him roughly. "Do not embarrass me more than you
already have, my boy!" he snapped. "You will marry Allegra and you
will do it with a becoming air of grace."

Adam turned away with
an angry exclamation. Allegra, her knees shaking slightly, was led to his side,
and her cold little hand was placed in his. The clergyman approached, wreathed
in smiles, and spoke the words of the wedding ceremony over them. Allegra could
hear the fury in Adam's voice as he made his responses, and she could feel the
tension in his body as he stood next to her. He hates me, she thought
miserably, and who can blame him? She glanced at him and their eyes met
briefly, but she detected no spark of interest or concern. Any hopes she had
cherished of possibly striking up a friendship with her husband withered away.
This marriage, it seemed, was doomed from the start.

A Message from the
Dowager

Servants roamed the
card room of Madame de Sauvonville’s charming town house, replacing the candles
for a third time that evening as they guttered due to the lateness of the hour.
Adam, Duke of Gravesmere, tossed his cards on the green baize of the table,
drained his glass of wine, and turned to his companion.

“I’ve had enough of
cards, Roussier,” he drawled. “Let us adjourn to the salon and see what risqué
entertainments La Sauvonville is providing this evening. “

“Half-naked whores as
usual my dear Gravesmere,” his friend responded, but with a swirl of his claret
satin coat skirts Roussier did as his English friend requested.

“It’s true that it
won’t be new, but perhaps it will be novel.” Gravesmere smiled and strode out,
his unpowdered head rising above those of the other gentlemen present. In the
salon he glanced over the crowd of elegant noblemen, many of them accompanied
by the ladies of the house, or masked ladies of Society who wished to enjoy
daring yet private pleasures. At the front of the room two women, nearly
unclothed, caressed each other in a way that much of the audience clearly found
arousing.

“Somewhat shopworn,
aren’t they?” he asked Roussier, as his eyes roved around the room. He stopped
abruptly and smiled, his brilliant but somewhat jaded green eyes gleaming.

“Now there’s a fresh
lass,” he remarked of a young woman serving wine. The neckline of her gown had
rocketed past demure and daring to stop just past indecent, at the point where
her corset lacings ended.

“Look at those tits!”
exclaimed Roussier, “Sacre bleu, what is elevating them, how can a pair so big
stand so proud?”

Gravesmere glanced in
the girl’s direction again and smirked. “You could take snuff off them, I vow.”

Roussier raised an
eyebrow. “Ten livres says that you can’t,” he replied.

 “You’ll wager on
it?” exclaimed Gravesmere, “How can I lose such a wager? The pleasure of trying
will be worth ten livres even if I fail.” He beckoned to the maid, who hurried
over, wine bottle in hand. Gravesmere waved it away.

“Set it down, wench,”
he commanded, “and hold that remarkable chest high.”

The maid looked
confused, but obeyed, and Gravesmere chuckled as he reached out and gently
rolled both of the nipples displayed before him. They tightened and the maid’s
very large, very firm breasts appeared to rise still higher above the
non-existent neckline of her gown. He reached into the deep pocket of his
elaborately gold-laced dark green coat, and extracted his snuffbox. He flipped
it open with one carefully manicured thumb, and shook back the intricate lace
ruffle that foamed over his right hand, then dipped a pinch delicately from the
box and laid it atop the maid’s breast just behind her now erect nipple. A
small crowd had gathered around them and with an air he bowed and then lowered
his face to the maid’s breast and sniffed up the snuff, leaving not a speck on
her skin. A laugh rose from the surrounding gentlemen.

Roussier shook his
head and smiled. “Alack, I owe you ten livres, and the pleasure has been all
yours, Gravesmere!”

Gravesmere grinned
broadly. “I’ll pay the lady the 10 livres you owe me for the pleasure of doing
the same on the other side.”

He cocked one eyebrow
at the maid, who seemed well pleased to be paid so much for so little, and
turned the other breast to him. Gravesmere carefully licked and then sucked the
other nipple to the laughter of his audience and then ceremoniously deposited
and sniffed off the snuff to the applause of the assembled company.

“I don’t think it
will become the mode at Versailles,” murmured the Comte de MontVarnois to his
neighbor as they watched, “but the Englishman does it with quite an air. Always
something amusing to be seen with the mad English.” They departed along with the
blushing maid, the ten livres, and the rest of the little crowd that had
gathered.

