The Duchess (16 page)

The ceremony concluded. To Allegra's surprise her father took his new wife into his arms, kissing her soundly. The new Lady Morgan blushed most becomingly as her guests clapped their approval. Allegra quickly stepped up to the newlyweds, and kissed her stepmother first and then her father.

“You know I wish you both happy,” she said sincerely.

“Ohh, my dear,” Olympia Morgan said, “I have always thought of you as my own child, and now you are!” She kissed Allegra back.

They repaired to the dining room where the chef had set out a lovely wedding breakfast. This morning he offered them pieces of chicken in a wine and cream sauce that he wrapped in very thin rounds of cooked dough he
called crepes. There were shirred eggs, a country ham, rashers of bacon, a platter with thin slices of trout sprinkled lavishly with fresh dill and slices of lemon. There were new baby lettuces, raw, which Allegra found most tasty, as well as breads warm from the ovens. When all of this had been cleared away, strawberries with clotted cream brought up from Devon were served along with a small wedding cake iced in sugar and butter and filled with dried fruits. Only champagne was served during the entire breakfast.

After the meal with its toasts to Lord and Lady Morgan, the guests departed—Sirena and Ocky upon their wedding trip, Lord and Lady Bellingham to their country house in Oxford. The Marquess and Marchioness of Rowley left for their estate. Now it was their turn. Allegra chose not to ride in the coach with her father and stepmother.

“They are so embarrassing, very like Sirena and Ocky,” she murmured to the duke. “I feel very much the third wheel.”

“You are,” he told her. “Your father and his wife are in love, as are Sirena and Ocky.”

“Love!”
Allegra scoffed. “I cannot believe such a thing of Papa. Surely my mama cured him of that foolish emotion.”

“I think not,” Quinton Hunter said.

“Then it is fortunate I am coming to Hunter's Lair shortly,” Allegra said. “I do not believe I could bear a summer of their billing and cooing. Neither of them is in the first flush of youth, sir.”

He laughed. “Love, I have been told, makes no exceptions for age or infirmity, my dear,” the duke answered her. “Your father and his new wife have the best of love, for they were friends first. And then, too, your stepmother is a woman of character. She would never have
even considered the path your mama took.
Nor would you,”
he concluded.

“How can you be certain?” she asked him. She had worried silently to herself that something like that might happen to her one day.

“Because, Allegra, you are also a woman of character,” the duke told her. “I should not take you for my wife, fortune or no, did I believe otherwise. My family has never in its history had any scandal attached to their name. Nor would I bring shame upon them. Your wealth was the primary factor in my decision to make you my wife; but your reputation was equally important to me. Despite your friendship with young Tanner, I know you to be a virgin of good repute.”

They had just left the city behind. Her gelding shied as a cart passed too close, but Allegra held him firm even as she felt her cheeks grow warm. He had made her feel almost like an item to be inspected and bought, which was after all what the duke had done. A tiny curl of resentment brushed at her, but she pushed it away. She had made the perfect alliance, and had departed London in triumph. Hers was the match of the season. The match of the decade, or so Lady Bellingham had crowed to her.

“You are uncomfortable with my blunt speech,” he said, noting her expression.

“A bit,” she admitted. “Frankness does not disturb me, Quinton, but I have never before found myself the subject of such talk.”

He was amused, but held his peace. She was candid, but at the same time she was quite prudish. He had thought he wouldn't care, but now he realized a girl as young and as innocent as Allegra was going to find the conjugal act quite a surprise, possibly even repellent if she were not properly prepared. While their children
might not come from a grand passion, he did want Allegra to at least enjoy the sweet lust between a man and his wife. Neither of them could be so detached or indifferent to it if their marriage was to be a success. But how could he explain such things to her? He suddenly saw the wisdom in waiting several months before they married, and his future father-in-law's cunning in sending Allegra to Hunter's Lair to
oversee
its renovations. Lord Morgan obviously hoped that as they came to know each other a loving sentiment might grow between them, thus rendering their marital relations happy ones. It was the best any good father could hope for, the duke realized.

