The Duchess (19 page)

The duke's thoughts were troubled. He knew he had to marry. He knew he needed a rich wife. He was committed to marrying Allegra Morgan, and yet now he was questioning the wisdom in that decision. She wasn't at all the sort of girl he felt would make a suitable Duchess of Sedgwick. The women before her had been deferential young ladies, yielding to the wishes of their lords even when those gentlemen were patently wrong.
Allegra, he already knew, was not such a lady. What kind of a duchess would she make him? Perhaps it would have been better to have not married at all. To have allowed his proud line to die with him, and with his younger brother, George.

It was George's situation that had brought about these second thoughts. He had felt so bad for his sibling, and then Allegra had come along, solving George's problems in a trice. Quinton Hunter had to admit to himself that while he was delighted for his brother, he was frankly irritated by Allegra's actions. It had been so easy for her, and damnit, life wasn't that easy. But mayhap it was for the daughter of the richest man in England. And there was the other fact that gnawed at his pride most of all. He had compromised his family's name by making a match based solely on his bride's financial resources. What kind of a man of honor did that? A desperate one, he admitted to himself.

Yet Allegra was a great beauty. She had perfect manners, and a kind heart. But she was also outspoken to the point of rudeness on certain occasions. While patient with her inferiors, she was totally lacking in that virtue where her betters were concerned. She had absolutely no tolerance for fools. And she was so deucedly independent, particularly where monies were concerned.

“I will,” she had already informed him, “oversee all the household chits without interference, Quinton. Some servants are apt to become light-fingered when tempted. Best not to tempt them.”

“The Crofts have been with this family for centuries,” he had haughtily told her.

“I am not speaking of the Crofts,” she returned. “I shall have to hire a full staff, Quinton. You cannot expect dear old Croft, and his good wife, to run such an establishment as we shall soon have. I shall, of course,
pay the servants myself out of the allowance that Papa has given me. The monies you receive are yours to do with as you please. A wife runs the household; a husband the estate. Or so Aunt Mama had instructed me. Is she wrong then?”

He had grudgingly admitted that the new Lady Morgan was most correct in her assessment of a couple's home duties. But it had irritated him to do so, though he knew not why. And Allegra had blithely gone her way then, tightening her hold upon him and his household by virtue of her wealth. He hated the ostentation of her fortune, yet neither Allegra, nor her exquisite taste could be called flamboyant, or even pretentious. Her father's wealth had saved him and his estates, he well knew, an admission which only seemed to cause him further resentment.

But his home was coming to life as he had never known it. He had to admit to himself that he liked what he was seeing. The exterior of Hunter's Lair was unchanged. It was built in the shape of an H, which had been the fashion in the year 1500 when the first Tudor king, Henry VII reigned, and the house had been reconstructed after a devastating fire. The brick was warm and mellow where it could be viewed beneath the dark green ivy. It had high stone chimneys, and a number of slate gables and roofs. Where the slates had been damaged, or gone entirely, they had been replaced. Every one of the leaded paned windows had been repainted and washed.

His beloved hall, the only part of the original house to have survived the fire of 1498, had been left basically intact as he had requested. But Allegra had put her new band of maidservants and footmen to work cleaning and polishing the stone and paneled walls, scrubbing the stone fireplaces and the window wells enclosing the
windows. He entered the hall one day to find footmen on great tall ladders washing those windows. To his amazement he realized there were stained glass designs in each of the windows that he had never even known were there. The tapestries and the silken banners in the hall were taken down and repaired, the dirt and the dust beaten out of them before they were restored to their places. When all was done, the furniture glowed. The highboard as well as the sideboards held bowls of flowers that perfumed the air of the Great Hall in a most pleasing manner.

The once narrow entry of the house with its several small and useless rooms on either side of it had become a spacious and elegant rounded foyer with staircases sweeping down on either side of the room. Six days a week the workmen swarmed about the house. There were buckets of plaster everywhere. A new dining room was being constructed, its walls to be covered in red brocade and hung with fine paintings. Chandeliers had been ordered from Waterford in Ireland, although they would not be ready until early the following year. New furniture had been commissioned from Mr. Chippendale's workshops in London. It would be in place by their wedding day.

