All About the Duke (The Dukes' Club Book 4) (19 page)

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She drew in a shaking breath. “For what exactly?”

“To rule London?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You may do whatever you wish, my love. Do you wish to be the center of fashion, the center of politics, the center of art? Or would you like to rule it all?”

She laughed. “Oh Nicholas, your confidence in me is impressive. What if they all take a look at me and snicker?”

“Not possible.”

Conviction emanated from his being.

He meant it. Nicholas really believed she could rule London, but the actual question was did she want to?

For a moment, she allowed her fear to rear its head. Of course she didn’t! She’d much rather run to the country and read books and take long walks and say
if only she’d been a man, she would have taken the world by storm
.

It suddenly occurred to her that Nicholas was making it possible for her to take the world by storm just as a man might do. Perhaps she couldn’t run for parliament or find a post, but he was making it clear through the lavish amount he was investing in her that he believed, if she wished, she could make policy simply by being a powerful woman with influence.

“I’m terrified but ready,” she said at last.

“Good, because it would have been very awkward if I had to send them home.”

“Them?” she echoed.

A suspicious grin tugged at his beautiful mouth. Silently, he got up from his chair, headed to the closed, beautifully carved, panel door then opened it. “Duchesses? Do come in.”

“And me!” piped a cheerful voice.

Allegra blinked. She knew that voice. It was young but decidedly vivacious. 

My goodness! Could it be Lady Gemma?

And as if in answer to her question, said lady popped into the room like a cork form an effervescent champagne bottle.

Lady Gemma, sister of the Duke of Hunt, outstretched her arms and beamed. “My dear! How have you done it? From debutant to duchess in mere months and in such marvelously delicious circumstances.”

Allegra held out a hand and allowed it to be clasped, though she felt as if she’d been bowled over. Lady Gemma and she had been presented together and had gotten on well. Lady Gemma, though loud and seemingly silly, was one of the only intelligent and audacious young ladies that Allegra knew to be in existence, perhaps because of her scandalous mother, the dowager duchess.

Three women followed behind the pink lace gowned, dark curled young lady.

These ladies were all blond, in their twenties and laughing.

One particularly attractive lady, slightly plump, and shorter than the rest, tapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “Off you go, you’re not required. Except to order drink. You can do that, no?”

Instantly, Allegra knew that this lady had to be Lady Imogen. . . No, not Lady Imogen. Duchess Imogen. She’d recently married the Scottish fellow who had attempted to abscond with her.

Nicholas had attended the wedding. They’d decided to stick to their plan and keep their own marriage secret until a time when their own revelation would be ideal. Which was not at the wedding of another duke.

Apparently, the wedding had been an exceptionally happy one according to Nicholas.

So, the kidnapping plan hadn’t been an absolute disaster as she’d thought. Allegra repressed the desire to immediately ask what the Devil had actually gone on, but another sensation was overriding her curiosity.

Jealousy. It snaked through her quickly and left her feeling scorched. Imogen, Duchess of Blackburn, had such a casual manner with her Nicholas that Allegra could barely form words.

“Oh, I say,” Lady Gemma gushed. “Did you just snarl?”

Allegra blinked.

The other two duchesses were staring at her, amused, but with sympathy in their eyes.

One, dressed in a fabulous sapphire frock shook her head. “Men. Complete fools. Did he not assure you that he and Imogen are friends?”

“Cordelia,” Nicholas said firmly. “Though I know your general opinion of the male sex is low, I most certainly did make it known.”

Cordelia gave him a skeptical stare. “Well the blood flow of the male specimen is so frequently diverted from their brain that it is impossible to trust their ratiocination.”

“Yes. Yes, we are all ravening beasts.”

“Ravening beasts can be quite marvelous in their time and place,” the heretofore silent blond said, bouncing on her toes.

Allegra gaped. “Who the Devil are you people?”

“Yes, bad form, Nicholas,” Duchess Imogen said firmly un-phased by Allegra’s shocking query. “You have yet to introduce us.”

“You said you didn’t need me,” he pointed out.

“Trifles,” Imogen retorted. “You are the only person who knows us all.”

