The Duchess (31 page)

Viscount Pickford, the Earl of Aston, and Lord Walworth along with their wives were the duke and duchess's houseguests. The earl was dressed as one of his Elizabethan ancestors, in black velvet with a starched white neckruff, and Eunice was a lady of the same period in a black and gold gown. She wore marvelous diamond jewelry. Lord Walworth was an Indian prince in scarlet silk and cloth of gold with a gold turban sporting a large black pearl and several ostrich feathers. But Caroline had chosen to dress herself as a medieval jester in a bright tunic costume of red, blue, and yellow. There were bells on her shoes, and her cap. Her legs were sheathed in red and yellow striped tights, and appeared most shapely. Viscount Pickford made them all laugh in his brown monk's costume, for he said he felt
like a monk right now. Sirena blushed as she laughed, teasing him that one could not make a cake without breaking eggs and baking it in the oven. She was garbed in the full blue and silver brocade of a medieval lady, which nicely concealed her delicate condition.

They had barely finished dinner when the guests began arriving. The duke and the duchess hurried to the ballroom to greet them. Most had never been inside Hunter's Lair, and those few who had marveled at its transformation.

“What wonders have been accomplished,” a plump gentleman said.

“Money can buy anything,” sniffed his wife, her beady eyes darting about.

“Except good taste,” drawled another lady, “but it would appear that the duchess has a great deal of that. Everything is exquisite.”

The musicians played a minuet as the Duke and Duchess of Sedgwick opened the ball. Familiar country dances followed. Those guests not interested in dancing found the drawing room set up for cards, and the play began in earnest.

Allegra kept a sharp eye out that the candles in the candelabras and sconces did not smoke, but she need not have for Crofts was carefully watching, too. He had been in service in this house for sixty years, but never had he seen a party such as the one being held tonight. He felt his chest swelling with pride. This was the way the Dukes of Sedgwick should have always entertained.

At midnight the masks came off, although everybody had already known who was beneath them. The dining room doors were opened, and the guests trooped into the beautiful room to enjoy the buffet. Long tables covered in fine Irish linen, and filled to overflowing, greeted them. There were two whole sides of beef being carved
expertly. There was venison, salmon, trout, raw oysters, and roast geese. There were several turkeys, quail, partridge pies, and rabbit pasties. There were bowls of macaroni and cheddar cheese, potato puffs, potatoes with Hollandaise sauce, green peas, onions in milk and butter with black pepper, baked carrots and apples, green beans, and braised lettuce in white wine. There were six large hams that had been baked with honey, brown sugar, and cloves. There were platters of lobsters and mussels steamed until their shells opened. There were prawns served with a mustard and mayonnaise sauce. The guests didn't know where to begin.

The dessert table was equally resplendent with a dozen Genovese cakes; tarts of lemon, raspberry, and mince; apple, pear, and apricot fritters; several different cheese cakes; both pear and apple tarts; six large caramel custards; tiny pots au chocolat; and at the last moment the servants brought out soufflés of lemon and chocolate. There were also delicate sugar wafers, and decanters of sweet port wine on the dessert table.

“Never seen such an elegant spread hereabouts,” Lady Bealle said approvingly. “Most generous. Most hospitable.” Lady Bessie Bealle was the local dowager with the most influence in the county. Her favor was eagerly sought by all the hostesses.

“She is surprisingly mannerly, and well-spoken for a young woman of lesser family,” the Countess of Whitley noted.

“But of course Sedgwick married her for her money,” said Lady Margaret Dursley. “The Hunters are over-proud, and have always taken only the best girls for wives.”

“The best gels with the smallest, or nonexistent fortunes,” Lady Bessie Bealle reminded them. “Poor Sedgwick was down to living in one room if the gossip be
true. He could hardly take a respectable wife under such circumstances. And, my dears, he may have married her for her money, but have you noticed how truly attentive he is to his beautiful wife? It's a love match if I ever saw one!”

Her companions grudgingly agreed, as about them the other guests ate and drank and gossiped.

Sirena left the ballroom shortly after one o'clock in the morning. “I am constantly exhausted these days,” she explained to her cousin. “It has gotten a bit better of late, but I must seek my bed. Do be sure that Ocky behaves himself and doesn't drink too much.”