“I’ve provided
sufficient amusement to
le tout
Paris for one evening, Roussier.”
Gravesmere declared. “I’m for home.” He swept out of the room without a
backward glance for the debauched crowd.

Only slightly later,
Gravesmere exited the sedan chair that had brought him back to his Paris town
house, and entered the door, handing his tricorne hat, cape, and sword to the
butler. “You may lock up and retire for the night, Mouset,” he said, and walked
through the hall and up the stairs. He entered his dressing room and allowed
his valet to disrobe him and envelop him in a sumptuous silk dressing gown.

Entering his
bedchamber by the lingering firelight, he saw a woman in the pillow-strewn bed,
her glossy black hair tumbled across the covers, while one perfect white breast
peeked out from under the lace-trimmed sheet, the large nipple alluringly
dusky. With a devilish smile he twitched the covers further aside, then leaned
forward and kissed, and then suckled it firmly, watching with pleasure as it
instantly puckered, growing hard with anticipation.

   The woman's lids
fluttered open, revealing eyes of a remarkable violet hue. A satisfied look
crossed her face when she saw Adam gazing down at her, and she reached up with
one delicate hand to stroke his cheek.      

   "Good
evening, Your Grace," she murmured.         

   "Good evening
Louisa." Adam lowered his finger to her breast, gently circling the taut
bud.

            She gave
a tiny wriggle of anticipation, and he shed his coat and rolled onto the bed
next to her.

            "So
late, Adam?"

            "I
can't get enough of you, love," he murmured. "The only thing better
than Paris, is Paris with you."

            "How
can I repay you for such a charming compliment?" smiled Louisa, Lady
Manning. Her hand slipped out from the sheets and opened his dressing gown
until she could stroke his muscular abdomen. Adam groaned, and hastily removed
his small clothes to embrace her under the silk coverlet.

Much later, as the
early morning light dimly revealed the room, he heard a scratch at the door.
Surprised that his valet should trouble him at such an hour, he reached for his
robe and left the sleeping Louisa, to find that nervous-looking individual
entering the room.

“Your pardon, milor’
but a messenger from Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Gravesmere has just
arrived, with a letter for you.” Berget kept his eyes averted from the bed,
where Louisa’s naked body sprawled across the crumpled sheets.

“My dearest mother’s
missives arrive frequently,” grumbled Adam. “Why must they interrupt my rest
today?”

“The man was most
urgent that you should read this letter immediately,” responded the valet.

“Well hand it to me
then, man. How am I to read my mother’s dashed letter if I do not have it?” He
whipped the envelope from Berget’s hand and tore it open, scanning the missive
quickly. “You may go,” he snapped at Berget, who exited gratefully.

 “Devil take it,
Louisa, my mother demands my return; she says the bailiffs and stewards need
more supervision, and that I have waited long enough since my father’s death to
return home to take control of Gravesmere and the other properties.” Adam sat
down heavily on the bed.

Louisa roused
herself, and pinned a troubled expression to her lovely face. “How unfortunate
Adam,” she murmured, “I’m sure you’ll wish to send a reply back to Her Grace
with the messenger. I’ll await your pleasure,” she smirked slightly, “in my own
room. I hope you’ll join me soon.”

Adam gave her the
slightest smile and a lascivious glance at this sally. “I’ll see you as soon as
I write the reply, and see her man off.”

Louisa pulled on
Adam’s brocaded dressing gown, and sauntered through the door into her own
adjoining boudoir, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure that he
noted the seductive swaying of her hips. In her own room, she rushed to inspect
herself in the mirror, admiring the thick dark curls tumbling over her
shoulders, and her creamy complexion, satisfied that even after a late night,
she looked fresh, and only the tiniest of lines could be seen at the corners of
her eyes. Invisible, really, she assured herself.

Adam dressed hastily
and went down to the library, where a headache gathered behind his brows as he
composed a terse reply to his mother’s missive, indicating that he would return
in a few weeks, once he had closed the Paris house, and prepared to move his
household. Feeling somewhat better when these details had been communicated and
he had consumed a hearty breakfast and a great deal of tea, Adam consigned the
concerns of his estates to the back of his mind once again. He was far more
worried that the next thing he would have to do was inform Louisa that their
charming connection would have to terminate immediately. He grimaced; he
fancied himself in love with Louisa, and did not in the least enjoy feminine
tears.

