My Divinely Decadent Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “Yes. Yes. I see the two of you are besotted. Now away with you and enjoy the ball.”

  They arose to leave.

  “And Althorn.”

  “Majesty?”

  “Fox’s loss was your gain, true?”

  “Very true, Sire. All too true,” the duke responded.

  “Good, I’m glad he suffered. Now off with you and perhaps, my dear Duchess, you will honor me with a dance?”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” she offered. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “The only problem is that your husband will watch us closely.” He looked to the duke wryly, “Do not scowl, Althorn. I will be on my best behavior. I am fond of you and your wife.”

  They left the King, clinging to each other until they reached the ballroom. “We should discuss this conversation at home.” His brow was furrowed at the news just imparted.

  Cassandra nodded. “Gordon, I do have to use the ladies retiring room. I have no dance commitment and I will return shortly.”

  He nodded and watched as she sauntered away, her red feather nestled in her nape. All eyes followed her. He lost sight of her plume when she disappeared into the foyer.

  In the retiring room, Cassandra met her cousin Samantha. They went to a corner behind a draped panel, and used the necessary. When they returned, Cassandra said, “I’m concerned I’m about to lose my mind. Everything isn’t what it seemed.” She told her cousin about their conversation with the King.

  “At least the King knows what a blackguard Fox was. Consider it as part of your past, dear Cassandra.” She paused. “Don’t let the revelation disturb you. Revel in your happiness.” She repinned the plume in Cassandra’s hair. “You over worry, my dear. Your husband is attentive and showers you with attention. What more could you want?”

  “To know he truly loves me. All his demonstrations testify to it, yet the words never escape his lips. What if I misread him? Is this what rakes do? Do they tantalize and cause a woman to lose—her maidenhood and always want more?” She lowered her lashes. “Or am I just a ninny?”

  “Sit next to me, Cassandra.” Her voice was low, less than a whisper. “You must give him some time. He didn’t court you long. You’ve been married four weeks, perhaps five. Might you not be expectant of a miracle? He has been free for quite some time.” Samantha touched her cousin’s shoulder. “Was your experience everything you asked me about? He seemed to be more than pleased.”

  “What do you mean? He discussed it with you? I’m shocked.” She grasped for her fan and pounded it to her palm.

  “Calm down. He thanked me for my good advice to you. How else was I to take his remark?”

  “He calls me his wife, his treasure, his sweet, yet I also manage the household, I’m caretaker for his mother and the children. I wake up in his bed, and he begs me not to leave. Damn. Damn. Damn. I live in two worlds, and I don’t know if I belong to both or none. I’m so confused.”

  “Love mends all things. Give it time. Just be yourself. He looks besotted to me. His eyes follow you wherever you go. God pity the man who would attempt to take you out on a balcony. There would be a duel,” Samantha laughed.

  “I wouldn’t go on a balcony with a man who isn’t my husband after my first experience with Gordon. You would lecture me, too.” Cassandra raised a brow. “Isn’t that so, cousin?”

  Samantha’s eyes held hers.

  Two matrons walked in and were in anxious discussion. “Her conduct is scandalous,” the dark haired woman spoke. “She leaves the theatre and enters a hotel across from the street where it is rumored Felicity Montgomery and her lover, Lawrence Acton, stay overly long every Tuesday and Thursday. Lady Penelope was in the jewelers with her husband and saw the Countess Montgomery purchase a sterling cigarette case and matching lighter.”

  “Why is that significant?” the other woman asked.

  “Because Brent Montgomery loathes the dirty habit.” Her dark haired companion nodded her head.

  “Oh, I see. So it must be true. She’s cheated on him. Adultery is unforgiveable. They are newly married.”

  “You can never trust an actress. She made short work and got her sister-in-law out of the house. Poor Cassandra, married to a notorious rake. Soon he will tire of her.”

  “I don’t know that marriage to him would be such a trial. He’s handsome, rich, and charming. Most likely he’s well endowed, too. Though he couldn’t take his eyes off his wife tonight.” The woman fussed with her hair. “Cassandra is wearing a scarlet gown and seems happy. Maybe their marriage will be blessed.”