They stopped at midday beside a stream that paralleled the road. A picnic lunch packed by the London staff was now spread upon the grass by the servants, who traveled in their own coach. There was a roasted chicken, ham, bread, cheese, wine, and a large bunch of fat green grapes. They ate, and then the ladies sought privacy to relieve themselves while the gentlemen went in another direction. When they met again by the traveling coach the new Lady Morgan invited Allegra to join them, but the young girl declined.

“Thank you, Aunt Mama, but I dislike coach travel, and avoid it when I can. The day is fair and Quinton most delightful company.”

They moved on again.

“You have not told me before that I am delightful company,” the duke teased Allegra. “It came as quite a surprise to hear you say it.”

“I will not ride in that vehicle with them,”
Allegra said. “Do you see the looks they gave one another all during our picnic? It was so embarrassing, and is worse now than it was this morning at the house.”

He laughed. “Why does it disturb you that your father and your stepmother love each other?”

“It does not
disturb
me,” Allegra denied.

“It does,” he countered. “And you know why, my dear. You suddenly see your papa as a man with desires and feelings that have nothing to do with you. He is in love again, and is eager to bed his wife.”

She blushed scarlet. “How can you say such a thing?” she demanded of him. “They are so old! Why, Sirena told me her mother is forty-one, and I know my papa is well past fifty.”

He laughed again. “Both are past the age of indiscretion, my dear, and ready for some fun. There is no crime in it.”

“You speak quite knowledgeably,” she accused.

“And you prate from your innocence, Allegra,” he told her. “Those marital relations between your father and his wife, between any lawfully wed couple, should be pleasant, enjoyable ones even if the marriage has been arranged for other reasons. Passion can be shared, and pleasurable between friends.”

“You are no longer speaking about Papa and Aunt Mama, are you, Quinton?” Allegra said softly.

“No, I am not,” he admitted. “In a few months' time you and I will share those relations, Allegra. I want such passion between us to be happy for you. I do not want you resenting the children that you will bear me. Can you understand that?”

“You have not kissed me since the night of my ball,” she replied. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, and wondered if she looked like a boiled beef at this point.

“Did you like being kissed?” he asked.

“You didn't do it enough for me to form an opinion,” she said.

“I thought you quite opinionated on the subject the night of your ball,” he reminded her. “As I recall you wanted to know if I was considered expert in such matters, and asked for references.”

“I most certainly did not ask for testimonials on the subject,” she huffed. “I just asked if you were considered good at kissing. It was a perfectly reasonable question considering I had never before been kissed. I don't understand why you are so put out about it.”

“You mean not even the saintly Rupert Tanner kissed you, Allegra? I find that hard to believe,” he said.

“Why would Rupert want to kiss me? We are friends, and why do you call him
saintly?”
she countered.

“Because I understand he is taking holy orders, and will have a living from his father's village church when the old vicar there retires,” came the reply.

“How do you know that?” she demanded.

“Because he told me. Remember he was at Pickford House with us during the season. He implied that you had an informal understanding,” the duke said, and there was just the hint of anger in his voice.

“What?”
The surprise in Allegra's voice was palpable. “How dare Rupert say such a thing! It most certainly is not true.”

“Then he obviously said it in an attempt to drive me off,” the duke observed, his good humor restored. “And he must be a saint to have never kissed you, my dear.”

Allegra kicked her horse into a canter and rode away from him. She was furious. Yes, she said she wanted to marry Rupert before she had come to London, but only in order to escape a season. Her father had put a firm stop to any such idea. There had been nothing between them at all but a shared childhood. “I shall never speak to Rupert again,” she muttered to herself. “How dare
he?” He dare, she realized, because they were old friends, and he thought she needed to be saved. How presumptuous of him, especially, as they had grown up together. If anyone should know her it should be Rupert.

The duke let Allegra go. It was obvious she needed to work off her temper.
She had a temper.
That was a discovery. She was a more interesting girl than he had anticipated.

They stopped that night at an excellent inn. Charles Trent had taken an entire wing of the hostelry for his master's party. He was a day ahead of them. They ate their dinner in a private dining room, although Allegra and the duke seemed to be the only ones with an appetite. And when the meal had been cleared away, her father and stepmother were suddenly filled with yawns and deep sighs.