“That is not entirely true,” piped Lady Gemma. “I know—“

“You do not know Roth,” Duchess Cordelia intervened.

“I met him at Imogen’s wedding!” Lady Gemma protested.

Cordelia sighed. “So you did. Would you care to make introductions then?”

“Yes. Your Grace,” Lady Gemma said waving her hand at Nicholas, “would you fetch the champagne?”

For one brief moment, Nicholas looked absolutely flummoxed by being so summarily dismissed by a debutant but then he smiled in mischievous acquiescence. He winked at Allegra then bowed and left the room.

They all stood in silence, eyeing each other for several moments.

It suddenly hit Allegra that she was clutching a wine glass in her left hand. Did she hide it? She edged it around her skirts toward the marble topped table beside her chair.

She didn’t wish to appear a total drunkard to Nicholas’ acquaintances.

Duchess Cordelia shook her head and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Dear Duchess, there is never enough wine, especially in occasions such as this or your own unique circumstances. Quite frankly, I’m stunned not to find you permanently foxed given the amazing events of your last weeks.”

Allegra swallowed. “Does everyone know?”

The other duchess, the one who seemed to enjoy ravening beasts shook her head and held out her hand, her lavender skirts wafting about her leg as she strode forward. “No. Not at all. There are rumors, of course. But so far, it seems that the Duke of Roth has managed to keep your marriage silent.”

“We would have been here sooner,” Duchess Imogen said abruptly. “But. . .”

“Well, there were babies to be born!” Supplied Lady Gemma.

“Two of them,” gushed Duchess Imogen.

Allegra glanced about the women. Certainly, Lady Gemma hadn’t had a baby, but given the perfect coiffures and gowns and general bright spirits of these ladies, she couldn’t imagine who.

Pregnancy had ultimately destroyed her sister.

These women looked as if life couldn’t be any better than it was at present.

“Duchess Cordelia and Duchess Kathryn were both brought to bed on the same day, if you can imagine,” Lady Gemma said, plunking herself into a delicate, ivory striped, silk covered chair.

“In
my
house, if you can imagine,” added Duchess Imogen.

Allegra took in this information much as she had thus far taken in the whole meeting, in almost stunned silence.

At last she said. “Do sit.”

This was her drawing room after all and Lady Gemma seemed to be the only one to go ahead and lounge despite Allegra’s lack of manners.

“We have rather put you at odds end, no?” queried Duchess Cordelia.

“Well, duchess—“

“Cordelia. You must call me Cordelia,” the duchess said as she sat in a chair near Lady Gemma. “In fact, given the nature of our soon to be relationship, I think it best we divest formality now and call each other by our given names without delay. Surely you agree with the logic of this scheme?” 

Allegra nodded, still stunned. She’d never met ladies like this. All of them, so far, appeared to be bold and completely unfettered by the typical bonds of convention.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “I do beg your pardon, but are all duchess as. . . free as you all?”

The door opened and a servant entered bearing four bottles of champagne and glasses.

Imogen applauded and immediately sat. “Huzzah. I was becoming quite parched with all this acquainting.”

The champagne was quickly distributed and once Allegra saw the enthusiasm, she took a glass for herself. Well, really she had no choice due to the fact they couldn’t drink until she did.

She felt as a foreigner suddenly set down in some strange country and had no idea how to act. There was the way she was supposed to act according to her mother. Certainly, Lady Portmund would never have sat down to champagne mid-afternoon in the drawing room for no better reason than a new acquaintance. Lady Portmund would have called for the best tea for the duchesses and discussed the weather.

Allegra was fairly certain that the weather would not be in imminent conversation. To which she felt great relief and yet, she had no idea how to proceed, so she suddenly said, “How do you all know each other and how are you all so odd?”

The ladies let out a chorus of merry laughter.

Imogen raised her glass. “Well done, you, coming right out with it.”

Allegra felt her cheeks burn. It was terribly easy to be herself with Nicholas, but these were great ladies of the
ton
. In fact, she’d read about them all in the papers. The more she thought on it, the more she realized that these ladies had never been introduced to her because they were celestial, in a class all by themselves in which the
ton
gazed longingly, wishing to be noticed. . . And yet she knew they weren’t proper from the tales she’d read.