  “Come, let’s leave and seek the others.” They walked out of the room.

  Cassandra was agape. “Do you think it’s true, Samantha?”

  “Those harpies ought to know. They’re rarely wrong. Felicity may have her hands full of trouble if the word gets about.”

  Cassandra reached for Samantha’s hands. “Oh, no. My brother would have to avenge the libelous statement. He could be killed in a duel. What can I do?”

  “I’m not expert on these trysts. Perhaps you should speak to your husband. Yes. That’s it. He’ll know what to do.”

  “I do believe Althorn has had enough revelations for this evening.”

  They left the room. Samantha joined her husband. Cassandra went in search of hers. Ahead she saw Felicity and her brother. She about-faced and sped across the ballroom floor, fanned herself and averted all eyes. Cassandra found she was on the balcony alone, turned to retreat to the ballroom and ran into her husband.

  “Tell me what else has happened.” He blocked her way.

  She ran into his arms and he led her to a seat along the wall. “Be calm. Just tell me.” He held her hands.

  Cassandra related the conversation she’d overheard. “I need guidance. What do I do? Do I tell Brent? What if it’s not true? It’s no secret Felicity and I have no affection for each other. How can I possibly tell this to my brother? He could think me jealous or guilty of avarice.”

  Gordon held her against him. The comfort of his arms soothed. “Shush, my dear. Montgomery wouldn’t think such of you. Tomorrow is Thursday. We shall visit your brother. Ask if you could speak with him, and relay the conversation in its entirety. He’s no fool. All he has to do is check the invoices from the jeweler to see if there’s a sterling cigarette case and lighter on it. She obviously didn’t purchase it for him, so by process of elimination she gifted it to someone who smokes. Did they mention the actor’s name?”

  “I need a moment to think.” She inhaled, “Yes, the name Lawrence Acton was referenced.”

  “Tomorrow morning, I will take you to Montgomery’s townhouse. I will remain in our carriage. If Felicity should present herself, I’ll follow her in and simply inform her I was there to collect you. We must try to avoid this embarrassment of your brother. You may advise him if he needs my help, I will be at his disposal.”

  “Who will take care of my household duties…the children, and your mother?”

  “We have a Nanny and Miss Dutton. They can manage for a few hours without you. Was Samantha with you when this occurred?” he asked, his hand rubbing his chin.

  “Yes. It was she who told me to consult with you—that you’d know what to do.”

  “She is also a witness that you aren’t lying. Would you like to go home now? It’s been quite a day and night for us both. It is much to absorb. The King’s vindication. Your brother’s wife’s indiscretion. You have danced with the King, correct?”

  “Yes, on the way to the Ladies Room, his servant came to me, and directed me to the King where we danced for a short time. He had to leave.”

  He took Cassandra’s arm, nodded to Samantha and Ravensmere, and both couples were given their capes and accessories. They waited for their carriages.

  “Nasty business,” Ravensmere whispered. “I don’t envy the man.”

  “Indeed,” Althorn answered. “Neither do I. Faithless wives are a stigma. Nothing hurts more than a lie from someone you love.”

  R
avensmere’s carriage arrived, followed by Althorn’s. They bid each other good night. In their coach on the way home, Gordon said, “I kept the thought in mind that if you were unfaithful to me, I would kill you and your lover. A man should be able to know when a woman thinks of someone other than he.”

  “I beg your pardon, Gordon. It is a mortal sin to take another man while married. I could never do that. You made it clear there were to be no lovers for me ever. I believe in fairy tales.”

  “Cassandra, I’m wrong to speak as I did. I’m jealous. I apologize. You pleased me well this evening with your deportment in public. You always do, but tonight you were a vision in a red dress that suited you so. Every man in the ballroom envied me. I was proud to present you as my wife. It’s occurred to me I don’t show you off enough. I will remedy that in the future, for I’m proud of you.”

  “Your apology is accepted,” she whispered.

