The Duchess (34 page)

“You are wise, my gels, for the gambling is entirely out of hand thanks to Prinny and his friends. Fortunes are made and lost in a single night. Many lives have been ruined. Prinny and his friends may mock the king, but he is a good man who has set a good Christian example for us all. What a pity his son cannot follow it, especially now that he is a father himself. I would not come to London at all nowadays but that Bellingham must attend Parliament. How he loves his politics, and, of course, Mr. Pitt is such a fine man.”

“You would not prefer to remain in the country, and let my uncle come up alone?” Caroline asked mischievously.

“Gracious, child,” her aunt exclaimed. “One should never allow a husband to come up to London alone. Much too much temptation for a gentleman, even the best of them. There are women, not the kind we would associate with, I assure you, just looking for unaccompanied gentlemen like my poor gullible Freddie, to take advantage of, and fleece. No! No! As long as Frederick Bellingham wants to come up to Parliament, I shall be at his side, I can assure you.” She helped herself to another bit of salmon.

“Poor uncle,”
Caroline murmured softly to her friends who struggled not to giggle. They all knew that old Lord Bellingham, a rather charming gentleman, was under the firm control of his forceful wife whom he simply adored.

The cards had been sent out for the Duchess of Sedgwick's
at home,
and the responses were pouring in each day. No one was going to miss the opportunity to see how the duke and his bride were getting on after three months of marriage. They all thought it rather odd that their society wedding planned for St. George's
in Hanover Square had been changed to the family chapel, or wherever it had been, at Hunter's Lair. Why on earth had they done
that?
Was the duchess enceinte? But then she couldn't be if they were in London. It was a most aggravating mystery.

Prinny, of course, had arrived at Hunter's Lair with young Mr. Brummell. Usually Brummell had something caustic to say about everyone, but he had nothing but praise for the duchess's exquisite taste, the wonderful house, and the obviously contented couple. It was all just too annoying, but now they should see the truth of it. After all, blue-blooded Sedgwick had only wed the Morgan chit for her fortune. They all knew it, and he even admitted to it last season. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more, whatever Brummell saw.

Allegra was fascinated by the London she now saw. Last spring her whole time had been spent on seeking and finding a husband. Her movements were carefully monitored and watched. She could only come or go in a prescribed manner. Now, however, she and her two friends were able to go about town in one another's company while their husbands visited the Parliament and their clubs. Each evening they all met for dinner, or some form of entertainment. They played Whist together; sang accompanying each other on the piano; enacted out charades, the ladies against the gentlemen.

Allegra, Caroline, and Eunice, in the company of Lady Bellingham, visited Westminster Abbey one morning. It was a great Gothic structure of French design with wonderful stained glass windows and gray stone buttresses. The interior was made up of chapels, naves, tombs, and monuments. King William the Norman had been crowned here. The Coronation Chair which had been made for King Edward I was brought into the abbey in the year 1272. It had been used at all the coronations
that had followed. The tombs were legion, and very impressive. There was the one belonging to St. Edward the Confessor, as well as Edward III and young Edward VI. There was the tomb of Henry III and the first Tudor king, Henry VII. Richard II had his tomb in the abbey, as did Mary, Queen of Scots, her son, James I, and his grandson, Charles II. The second Hanover king, George II, was buried in the enormous church. And there were famous women as well: Eleanor of Castile, Anne of Cleves, Queen Mary II, and her sister, Queen Anne.

The marble and the stonework were extremely impressive. The colorful stained glass windows almost brought tears to Allegra's eyes. It was early afternoon before they realized it, and left reluctantly, having gained a new sense of their country's history and its importance in the world in which they lived.

On another day, bundled up in their furs, they visited the Tower of London with its colorful Beefeater Guards in their red, black, and gold uniforms. The royal menagerie was located here, but it was not particularly impressive right now, consisting only of a moth-eaten ancient tiger, a toothless grizzly bear, an Indian elephant, and several peacocks. Allegra was more interested in the Tower Green where two of Henry VIII's wives had been beheaded.

“What a horrid fate!” Caroline said.

“I heard they betrayed the king,” Eunice replied. “They deserved it if that was the case.”

