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Authors: Fenella J Miller

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The business with his lawyers was completed within a morning
and this left Alexander ample time to visit Lady Fulbright. She was of
childbearing age and yet did not get pregnant. Therefore, unless she was barren
she must have a method of avoiding unwanted conception.

      He sent a footman round to
her townhouse in Albemarle Street asking if he might visit her as he had a
favour to ask. He hoped she had forgiven him for his rebuff all those months
ago. Whilst he waited for her reply he gathered up the morning's mail and took
it into the study to read.

      Of Bentley there was no sign—
according to Foster the young man had been out until the small hours at some
social function or other, and would not rise until midday. Alexander detected
a stiffness
in his ancient butler. In fact there was
generally an unwelcome atmosphere amongst all the staff. They were not any less
attentive, but no-one met his eyes or smiled when he approached as they once
did.

      No doubt it was because they
had been obliged to stay in London looking after Bentley. The groom who
delivered the post every day would have taken back the information that Brown
was now butler at Newcomb and Watkins was the housekeeper. He must reassure
them they were not to be turned out to fend for themselves. This was one reason
he'd seen his legal people. His elderly retainers could now retire secure in
the knowledge they had a good annuity and might live in comfort for their
remaining days.

      He flicked through the pile
of invitations pleased he was obviously back on the guest list of the hostesses
who had dropped him while he was drinking and gambling so disgracefully.
Perhaps he would attend one or two of the events; he would like to let people
know he was a father again and that he and Isobel were happy.

      The reply from Gloria arrived
later that afternoon. She suggested they met at Vauxhall Gardens, as there was
to be a spectacular firework display to mark some anniversary or other. It
would probably be wise to meet in public and not visit her house as this might
be misconstrued. He wrote a quick reply agreeing to meet her at nine o'clock.

      Bentley drifted into the
drawing-room as Alexander was preparing to leave. 'Your grace, I beg your
pardon for not having written to you to congratulate you on the birth of Lady
Lucinda. I hope that both mother and baby are doing well?'

      'They
are,
thank you, Bentley. I hope you'll come down for the baptism. Your accommodation
will be finished by then and you can spend the summer with us if that's what
you would like to do.'

      The young man nodded and
smoothed his blue and gold striped waistcoat lovingly. 'I had intended to come
back with you, your grace, but will postpone my visit until the house party if
that's what you would prefer. I see you're about to go out— are you going to
Lady Simmons soiree?'

      'No, I'm meeting friends at
Vauxhall Gardens. It seems there is to be a firework display that should not be
missed.'

      'I might well see you there
later; if not then we shall meet tomorrow. I bid you good evening, your grace.'

      Alexander left the house
seething. God's teeth, one would think
he
was the hanger on and Bentley
the duke. It had not been such a good idea to leave the young man in sole
residence in Grosvenor Square. He'd got ideas above his station. Tomorrow he
would put the young man straight, but tonight he must speak to Gloria. The
thought of being able to make love to his darling girl without fear of a second
pregnancy was reason enough to renew his acquaintance with his former mistress.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-one

 

Alexander sent a letter from London saying he
was delayed and would not be returning until the following week. Isobel was
disappointed as she had been persevering with the binding and was almost free
from unwanted milk. If she avoided Lucinda's feed times she could safely spend
several hours with her baby daughter.

      'Ellie, can you
start altering my gowns? Now I've regained my original form I no longer need to
have them so full in the chest.'

Her maid looked up from her task. 'I
had thought you might like to leave them as they are, my lady, you have a
closet full of beautiful gowns that you've not worn.'

 ‘You’re quite correct. Why
don’t you put the ones I wore during my pregnancy at the back of my
closet.
’ She knew the girl was thinking her mistress might
well be increasing again by the end of the year.

      Her pulse raced
just thinking about the possibility. An image of Alexander proudly naked in her
bed sent a wave of heat from head to toe. Ellie was looking, her eyes wide with
concern. ‘Are you feeling unwell, my lady, have you got a fever?’

Isobel forced her thoughts away from
bed sport. ‘I feel a little overheated, I shall take a walk in the garden to
cool down.’

‘Very well, my
lady.’

Isobel enjoyed her stroll and was
ready to continue with perusing more lists with Mary. A footman held out a
silver salver upon which was a letter. ‘This arrived a few minutes ago, your
grace.’

 She paused in the window to
read the letter. The missive was brief but said everything it

should
.

   
My darling wife,

   I am desolated that I have further
business to attend to before I can be with you. I am

  
returning
next week. I have the information we both wanted. I
can't wait to try out the

efficacy
of this with you.