Upstairs in her room,
the thought that Adam’s plans for a return to England might not include her had
already occurred to Louisa. However, she also knew the story of the forced
marriage, and pale, unattractive bride, and was aware that he was not looking
forward to his reunion with her. She pulled hard on the bell pull as she
pondered her options. “Quick, girl” she snapped as her maid entered. “Find my
white corset, the one embroidered with roses and trimmed with Bruges lace. And
bring me the silk stockings with butterfly clocks, and my lilac silk garters.”
When the requested items appeared, Louisa dropped the dressing gown so the maid
could lace the corset on her. “Tighter, if you please, Margot. His Grace loves
my tiny waist.” As the corset tightened, her lush breasts formed inviting
mounds above the laced trimmed half cups, and the deep pink aureoles peeked
from the froth of lace, her nipples barely restrained.

“Here are your
drawers Milady.” The maid offered a pair of dainty linen drawers trimmed with
lace at the knees.

            “No
drawers, Margot,” Louisa smiled slyly. “I want a special effect for His Grace.
Put the stockings on me and the garters and fetch the silver shoes, the ones
with the purple crystals on the heels and the diamond trimmed buckles.” The
maid raised her eyebrows, but did as she was bid. A good while later Louisa was
examining her figure in her full mirror, wearing the gleaming corset,
stockings, garters, high heels and nothing else.

“It will do very
well, Margot, very well indeed. Bring me the dark blue silk sac, the one with
the heavily flounced collar. Don’t bother with the underdress.” Once arrayed in
the dark blue overdress, which Louisa left unfastened, the maid brushed her mistress’s
dark curls, and threaded a simple blue ribbon through them.

“Away with you, I
will await His Grace’s pleasure alone.” Lady Manning surveyed herself in the
mirror with a catlike smile and adjusted the dress just slightly, so as to
achieve the most alluring effect.

Her wait was not
lengthy. Louisa had just enough time to arrange herself demurely on the damask
covered chaise in front of the bedroom window, drape her blue silk gown over
the sparkling heels of her shoes, and pick up a book to pretend to read. The
daylight, filtered through gauzy curtains, was kind to her complexion, and when
the duke entered the room he stopped short to admire the results of her
efforts.

Louisa patted the
foot of the long chaise welcomingly. “Your Grace,” she said, “Do sit down and
be at ease, this must have been a very difficult morning for you.”

Adam sat at her feet
as she had indicated and rubbed his neck. “It has been the devil of a morning,”
he said. “So many details are involved in closing this house and moving the goods
that must come with me to England, along with much of the staff.”

“Alas, the burdens
you must assume will be heavy, so much business to be dealt with it seems.”
said Lady Manning as she arranged her features into an expression of tender
sympathy. She reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek, then gently
stroked his firmly cut lips, before placing her palm on his chest and
unbuttoning his shirt to touch the skin. “When must you leave here?”

Adam groaned as she
moved forward and kissed him.

“As soon as
reasonably may be; a matter of a few weeks, perhaps,” he replied. He reached a
hand out to the flounced neckline of her blue silk wrapper, and slid it open.
Beneath it Louisa’s breasts rose from the silk half cups of her corsets,
nipples erect and protruding from their nest of lace. The silvery embroidery
made the light dance across her narrow waist, and Adam, abandoning their
conversation moved his hand still lower, opening the gown completely. His gaze
followed his hand, and when he saw her bare legs below the corset, with the
lilac garters circling her thighs and the silk stockings, he smiled. Louisa
stretched her legs, and parted them just a little, and the diamond buckles on
her shoes sparkled in the light. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he
murmured.

Louisa lowered her
eyes to hide their triumphant gleam, but said nothing. Adam drew her up from
the chaise, and pulled her stand with him before the mirror in which she had
admired her reflection only a few minutes earlier. He slipped the blue gown off
her shoulders and left it in a pool on the floor, and pulled off his jacket and
partially unbuttoned shirt.