  “Come to my chambers this evening, if you would. We always have so much to talk about.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes. “My head is muddled. You are the one who keeps me whole. Say Yes, Cassandra.”

  She nodded instead and looked away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The coach arrived at their villa in good time. Cassandra was anxious to inform her brother of the sad news about his wife. It would be a sleepless night and she needed a distraction. Who better to distract than her rake of a husband? It no longer mattered that he didn’t love her, for she loved him. She lied to herself. It did matter. She wanted to hear him say the words more than she wanted air to breathe.

  Chester opened the double doors and Gordon handed off his cape to the majordomo. Cassandra ascended the steps with Gordon behind her. She walked the corridor to her suite, opened the door and closed it. She leaned against the gold and white paneled portal and hesitated for some time. She unfastened her cape and laid it carefully on her French Bergère chair in front of her escritoire.

  The oval Cheval mirror stood guard in the corner and she gazed at her reflection. Cassandra looked the part of a Duchess of the highest water and she was proud of herself, too. She’d come a long way from the jilted virgin Viscount Fox left behind. Posh on you, Harold Viscount Fox.

  Part of her plan to convince the duke to love her was to seduce him in many ways. She’d drawn a risqué sketch of an undergarment she only saw in her dreams. While she was uncomfortable in her nakedness with him, she wanted a bit of mystique. She’d produced the first version of a black, very brief…she didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t a pantalet. It wasn’t a pantaloon. It wasn’t very much of anything. It was a small cover for over her sex entrance, more like a man’s small loincloth. Triangular in shape, it did cover her private part, and was held in place with a corded string both front and back embroidered in rosebuds, except her posterior cheeks were overexposed. It would afford a modest effect for an immodest act. And of course, the rosebuds were embroidered in a strategic place.

  She removed her gown, placed it in the armoire and made sure to tuck it in so there could be no creases.

  Cassandra undressed and put her undergarments away with care except for the rosebud corset. She found the new panty, as she called it, for lack of any other nomenclature went under the corset, so that from the front, it was quite a vision of French decadence. Her stockings and garters were black. From Madame Claudette she’d ordered a black negligee type wrapper embroidered with red chrysanthemums courtesy of a twelfth century Chinese sketch.

  She doused herself with French perfume, took a look in the mirror again, and said a prayer. Dear God, help me make him love me as I love him. So unsure of his love, her heart was torn to pieces. Wasn’t she just a token wife?

  She steeled her back, exited her bedroom, and went to his. She gave a slight tap and entered before he could speak. Thank God, he waited for her. He was seated in the settee with the decanters in front of him on the tray. He arose to greet her and extended his hand.

  She accepted, flipped partially open her black wrapper, heard his gasp, and leaned over to him, “Do you like what you see, Gordon?”

  “Dammit, Cassandra. You undo me.”

  “Pour me a drink, your Grace. I need diversion tonight, and I have chosen my rake of a husband to take off my mind my predicament. That’s you, in the case you’ve forgotten. It only gets better.”

  “I could never forget you.”

  “Good. Then let us proceed. I would like to show you a new garment I’ve created.” She laughed. “Garment is a large word for a tiny piece of cloth without a suitable name.”

  He handed her the drink, and sat. “Are you about to perform for me?” his low voice rasped, his smile decadent and obvious.

  “May I, your wonderful Grace?” she teased, tantalized, and was ready to proceed.

  He rubbed his finger across his mouth. “I’m ready.”

  She sat tall, clad in a black stocking, one leg bent and pointed at him. Her toes circled his groin. His grunt was music to her ears. She stood and fully opened her oriental negligee, took the lapels and revealed to him the rosebud corset, the panty cloth, stockings and garter, with both hands and arms in invitation.

  “Dammit,” he cursed. “You take my breath away.”

  “That’s not the point of this…research.”

  “Research?” he asked.

  “Yes, I need to have a male reaction.”

  “Do you perhaps mean a male erection?”

  “Perhaps both. I am such a novice at this. Thank goodness, I have you to experiment with.”

  “Experiment?”

  “Yes. I am limited by my female sensibilities. One favor, Gordon?”

