The Decadent Duke (24 page)

Georgina's joyous laughter rippled along the street. She bent and made another snowball, then flung it with all her strength at her brother.

George ducked, and the cold missile hit a young boy walking farther along the street. The lad shouted with sudden glee. Then he made his own snowball and threw it at the young lady who was having such great fun. Suddenly, he recognized her and ran toward her. “Georgy! I'm so glad to see you!”

“Johnny, is that you? What are doing at this time of morning?”

“I spent the night with Father. He's taking me back to school.”

“Ah, I see.” Georgina saw that indeed Johnny's father had been walking with his son. Her heart suddenly went out to the boy. “Do you like school, Johnny?”

“I like the classes and lessons, and love the books, but ...” He hesitated, “I don't like the nights.”

“That is perfectly understandable.”

“I love the snow—I hope it stays around for Christmas.” His eager face suddenly changed, as if he remembered Christmas would be a sad time.

A lump came into her throat. “I'm glad I ran into you.”

“It was lovely to see you, Geor ... I mean, Lady Georgina.”

She approached her brother, who'd stopped to speak with Russell. She heard George say, “Please accept my sympathy for your loss.”

“Thank you, Huntly,” Russell said briefly.

His dark eyes swept over Georgina for only a moment, but she knew he saw the evening gown beneath the velvet cloak—knew she had been up all night enjoying herself. Then Russell and Johnny walked on. She was annoyed that his slightest glance could quicken her heartbeat and make her pulses race when it was obvious that he thoroughly disapproved of her.

“Poor devil,” George said.

“Don't pity him, for God's sake. That's the last thing he'd want anyone to do.”

“He never seems to smile.”

“He is the sort of man who masks his amusement,” she assured her brother.

Georgina was beginning to feel the cold, so she decided to walk faster. When the pair arrived at their house in Pall Mall, George watched her climb the front steps.

“Aren't you ready for bed?” she asked, surprised.

He gave her an enigmatic smile. “I am—just not the bed at 91 Pall Mall.”

 
When John Russell and his son reached the gates of Westminster School, Johnny said in a slightly defiant tone, “I like Lady Georgina. She is always so ...” He couldn't find the right word to describe her.

“Alive?” his father suggested.

“I . . . I didn't mean any disrespect to Mother,” he murmured.

“I know you didn't, Johnny. This snow reminds me that Christmas looms on the horizon. Your uncle Francis always celebrates the Yule at Woburn. Your brothers have told me that is where they would like to spend their school holiday. Does Woburn sound good to you?”

“Will you be there?”

“I'll be there until just before Christmas, but then I plan to go home to Tavistock. Over the years it has become a tradition for me to spend the Yule with my constituents. They are hard-working people who look forward to celebrating Christmas.”

“Could I ... that is, would you consider ...” His voice trailed off, as if his hopes would be dashed.

“Would I consider taking you with me?” John finished his son's sentence. “If you think you would be happier in Tavistock than with your brothers at Woburn, of course I will take you.”

“I'm happiest wherever you are, Father.”

John, deeply touched, put his arm about his son and hugged him.

 
The social scene in the month of November had been extremely active, but once December arrived it turned into a veritable whirlwind of invitations to parties and balls.

Georgina did her best to be on hand when the post arrived so she could sort through the invitations before her mother got to see them. That way she could discard the ones she suspected would be dead boring.

Today, however, she opened one that intrigued her. It was addressed solely to Lady Georgina Gordon, and was an invitation to attend an Evening of Fashion. At the bottom in small print it said:
Masks Optional
. She did not know who had invited her, but strangely the address was fairly close by on Pall Mall.

She tucked the pink card into her reticule, and later that morning took a stroll past the tall stone house. She had no idea who resided there, but her curiosity was piqued. On the spot, she decided that she would attend.

The Duchess of Gordon received an invitation to a musical evening being given by Lady Lavinia Spencer for the same evening, which she accepted on behalf of herself and her youngest daughter.

At the last minute, Georgina complained of a headache and begged off.

“Since Lavinia and her sister-in-law, the Duchess of Devonshire, are not on speaking terms, the Duke of Bedford isn't likely to attend. I don't suppose it will hurt if you miss the party. Perhaps you should have an early night and get some beauty sleep.”

After her mother left, Georgina went up to her bedchamber, opened her wardrobe, and with a critical eye, tried to decide what to wear to an Evening of Fashion.

“I wish Louisa were still at home. She'd join me in a heartbeat. We had such jolly times together.” Georgina hadn't seen her sister often since her wedding, as she and her young husband lived at Brome Hall in Suffolk. Louisa had attended Charlotte's ball, but she had focused her attention on Charles the entire evening, much to Georgina's disgust.

“I suppose I ought to take Helen with me, but she would blab to Mother that I'd accepted an invitation and gone out after complaining of a headache.”

Georgina smiled her secret smile.
Masks Optional
.

She donned her most sophisticated evening gown, which was the one in the vivid shade of peacock. Then, to hide her identity, she put on a wig as well as the black sequined mask that belonged to a cat costume she'd worn to a children's party years ago.

Wearing her velvet cloak, Georgina waited at the top of the stairs until the foyer was empty of servants; then she quickly descended and hurried through the front door. Feeling free as a bird, she felt like singing as she made her way along Pall Mall.

She crushed her apprehension about the unknown by dashing up the steps, and making liberal use of the door knocker. The majordomo who appeared was wearing gold and purple livery, as if he presided over a royal residence. Georgina presented her pink invitation, and in return she received a formal bow.

“This way, my lady.”