“How can you be so sleepy after riding in a coach all day?” Allegra demanded of them. “Papa, do you not want to play a game of chess? Now that we are to get back to our regular schedule you cannot forget our nightly chess games!” She smiled at him. “Shall I have the board and pieces brought, Papa?”

“I believe, my child, that the excitement of the season has finally caught up with me, and all this good country air is making me sleepy. I think that your stepmother and I shall retire. We will play chess another night, I promise you.” He arose, and held out his hand to his bride.

“Come and kiss me goodnight, Allegra,” Lady Morgan said. “Did you enjoy your ride today, dearest?”

“Very much,” the young girl replied. She dutifully kissed her father and her stepmother. “Good night.”

When they had gone she said to the duke, “They want to make love, don't they?”

“Yes,” he said, his silvery gray eyes serious.

“I cannot believe anyone that age is still interested in such things, Quinton,” Allegra told him.

“Why not? I am sure he had a mistress tucked discreetly away somewhere near Morgan Court.”

Allegra was silent, and then she said, “Do you have a mistress tucked away somewhere, Quinton?”

He chuckled. “My dear, do I hear a tiny bit of jealousy in your tone? No, I could not afford a mistress, but so there is no misunderstanding between us, I have also not been celibate either.”

“You have visited whores?” She wasn't really shocked, just curious about that part of his life.

“I have not been able to afford whores either.” He chuckled again. He brushed an errant lock of dark hair from his forehead. “Allegra, there are always women willing to give themselves for the pure joy of it. I am no satyr, but when I felt the need for passion, there was always someone to satisfy my urges. Does that answer your questions?”

“No,” she said, and she arose from the table to come and stand before him. “I have one last question to ask of you, Quinton.”

“And that is, my dear?” She was so serious, and so amusing.

“When are you going to kiss me again?” Allegra queried him.

“Why right now, my dear,” he answered her, pulling her into his lap. Taking her chin between his thumb and his forefinger his lips met hers in a rather fierce kiss.

She gasped, surprised. His finger caressed her jawline for a brief moment, and then he kissed her again; this time slowly, slowly until she felt as if her bones were melting away. His eyes looked into hers. Allegra felt a wave of heat wash over her and her heart hammered wildly.

“Do you think I kiss well enough for you, my dear?” he asked her wickedly. Actually he had quite enjoyed it himself.

“Quite well enough,” she admitted to him. “I will swear that my toes curled, sir.”

“You are flattering me, Allegra, and I will quite confess to liking it,” he told her. He also liked having her in his lap. She was a delightful armful.

“Kiss me again,” she said softly to him, and he complied.

Her pink lips were like two rose petals, soft and yielding. Her breath was just slightly perfumed. He felt her relax against him. He found the softness of her breasts stimulating, and realized with some shock that his innocent wife-to-be was arousing him. Yet he could not stop kissing her, and Allegra in her budding zeal kissed him back with equal enthusiasm. He felt his manhood hardening within his breeches. Quickly he tipped her from his lap lest she sense it. Now was hardly the time for such an introduction.

She looked startled to find herself on her feet. Her sloe eyes and bruised mouth sent the blood pounding in his ears. “Why did you stop?” she demanded of him.

“Kissing,” he said, wondering if his voice sounded as hollow to her as it did to him, “leads to other acts of greater intimacy, Allegra. I do not believe, and I must be the judge in such matters, that you are at all ready to meet and taste such delights. Perhaps it is best you retire now, my dear. We have several long days ahead of us.” Taking her gently by the shoulders he kissed her upon her forehead. “Good night.”

He could see she was slightly bemused as she walked from the little chamber where they had had their meal. He was somewhat confused himself. Going to the sideboard he poured himself a dollop of whiskey, and went
to sit down by the fire. What the hell was the matter with him? He had felt lust for Allegra, yes, but there had been something more. They were to marry. He could have seduced her, and what harm would there have been in it? She belonged to him now. Only a few churchly words stood between the legalities of their licit union and the facts. She was innocent, but her girlish kisses told him there was passion in her soul. Treated with tenderness, brought slowly along, she would in time, he suspected, prove to be enjoyable bedsport.