“I will, darling,” Allegra said, kissing her cousin on both of her cheeks. “Sweet dreams.”

The festivities went on, and while she had to admit that even she was getting tired, Allegra remained the perfect hostess. The musicians played endlessly. The guests danced and gossiped and gambled. By dawn when breakfast was served in the large dining room, over fifty people remained. The duchess, however, bid each and every one of her departing guests a personal farewell, thanking them for coming. She had gained Lady Bealle's approval fully, and that was good enough for the other hostesses in the county. The Duchess of Sedgwick's family might not have been at the top of the tree, but they had raised her to take her place there; and such a position as she now held suited her perfectly.

Finally the last of their guests were waved off on a gray and chilly November first morning. The house-guests had already hurried off to their rooms as the duke escorted his wife upstairs to her apartments. Closing the door behind him he took her in his arms, and kissed her slowly and very sweetly.

“I could not have chosen a better duchess,” he told her honestly.

“It did go well,” she agreed with a small smile. “The servants must be given their due in all of this, Quinton. They performed their duties admirably.” She sighed, and put her head against his chest. “I am exhausted, my lord.”

“Honor will help you, my dear,” he said, and then kissing her hand he left her to go to his own apartments next door.

“It was grand, your ladyship,” Honor said enthusiastically. “I watched from the stairs for a time last night as they came into the house. I have never in all my life seen such beautiful clothes as were worn by your guests. It was a sight out of the stories my old granny used to tell.” She took the cloth of gold cape off Allegra's shoulders, laying it aside.

“Some of the costumes were fantastic,” Allegra agreed with a smile. “Well, Honor, I have had my baptism of fire as the Duchess of Sedgwick, and I have survived. Old Lady Bealle fully approves of me.”

“And well she should,” Honor replied loyally as she helped her mistress from the heavy wig, and the rest of her clothing. Then she said, “I know it's late, or rather early, m'lady, but I drew a small bath for you in your dressing room. Will you be taking it?”

Allegra nodded, and walked naked across the bedchamber into her dressing room where her porcelain tub was set up now. Stepping into the lukewarm scented water she sank down and sighed. “Oh, this is wonderful, Honor. You are a clever girl.” She did not linger long, however, just long enough to quickly wash. Honor dried her with a large towel, which was a great deal warmer than her tub had been, and slid a soft white cotton night garment over her mistress. Then Allegra climbed gratefully into bed, and was asleep almost instantly. She did not hear her husband come into the
room shortly after Honor had left. And she certainly never felt him climb into bed next to her.

When she awoke in midafternoon he was lying next to her, snoring lightly. She rolled onto her side and studied him. They hadn't even been married a full month yet, but there had been no time to really study Quinton Hunter. Yes, he was handsome with his black hair and thick eyelashes that now fanned across his high cheekbones. Those eyelashes were every bit as thick as hers, Allegra thought. His eyebrows were heavy and bushy. He had a long, and what was referred to as an aquiline nose.
And his mouth.
She sighed softly. It was big, and gave her the most delicious kisses. She considered his chin. It was square, and there was a dimple directly in the center. It was really quite outrageous.

Then suddenly his silvery eyes were staring into her violet ones. Allegra gasped, startled. “You are awake,” she said, wondering how long he had been aware of her scrutiny.

He smiled lazily at her. “May I assume that you approve of what you see, madame?” he said.

“What on earth do you mean, Quinton?”

“You were studying me quite closely, madame.” He rolled her suddenly onto her back, his hands restraining hers quite effectively. “Admit it, duchess.” He gave her a quick kiss.

“Never.” She laughed, and then she shrieked. “Sir, you are a randy fellow. Why your manhood is hard as a rock against my leg.”

“I have to pee,” he announced, releasing her, and then getting up to find the chamber pot. “But when I am finished, Duchess, you have my permission to make me randy,” he told her with a wicked grin. Then turning his back he pissed into the flowered china chamber pot, sighing with relief as he pushed it back beneath their
bed. He turned about, and advanced upon her once again.

“Quinton.
We have guests,” Allegra cried.