Cordelia, the Duchess of Hunt, had grown up afield, traveling all over the Far East.

The Duchess of Darkwell had been caught in a terribly scandalous position in an opera house with her own husband. . .
Before
he was her husband. The
ton
had fairly hummed with it for weeks.

Allegra’s mother had tried to keep all the papers and such salacious gossip away from her but had not succeeded.

Imogen, Duchess of Blackburn, had been a fairly famous widow who was known to be a
ton
jewel and on the fringes of respectability.

And yet, all these women were accepted, even worshipped now, by society. How was that possible?

“Who shall endeavor to answer her question?” Cordelia asked before taking a hearty drink of champagne.

“Oh, I shall! I shall, since I have known Nicholas longest and best.” Imogen settled into her chair, preparing, it seemed, for some great oratory.

There it was; that slightly unpleasant feeling whenever Imogen mentioned her friendship with Nicholas. What kind of person did that make her if she was as liberated as she believed?

“Well, for myself, I was married to an old man,” Imogen began. “A kind enough person, but it was a bit like being buried myself. . . And then one day, he died. I didn’t celebrate his death, by any means, but at the same time, I did feel a sort of immeasurable relief having shucked that rather oppressive yoke. Nicholas met me and he seemed to see that I was withering. He suggested that he could help me be myself and still live within the bounds of society. We became friends.
Just friends
. We are far too honest with each other to be anything else and, frankly, I would never sacrifice our friendship for anything else with him. I want you to know that, my dear. Nicholas merely saw someone who needed to be freed from her cage, not a woman to be treated with passion.”

Imogen patted her thick, blond curls. “Though I do enjoy a good bit of passion!”

“What woman does not?” Cordelia put in. “Our anatomy absolutely insists we were built for pleasure. It is physiologically essential to the well-being of women that. . .”

“Yes,” Imogen agreed. “Cordelia, we know your feelings about the importance of achieving—“

“Well it is important!” Cordelia cried as if a politician debating the importance of England’s presence on the continent. “How many women languish in passionless marriages? How many women never know the fulfillment of congress between the sexes? How many simply grit their teeth and do it for the good of king, country, and future dynasties. No, I cannot be silent.”

“Cordelia loves a cause,” Kathryn whispered loudly.

Cordelia snorted.

“All your causes are most worthy, of course,” Kathryn added. “This cause, of course, being personal. I was also one of those married ladies condemned to
grit their teeth and do if for the good of
. . . What was it?

“
King, country, and future dynasties
,” said Lady Gemma before sipping delicately from her glass.

“Yes.” Kathryn nodded. “That. Thank you.”

“I confess that I, too, was such a woman during my first marriage. It was unpleasant,” Imogen added.

“I refuse to allow such a thing to happen to me,” Lady Gemma said firmly.

“Of course, my dear!” Cordelia enthused. “And we, as your elders and sisters in name and sex, will do all in our power to ensure you choose a husband. . .”

“Why should I wait?” Lady Gemma said suddenly. “Allegra didn’t wait and now she’s a duchess.”

“How do you know I didn’t wait!” she burst out.

“Well,” Lady Gemma pursed her lips in contemplation then said, “Surely you married in such secrecy and haste because. . . Well. . .You know. . .“

Allegra cleared her throat. “That is not exactly why. Though. . . Um. . . I shan’t be timid now that you have all shared your experiences in the conjugal bed.”

The ladies leaned forward. Their attention was such that one might have heard a pin drop.

There was nothing for it. She needed to leap in because if she were to have any allies, these women were it. She took a deep breath and confessed, “My parents were going to have me locked away in a madhouse for running away.”

There was more collective silence then gasps.

Cordelia let out a particularly loud snort of indignation. “You? Mad? Why I can tell from moments in your presence that your mind is far better than many of the muttonheads who grace our government.”

“Well said,” agreed Imogen.

“One can understand irrational parental rage, I suppose,” added Kathryn, “but to lock one’s daughter up in a lunatic asylum? For running away? Why, I’d venture to say over half the women of my acquaintance have had vivid fantasies about suddenly disappearing from their lives. You simply had the intelligence and commitment to carry such a thought through.”