“In Anne Boleyn's case the charges were probably trumped up as the king had an eye out for his next wife, Queen Jane, who mothered his son. Poor Anne miscarried two sons and only produced her daughter, Elizabeth, who, of course, went on to become England's greatest queen.”

“What about the other wife?” Eunice asked.

“Catherine Howard was Anne Boleyn's cousin. She wasn't very smart, and was, so I have read, a trollop who was no better than she ought to be. The king adored her, which made her betrayal of him with a lover all the worse to stomach. In fact, he didn't.”

“You are quite learned,” Caroline said. “How is it you are so well educated when most of us are not?”

“I studied with my brother and his tutor,” Allegra explained. “Then when James Lucian went off to school, Papa allowed the tutor to remain to teach me even more.”

“Wasn't it rather dull?” Eunice inquired.

“Not at all,” Allegra assured her. “I liked it. A woman should really know more than how to paint pretty watercolors and play the piano while she sings. If I had not married Quinton I should have been quite capable of carrying on my own life without a husband.”

“You are very brave,” Caroline said. “Far braver than I am, I will admit it honestly. I am so glad that Dree and I suit. I should not like to be without a husband.”

“Nor I,” Eunice noted. “I adore my Marcus, and it is quite a great deal of fun to be the Countess of Aston. Don't you like being the Duchess of Sedgwick, Allegra?”

“I like it quite well,” Allegra said, “but if Quinton and I had not made a match of it, I should not weep and wail.” A gust of icy wind off the river blew her fur-trimmed hood back, and Allegra shivered. “Let us go home, and have tea,” she suggested. “We are going to the theatre tonight.”

“I wish it were warm enough to visit Vauxhall,” Caroline said as they hurried from the Tower of London to their waiting coach.

“Probably next month before we go,” Eunice remarked.

“Where did the gentlemen go today?” Caroline asked.

“The cockfights,” Eunice remarked. “Disgusting!”

The other two nodded their heads in agreement.

“Last week Dree asked me if I wanted to go to Newgate with him to see a hanging,” Caroline said, shuddering. “He brought me back a printed leaflet, a biography of the criminal hanged. There was a line drawing of the fellow. He was very young, but he was a highwayman.”

“Quinton says he would like me to come to Tatter-sall's when he purchases the new mares,” Allegra told them.

“Ohh, that would be fun,” Caroline replied. “May we come, too? I could use a new mare, and my birthday is coming up,” she finished with a wicked smile.

“You speak to Adrian then,” Allegra said, “and let him ask Quinton. It will be a question of two men buying horses then, and not an entertainment for us. Quinton is very serious about these purchases, and I can certainly understand his point. His stud is a magnificent beast, and has already sired several fine racers on less than distinguished stock. With really fine mares what will he do? We shall have the most sought after racers in all of England,” Allegra said proudly, and her friends smiled.

It had begun to rain—an icy rain—when Allegra arrived home. Her two friends had decided to return to Pickford House rather than stop for tea. The big house was quiet. Mr. Trent was nowhere in evidence. He really was the epitome of discretion. Her father, of course, had already returned to Morgan Court.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Marker said, coming forward to take her cape.

“Has his lordship come home?” Allegra asked the butler.

“He is in his rooms, Your Grace. Hawkins says he has caught a bit of a chill at the cockfights.”

“Have tea brought up to my apartments,” Allegra instructed Marker, and then she hurried up the stairs. She found her husband soaking in her tub, and smiled. “Boys will be boys,” she greeted him. “You did not wear a hat this morning, did you, my lord?”

“Do not scold, my darling,” he replied, and then he sneezed.

“What are you doing in my tub?” she demanded.

“I was chilled to the bone, Allegra,” he answered, and sneezed again. “Damned cock ring was out of the city, and in the open.”

“Hawkins, get your master out of the tub,” Allegra instructed the valet. “Dry him thoroughly, and we'll tuck him into bed.
My bed.
Honor, there is tea being brought up. Get a warming pan, and warm the sheets, and I'll want another down coverlet. Really, Quinton, and we were to go to the theatre tonight. I'll send around a footman to tell Dree and Marcus we shall not be coming this time.”