Your devoted husband

 

In the post script he'd scribbled
the names and number of some extra guests. She had no notion why he'd gone to
Grosvenor Square; no doubt he would explain when he was with her next week. The
season was over, the main reason for his visit had been to speak with his
friend and discover how fashionable ladies avoided yearly babies. Obviously he
had been successful. The staff must know the names of the extra guests so that
they were addressed correctly so she had better speak to Mary immediately.

The next week dragged. She rode for
an hour or two every morning, spent time with Lucinda, oversaw the arrangements
for the house party, but still Alexander's arrival seemed no nearer. A second
missive arrived unexpectedly from her aunt and uncle. It appeared they would be
in the vicinity a week earlier than planned and would now be arriving the day
before her husband.

      She sighed. She
longed to see her relatives and could not ask them to languish in a hostelry
whilst she and Alexander… she could hardly bear to think of what they might be
doing. It sent her dizzy with excitement. Newcomb was vast; surely they could
be private somewhere?

      The house was
looking as welcoming as it could. She'd filled the chambers with flowers and
the furniture and glass sparkled in the sunlight. The extra indoor staff
necessary for such a grand house party would be arriving the next morning from
Grosvenor Square. She wondered how they would adjust to the new regime.

Bill, (she could still not think of
him as Brown) limped towards her. She scarcely noticed his infirmity nowadays.
She was confident everything was running smoothly and the staff would not let
her down.

      'Your grace,
Mrs
Watkins and I've trained three footmen and three maids
to act as valets or
abigails
for any of the guests who might not have brought their own. I hope this will be
satisfactory.'

'Whatever you have arranged will be
acceptable. Look, I believe I can see a carriage coming up the drive. Did Sir
John and Lady Illingworth's luggage cart arrive earlier this morning?'

      'It did, my
lady, and the trunks are unpacked and their apartments ready.' He hesitated
before continuing. 'I've put all single gentlemen on one side of the house and
the young ladies on the other.'

      Her lips
twitched. Good grief! Did he really think this was the kind of house party
where the gentlemen prowled the corridors looking for their lovers?

      Smiling to
herself she returned to the drawing-room to wait. She'd checked her appearance
a dozen times that morning. She was wearing
a new
leaf-green muslin, perfect for a hot a summer's day.

Eventually Bill stepped in to
announce her aunt and uncle, Cousin Petunia, Cousin James and a stranger. This
young gentleman was obviously Petunia's intended.

      'My dear girl,
you look wonderful. One would not know that you're now the proud mother of an
infant daughter.' Aunt Lucy embraced her fondly. 'Is your husband not here?'

'No, he will be here tomorrow, he
has been delayed in London by business and other matters.' She hugged her
uncle, kissed Petunia and curtsied to the gentlemen. 'I am so pleased you were
able to come earlier than arranged. It's been an age since we last saw each
other. I must show you the improvements Alexander has made for me, but after
you have settled in.'

      There was no
time for a private conversation with her cousin until late afternoon. Lucinda
was much admired and the newfangled bathroom declared a wonder to behold.
Eventually the young gentlemen retired to the billiard room and her aunt and
uncle to their apartment for a much-needed afternoon rest.

       Petunia
had been viewing her most anxiously all day and was obviously bursting with a
delicious piece of gossip that could not be shared in public. 'Pet, shall we
take a stroll around the garden? It's far cooler under the trees than it is
down here.'

       'I should
like that above anything, I've something most particular to tell you.'

      When they were
safely out of earshot of any lurking servant her cousin turned to her. 'Isobel,
I must tell you, I've heard the most malicious
rumour
.
Fortunately it has not reached the ears of my parents, but it's been talked
about everywhere. I can't in all conscience allow you to remain in ignorance of
what your guests will assuredly know.'

Isobel's heart sunk to her slippers.
'What is it? It is to do with Alexander, isn't it?'

      'Oh, my dear,
the duke was seen in Vauxhall Gardens, in a private booth with Lady Fulbright.'

      'My husband does
not have to apply to me for permission to visit his friends. If that's all,
then I can't see why anyone should be interested. Don't
all
gentlemen
have a
chere
amie
in Town?' She was amazed her voice sounded
unperturbed when inside she was falling apart.

      'I haven't told
you the rest of it. He was seen leaving Lady Fulbright's house in Albemarle
Street the next morning. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you, but the duke
has renewed his liaison with his mistress.'

      'What Alexander does
in London is no concern of mine and certainly no business of yours, Petunia. I
can't think why you would believe telling me something I already know was
beneficial to either of us.'