The first floor of the house also contained the duke's library, the duchess's morning room, the duke's small office, and a drawing room. The second floor of the house was devoted to the new dining room with its pantry, a magnificent ballroom, and another small drawing room for the family's use. The tiny rabbit warren of rooms that had previously existed had been demolished. They had been of no importance. The third floor of the house held the ducal and guest bedchambers. The fourth floor was given over to the servants' quarters.

Allegra's apartments had been the first rooms finished. They were done in her favorite colors. The private salon had pale green brocaded walls above a gilded chair rail, and beneath the chair rail the wall was paneled in light wood. The Aubusson carpet had a light green background with a floral design of deeper green, gold, and rose. It lay over a wide board oak floor. The draperies were striped in pale green and gold silk brocade. The sofa was upholstered in gold brocade sprigged with a tiny cream dot. The French chairs were done in a gold and cream brocade. Upon the fireplace mantel stood a fine gilded clock which chimed not only the hour and the half hour, but the quarter hour as well. Lord Morgan had personally ordered the furniture for his daughter before they had departed the city. It was made of mahogany, and its design quite graceful and very elegant. On the delicate side tables were small china bowls of dried rose petals mixed with gillyflowers. The candelabra and candlesticks were gold gilt over sterling silver. The lamps were crystal.

The bedchamber was decorated in rose and cream. The bedstead, which was quite old, was of golden oak, and hung with rose silk brocade draperies that could be drawn all about the bed for privacy. Allegra had never seen such a large bed, but it fit comfortably into the chamber. It came from the previous century, but Allegra liked it, and would not allow it to be replaced. There was a mahogany armoire, a dressing table with its own carved mirror, a matching chest of drawers, and a small table by the bed, along with a rose and cream-colored tapestried chair by the fireplace. On the wide board oak floors was another Aubusson carpet of deep rose decorated with a border of cream and lighter pink roses with deep green leaves. The windows were hung with cream and rose sprigged silk brocade draperies. There was
also a Chippendale chest with a fine gilt mirror hung over it on the wall that led to the dressing room. On the other side of the dressing room was a pretty windowed chamber for Honor that was comfortably furnished with a bedstead, a drawered coffer, a night table, and a chair. The duke's apartments, now under construction, were next to Allegra's with a connecting door between their bedchambers.

No, he could not complain, even to himself, about the improvements that were being made to the house, Quinton Hunter thought. His bride-to-be's never-ending fortune was a godsend in that respect. The duke had always loved his home, but it was fast becoming the showplace he had always known it could be. That, and his deep sense of honor were what kept him from crying off his match to Miss Allegra Morgan. It was becoming quite obvious to him that once he had sired a proper number of children with her that they would, like so many couples of their day, have to lead separate lives.

And yet his brother was happy. So happy that the duke felt almost guilty in his exasperation. The negotiations were now under way for the purchase of George's farm, some five hundred acres nearby. They would be his by month's end. Squire Franklyn, learning of the quite improved circumstances of his daughter's suitor, was ready to give his blessing to a match between their families. The talk was even being bandied about regarding a late August wedding, which would, of course, be a simple country affair.

The squire, a practical man, had always liked young Lord Hunter, but a man without lands wasn't a fit son-in-law. Now, however, all that had changed. He had even learned that George had a small income in the bargain. His daughter would be Lady Hunter with her own
house and an income. Melinda, he proudly told the duke, would have a dowry of one hundred fifty pounds of gold, her own plates, linens, and clothing.

Quinton Hunter smiled in retrospect. Life for his little brother would be happy and uncomplicated. He already envisioned a house full of nieces and nephews. He, himself, faced a different future with a strong-willed girl who would grow into a stronger-willed woman with the birth of each of her children, and the power such births would bring her. Allegra would not follow in her mother's footsteps. Once she became his wife she would remain loyal and devoted to their family for the rest of her life. She had been carefully raised to understand exactly what her duty was, and she would do it.