She followed the footman up a spiral gilt staircase to a ballroom that was lit with crystal chandeliers. The walls were mirrored from floor to ceiling, giving it an aura of palatial opulence. The room was half full of people, with more men than women, and she noted that most of the ladies wore masks. She was surprised to see that the servants, who were carrying glasses of champagne on silver trays, were not footmen, but what could more aptly be described as
footwomen
.

The orchestra was playing a baroque piece by Handel, and Georgina saw that no one was dancing. She recognized three of the gentlemen immediately. Francis Russell was laughing with Prince Frederick and Prince Edward. She remembered that she was wearing a mask and would be incognito until she spoke with them and they recognized her voice.
What fun!

The hostess came forward to greet her. Georgina knew she had never seen the woman before in her life. “My dear, welcome to an Evening of Fashion. The show will get underway shortly. There is something to tempt and titillate every taste. I urge you to be bold and bid on whatever strikes your fancy.”

She's urging me to bid . . . That must mean the fashions will be for sale. How delightful.
Georgina watched the hostess engage an older woman in conversation, and she recognized the female immediately. The gestures of Lizzie Melbourne were unmistakable. Georgina did not know the man with her, though she knew it was not Lord Melbourne.

Rather than stand alone, she decided to join a trio of masked ladies who were whispering and laughing behind their fans. They fell quiet as their hostess went to the center of the ballroom and held up her hands. “I thank you all for coming tonight. Don't forget that Christmas is coming and presents will be expected. I urge the gentlemen to be generous and loosen their purse strings. The fashions you will see tonight are unique. They have been imported from Paris at great expense to the establishment.”

Everyone laughed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present the
Demoiselles de Maison Rouge
!”

The applause was deafening, but as the first female high-stepped across the floor, the clapping turned to whistles of appreciation.

Georgina stared in disbelief. The girl was clad in a flowing red gown that was completely transparent. As she walked, the creamy flesh of her breasts and thighs was clearly visible. The tendrils on her mons showed dark red through the sheer silk.

Before Georgina could regain her composure, another girl undulated across the ballroom floor. This one was wearing a frilly white corset, a pair of lace stockings, and sequined garters. The space between her hips and thighs was completely nude. As she crossed the room, her bare buttocks bounced. She carried a red rose and tossed it toward the whistling men.

When Francis Russell caught it and immediately bid, “Twenty guineas,” Georgina was shocked. The bidding was fast and furious, and it began to dawn on her that the men were buying more than the fashions.

A girl garbed in a black busk decorated with pink bows touched her breasts with the tiny fan she carried. When she drew it suggestively across her mons, two of the women present began to bid, and the laughter turned raucous.

Georgina's shock turned to anger.
Who the devil sent me the invitation?
She gazed across at Prince Frederick, who was bidding an obscene amount of money for a statuesque blonde wearing silver tassels.
Charlotte's husband, Charles, once dueled with Frederick. Could this be his way of getting even with our family?
She soon dismissed the suspicion. It had happened years ago, and the prince didn't seem the type to carry a grudge.

She wondered if the hostess was amusing herself by inviting a debutante who lived on the same street as her establishment.
What would she gain by offering such an insult to a Gordon daughter?

Georgina's glance traveled slowly around the ballroom, and when it came to rest on the Duke of Bedford, she knew exactly who had sent her the outrageous invitation. She was not amused.

The more she thought about it, the more furious she became. She was angry with herself as well as Francis Russell.
I should not have come. I must get out of here.

She glanced toward the door and was stunned to see her sister Susan's husband walk in. The Duke of Manchester was not alone. The woman on his arm was the one she had seen in his carriage that day outside the House of Lords.

Outraged, she hurried across the room until she reached her brother-in-law. She removed the woman's hand from his arm. “William, you must escort me home immediately.”

“Christ Almighty, Georgina! What the hell are you doing in a brothel?” he demanded.

“I am here by accident. Obviously, you are here by intent. Nevertheless, I need your protection.v

“Of course, my dear.v He offered her his arm.

She glanced back across the room, her wicked juices bubbling. “Just one moment. I will be back directly.”

With head high she marched across the ballroom until she stood before the Duke of Bedford and Prince Edward. She raised her hand and slapped Francis Russell's face. “Pig!”

She knew he recognized her green eyes glittering through her mask. The prince, who did not recognize her, took immediate offense for the assault on his friend and grabbed her arm. She shook him off and slapped his face also. “Pig's friend!”

The crowd about them parted like the Red Sea as Georgina swept across the floor, took the Duke of Manchester's arm, and departed.

As they walked up Pall Mall, Georgina said, “I warrant discretion is the better part of valor. If you won't divulge where I was tonight, I won't reveal where you were, William.”

The Duke of Manchester saw her to her door and kissed her hand.

 
The Duke of Bedford felt both elation and desolation.
The little vixen came!
The moment Georgina slapped his face, it ignited a raging lust that ran through his veins like wildfire and spread to his loins with the inevitable result. But something else had happened when he looked into her glittering green eyes. His heart had skipped a beat as he realized the lady was utterly desirable. He experienced a twinge of despair that she might refuse to speak to him again.

“Who the devil was that bold bitch?” Prince Edward demanded, rubbing his cheek.

“Don't you know?” Francis asked, surprised.

“She just left with Manchester. Is she one of his whores?”

“I haven't the faintest idea who she was,” Francis lied as an urge to protect Lady Georgina suddenly came over him. “She obviously has a grudge against you, though,” he added with glee.

“She slapped you first.”

“That's because I'm your friend. What female have you offended recently?”

“More than I can count on one hand,” the prince admitted with braggadocio.

Francis Russell perused the females parading in dishabille and suddenly lost his appetite for the strumpet in the frilly white corset.
Now, if Georgina were wearing those white lace stockings and sequined garters, it would be another matter entirely.