  “And that is?”

  “Please be honest. Would you, the greatest, and only, rake I know, pay good blunt to see a women thusly dressed…or undressed?”

  “I would kill for you,” was his answer. “Just look what’s happened to me,” he said like a cock of the walk, his gaze at his swollen member.

  Cassandra walked toward him, every step an invitation. Left foot. Right foot. Forward. She stood in front of him and moved her shoulders to and fro for him to view her breasts. “Is something missing? Have I neglected some enticement? I see you do not reach for me. Oh, dear, what can I do to make it more delectable?”

  “You can mount me right now and put me out of my misery.”

  She wiggled in front of him. “Do you like the new panty?”

  “I can’t wait to rip it off.”

  “Gordon, please pay attention. The idea is to delay…the pleasure so the ecstasy takes hold and summons your masculine member to do its duty.”

  “Duty, you say. I believe I’ve complied. More aptly put, a man’s pleasure.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

  “Whatever God, Christian or not, who graced me with you, I will praise.”

  She pulled back from him. “Gordon, no paganism, if you please. I will tend to your needs, as soon as—”

  “Soon as you touch me with your golden hands.”

  She hesitated. “Do you feel we can make money for poor orphans if I…we…sell this creation.”

  “I would orphan myself for you. Cassandra, have mercy on your poor husband.”

  “Very well, you may have your wicked way with me, but I will extract the same pleasure…from you.”

  “Start now, I’ll be grateful.” He swooped upon her like a hungry man. “You are magnificent, my lovely Cassandra.”

  “Only magnificent?” She pressed her body against his, and conveyed him to his bed.

  “I would beggar myself just for the opportunity to kiss your breasts.”

  “They are for your pleasure and to make you so weak you would want them in your mouth forever. It would please me.”

  “You are a sorceress.”

  “No, in actuality, I am your love slave. Do with me as your wish, husband.”

  And he did.

  ****

  The Tittle Tattler, Morning Herald, and the Morning Chronicle newspapers were ironed a
nd folded in the dining room, where the duke and the family usually broke their fast. Althorn was the first to arrive and partook of his usual breakfast of soft boiled eggs, a rasher of lean bacon, one slice of toast, fruit, and cocoa.

  Cassandra had a fitful night and didn’t want to wake. She was the last to be seated. She and Lady Madelaine usually had oats, cream, fruit, and hot tea. The children usually ate with their nanny and Miss Dutton in the upper bedroom next to Cassandra’s, now known to all as the nursery schoolroom.

  From the Tattler Tales. The King’s Final Ball was an outstanding success. Our Majesty, not to be outdone at this fete, had twenty-eight courses of food for his one hundred forty elite guests. The Belle of the Ball was the lady in the racy scarlet dress with her feathered plume, the flaxen-haired Duchess Althorn, who was seen on the balcony underneath the stars, in the embrace of a man. Lest you misunderstand, it was none other than her husband, Althorn, where they danced and kissed many times. What a novelty they presented. A man so enamored of his new wife, he growled at any of the men on her dance card. In addition, we even got a peek at the black rosebud corset when he removed her fichu. Viva La Parisian!

  After breakfast, Cassandra and the duke drove to Earl Montgomery’s home. The sole footman jumped to the walk them to depart. Althorn walked her to the door.

  Her hand shook uncontrollably.

  He spoke in a whisper. “I’ll be here in the carriage, Cassandra. You do the right thing for your brother’s honor.” He kissed her forehead as the butler ushered her inside.

  “Good morning, is Brent available to see me?” Her voice was almost inaudible.

  “Lady Cassandra, he is in the study. May I conduct you there?”

  She nodded and followed the servant who tapped on the door and was told to enter.

  Cassandra crossed into the room. “Morning, Brent.” She stood tall. “May I sit for a moment?”

  “What a pleasant surprise, Cassandra. Do come in. Felicity isn’t at home, but would you care for tea?” His was such a handsome face and how she loved every wrinkle and furrow on it. She needed a full dose of courage to tell him the sad accusation.