“Who, if they are awake, my dear duchess, are probably doing exactly what you and I are about to do,” he told her, grinning again.

“It is daylight,” she protested as he climbed back next to her. “Can you do it in the daylight?”

Quinton Hunter burst out laughing. “My darling duchess,” he said, “you can do it any time and almost anywhere, I assure you.”

“How interesting,” she purred, her voice suddenly very seductive.
“On the rug?”
Her look was questioning.

“Yes.”

“In the garden?”

“Absolutely.”

“In my bath?”

“A charming idea,” he agreed.

“Any time?”

“And almost any place,”
he repeated softly, kissing her ear.

“But what if I were dressed?” she demanded.

“I should take great pleasure, Duchess, in lifting your skirts in order to have my way with you,” he murmured wickedly, blowing into her ear now.

“Oh la, sir, you are very naughty,” Allegra accused him, but her heart was beating wildly. He was half atop her, their legs entwining in a sensuous embrace. His lips were employed in kissing her lips, her throat, her face, and every part of her body that he could reach. Her round little breasts were crushed against his hard chest, his soft fur irritating her nipples which suddenly seemed extraordinarily sensitive.

Her perfumed skin was utterly intoxicating, he
thought. Unable to help himself, he began to mouth her with his lips. Was it possible to eat her up? He certainly wanted to devour her for she was to his thinking most delicious. His lips moved across her belly. He could feel a pulse fluttering beneath his mouth. She was making little noises that seemed to come from the back of her throat. She was writhing beneath him, and he held her fast so he might continue kissing her. His manhood was beginning to hurt, throbbing with desire, eager to plunge within her fragrant warmth. Finally Quinton Hunter could wait no longer. Covering her lush body with his, he pressed forward.

“Ahhhh,” Allegra cried as he entered her. “Ohh, Quinton!
Oh, darling, yes!”
Her slim arms clutched at him. Her long legs wrapped themselves about his lean torso. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The words were almost a prayer.

He was lost within her. His thoughts disappeared. There was only sensation, and the wonder of the pleasure they were giving and sharing with each other. His hips drove relentlessly against her hips. His hands tangled themselves into the dark mass of her hair, holding her head tightly as their kisses fired volley after volley of hot desire that coursed through their veins until they could kiss no more. They were breathless with the hunger they seemed to engender within each other. They were so finely attuned to each other that once again they exploded together, then collapsed into each other's embrace.

For several long minutes the sounds of their breathing, at first ragged, and finally less harried, filled the room.

“You are magnificent,” the duke finally said to his wife, kissing her softly as he rolled away from her. Propping himself upon an elbow he looked down into her beautiful face.

“You called me
darling,”
he said.

“I didn't,”
she quickly denied.

He laughed softly. “You did, Allegra. Could it be that you are beginning to harbor a
tendre
for me, Duchess?”

“I hardly know you, sir,” she said, struggling to keep herself from falling headlong into his silvery gaze.

“You have known me since April,” he said, chuckling, “and you have lived at Hunter's Lair with me since mid-June
and
you have been my wife for four weeks.”

“Is it four weeks?” she said innocently.

“Say you love me,” he coaxed her. “You know that I love you,” Quinton Hunter said softly.

“You lust after me,” she said. “Is that love, my lord?”

“Lusting after you is part of my love for you,” he explained to her. “But the thought of being without you—
ever
—drives me to darkest despair, Allegra.
I love you.
And I think you love me.”

“I don't understand love,” Allegra persisted.

“Do not be evasive, Allegra,” he gently scolded her. “Answer yourself this question. Would you rather be with me, or without me?”

“With you,” she cried without hesitation.

“You love me,” he said quietly.

And the reality slammed into her.
She did love him!
She didn't understand anything about love, or why she felt the way she did toward him, but she did.
“I love you,”
she said wonderingly. “Oh, Quinton, I do.”

“I know,” he replied, enfolding her into his arms. “Despite our careful resolve, my darling duchess. Despite the plain facts that would caution us against such folly, we have nonetheless fallen in love with each other.” He kissed the top of her head. “I do not understand it either, Allegra, but there it is.”