Her cousin shook her head in dismay.
'I am
sorry,
I should not have mentioned it. Please
forgive me, you're quite correct. I can't think why anyone should consider such
a thing worth gossiping about.'

      'Do you see the
marquee they are erecting for the garden party next week?
Mr
Reynolds tells me there will be several hundred villagers and tenants
attending. We are to have fire eaters, stilt walkers and conjurors to
entertain.' She rattled on about the ale that had been ordered, the food that
was to be prepared until she was certain her cousin was convinced the news she'd
imparted was of no interest.

      'I can see your
young man approaching. I shall leave you to continue your walk in his company.
We dine at seven o'clock as Alexander does not like to keep country hours.'
Somehow she made her way back to her apartment without betraying her dismay.
Once safe from prying eyes she gave way to tears— eventually her head cleared
and she came to a decision.

     
When he came back she would make it perfectly plain she knew what he'd been
doing in
London, that
he'd broken his promise and
everything had changed between them. George must remove all his belongings from
the closets in her apartment and set him up again in the master suite. He was
no longer welcome in her bedchamber. Leaving him was not an option she
considered any more. She would remain at his side and
fulfil
her duties as his duchess, but
there would be no more children.
Mr
Bentley could
remain his next in line.

      On impulse she
decided to hold a celebration ball and invite all the prestigious families of
the
neighbourhood
. She would establish herself in the
area; after all she’d been married for more than two years and had yet to hold
a grand event.
Although she did not have the duke’s
permission, the ball would go ahead whatever his views on the matter.

*

At her morning meeting with Mary she broached
the subject. 'We are already having a garden party for the villagers, tenants
and staff to celebrate Lucinda's baptism. I've now decided to hold a ball on
the following evening. This only gives you two weeks’ notice, will that be
sufficient?'

      'Yes, indeed, my
lady. It's high time you established yourself as the Duchess of Rochester. I've
ready a list of all the suitable families, I felt sure that sooner or later you
would wish to introduce yourself to local society.'

Isobel's unhappiness lifted a
little. Perhaps if she made new friends, was no longer so isolated, living here
might be bearable. She sincerely hoped that
he
would return to London,
or remove himself some other part of the country, and leave her to live
peacefully at Newcomb with her daughter.

      Her stomach
revolted, her hand flew to her mouth and she swallowed furiously. How could she
deny him access to her bed when it had been agreed between them they must produce
an heir? She closed her eyes. Being estranged from Alexander was going to be so
much harder this time because her love had blossomed over these past months. To
lose him a second time was more than she could bear. Should she pretend she
didn't know?

      She was tempted
to discuss her heartbreak with Mary, but this was too personal a subject to
share even with her. 'How many local guests will there be, Mary?'

      'Well, my lady,
I can't say exactly without referring to the list, but I should think around
fifty or more. Pray excuse me, I shall fetch it directly, and then you can read
it at your leisure. Do you wish me to begin the planning before the cards are
sent out?'

      'Do that, Mary.
We already have more than thirty staying here, I'm quite sure they will
appreciate a dance, even if no one else accepts my invitation. Do you know
,
I don't believe I've been in the ballroom above three
times in all the time I've lived here?'

      'I shall arrange
to have it cleaned immediately. There's ample time to send to the warehouses
for what we need. Bill will speak to you about the champagne and wine; he will
know exactly what's in the cellar.'

      By the end of
the day cards had been sent out to fifteen families all within an hour's drive
of Newcomb. If everyone attended there would be in excess of thirty couples—
more than enough to make the enormous room seem full.

 Having the dance to look
forward to, as well as the other two events, alleviated her misery somewhat.
However she wasn't looking forward to Alexander's reaction when he discovered
he was to host a ball for more than one hundred people and every one of them
would know he had been visiting his mistress.

      She shuddered as
her mind went back to that horrible night when Lucinda had been conceived.
Would his reaction be the same? No, although he'd broken his promise to remain
faithful, she believed he was a different person now. He no longer drank to
excess, did not gamble or associate with ne'er-do-wells.

Alexander would not mistreat her however
angry he was at her decision. No doubt he considered his
behaviour
perfectly acceptable. Many gentlemen kept a mistress tucked away somewhere. The
difference in this case was that somehow it had become a matter of gossip
amongst the
ton
. If he had not given her his word, he would always be
safe for the knowledge would not hurt as much.

      Despite her
unhappiness her lips twitched. She recalled that families with whom she had
mixed in her younger days— some had three or four children, others too many to
remember all their names. My goodness! The very thought of her own parents
still indulging in bedroom sport shocked her to the core. Her youngest sibling
had been in leading strings when she had left home so obviously her parents had
a most loving relationship.

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