“You can go,” he told her. “There can be no gossip if you are in the company of friends,” he told her.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Allegra said sharply. “I am not the Duchess of Devonshire to appear socially in public without my husband at my side. Hawkins, where is the duke's nightshirt?” Then seeing it, Allegra snatched it up herself, and dropped it over his head. “Get into bed, Quinton, before you are really sick. With luck we shall have you cured by the morrow.”

Honor had gotten the brass warming pan and was taking the chill from the sheets so that the duke might
get into bed. When she had finished she said, “You'll want the supper upstairs tonight.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes,” Allegra said shortly. “Nothing heavy, tell cook.” She helped her husband into their bed, and put a nightcap upon his dark head. “We'll try and undo what you have done, Quinton.”

“You are harder than my old nurse,” the duke said. “I did not know you could be such a scold, madame.”

“After dinner, sir, I shall punish you properly,” Allegra murmured softly.

“Will you keep me warm, then, madame?” he murmured back, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Very warm,”
she promised him, and then she kissed his lips. “Now,” she straightened up, “I must go and send a note around to Pickford House to tell the others we are not coming. Drink some tea. It will help to warm you up.”

He caught her hand for a moment. “I do not mind that we are to have an evening alone, my darling,” the duke told her. Then, turning the hand over, he kissed its palm ardently.

Allegra colored, then smiled. “Neither do I, Quinton. Next winter we need not come up to London. By the time we go home to Hunter's Lair we will have tasted all its pleasures, and not need to come back at all until our daughters come for their seasons.”

“We have no daughters,” he reminded her.

“We will … eventually,” she promised him. “Now let me go so I can send my note off to Pickford House.”

“I don't think I can ever let you go, Allegra,” her husband told her.

“To be loved as you love me is sometimes overpowering,” she answered him, and then taking her hand back, hurried off.

Quinton Hunter lay back against the lavender-scented pillows. Her words rang in his head.
To be loved as you love me is sometimes overpowering.
And she loved him back. Passionately in his arms, but with words Allegra was more reserved. He hoped one day she would not be. It was his own personal weakness, although he would never admit to it, that he needed to hear her voicing her love for him. He closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had been ill. He was going to enjoy being taken care of by his beautiful wife.

Allegra had left her bedchamber where her husband lay. She passed through her salon, and hurried downstairs to the small family drawing room. “Fetch Hawkins to me,” she told an attending footman, and when the duke's valet came she said, “Was the duke wearing flannel drawers today, Hawkins?”

“No, Your Grace,” the valet replied. He could see that the duchess was in a fine fettle.

“In future you will see that His Grace is dressed properly for the winter weather, Hawkins, which means his hat as well. If he complains at you you will say that I have given you your orders. Is that understood?” She looked hard at the valet.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he replied.

“You are dismissed,” Allegra told the valet.

Hawkins departed the room, and as he did he ran into Marker. “Her's got a good temper on her, eh, Marker. You must have been given the back of her tongue many times, her growing up in this house.”

“Her Grace is generous of heart, and sweet-natured most of the time,” Marker replied stiffly. He thought the valet presumptuous to say the least. “If she has chastised you then it is because you deserved it. I understand the duke has returned home with a chill. Obviously he was not warmly enough dressed by you this
morning. You had best watch your place, Hawkins. There are those who would be eager to serve His Grace if you cannot.”

“Tough old bird, ain't he?” Hawkins heard behind him, and turned about to see Honor standing there.

“I've had two dressings-down in a very short time,” Hawkins said sourly. “For a lass with no background so to speak, your mistress is a proper Tartar, Honor.”

“You watch your mouth, Hawkins,” Honor said, suddenly angry. “I'll hear naught against my lady. You didn't do your duty.”

“He don't like flannel drawers,” Hawkins said stubbornly, “and I can't make him wear a hat if he don't want to. I'm his valet, not his ma.”

“You have your orders from Her Grace,” Honor warned him. “The duke will obey if you tell him she says it. He loves her something fierce.”

“I'd like to love you,” Hawkins said slyly to Honor.