The duke sighed. Had his antecedents been right when they married for love? Love had brought his family to the abyss of indigence and beggary, but they had been happy in their impoverishment.
Hadn't they?
He sighed again, running his big hand through his dark hair. He had never wanted to be rich, just comfortable. He would have been content to marry a plain girl with a dowry sufficient to restore his home and keep them comfy. Such girls, however, had been looking for richer men. Once his family's name had meant something. He would have been sought after, indeed fought over. No more, he thought sadly. Today it was the rich who prospered even more.

Quinton Hunter shook himself. What the hell was he feeling sorry for, he asked silently? His bride-to-be was a beautiful young girl. Perhaps if he showed her a little more kindness he could cajole her into a more reasonable frame of mind. She was just spoiled. Her father had indulged her. She was barely grown. She would have her
outrageous allowance to play with each year, and be as happy as she had obviously always been. Allegra was like a beautiful young mare. She needed to be gentled, and she needed firmness. She was a sensible creature, and in time would come to understand there could be but one rule in their house.
His.

The days flew by. George's farm was purchased. It had a fine stone house with a good slate roof, a sturdy barn, and a granary. There was an apple orchard, and young Lord Hunter intended turning one of his fallow fields into a second orchard, this one for pears. His fields were currently let to his neighbors, but next year he would grow his own grain. His father-in-law-to-be gifted him with a small flock of black-faced Shropshire sheep. Allegra wrote to her father, and shortly afterward a herd of twelve cows and a bull were driven into one of George's fields.

The betrothal between Miss Melinda Franklyn and Lord George Hunter was announced. The wedding would be celebrated on the last day of August.

Together Allegra and Quinton attended the wedding of the Earl of Aston to Lady Eunice Tarleton on July twentieth. It was held at Astondale, the earl's home village, an hour's carriage ride from Hunter's Lair. It was there that Allegra saw Sirena for the first time since her cousin had gone off on her wedding trip. Sirena was obviously blooming, and very happy.

“Mama says you ran away to Hunter's Lair,” Sirena laughed as she hugged her cousin warmly. “You really are a naughty puss, coz.”

“I ran away from all their billing and cooing,” Allegra told her cousin bluntly. “Really, Sirena, it was quite embarrassing, I assure you. I decided I might as well come sooner to Hunter's Lair, and a good thing, too. The architect
needed me. There was far more work to the restoration than anyone had anticipated.”

“When may we come and see it?” Sirena begged prettily.

“Ohh, we are not yet ready to receive guests,” Allegra said. “The duke's apartment has only just been finished. Ohh, Sirena, you should see my rooms. All my favorite colors, and so beautiful. We will be fortunate to have everything done by the wedding, but I have told Mr. Gardner that it absolutely must be finished in time for my ball on October thirty-first.”

“But your wedding is October fifth,” Sirena said. “Aren't you taking a wedding trip, Allegra?”

“I have no idea,” came the answer, “but if we are it must be a brief one for my ball is most firmly set for the night of the thirty-first of October. It will be my first formal entertainment as the Duchess of Sedgwick, and I want it to be perfect.”

“Don't you and the duke
ever
speak together?” Sirena asked.

“When we have something to say to one another.”

Sirena shook her head. “If you must marry Quinton Hunter, Allegra, couldn't you at least try to love him a little?” she said.

“Sirena, dearest, we have been over this before,” Allegra reminded her cousin. “Quinton and I have a very sensible arrangement. We are both content with it, I assure you.”

The cousins met again several weeks later at Lord Walworth's wedding to Caroline Bellingham. Sirena looked rather peaked this time.

“Breeding,”
Lady Bellingham said archly. “I see it in her eyes.”

“You aren't!”
Allegra squealed excitedly.

“I am,” Sirena said, “but I shall still be able to be your attendant, Allegra. I promised you, and I will keep my word.”

“Does Aunt Mama know yet?” Allegra wondered.