My Divinely Decadent Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “You’d be surprised at how much more there’ll be between us, my wife.” He turned to the dowager. “I do believe my mother tires.”

  “Shall I have a servant escort you, Mother?”

  Before she could offer to leave the table with Lady Madelaine, his brow arched in contained fury; his gaze shot across the length of the table. Cassandra’s lips stilled.

  “Thank you, Gordon.” The dowager arose and a servant walked behind her as she took to the steps.

  He simply stared at Cassandra, perused her body, and how her generous bosom invited his attention even in the simple frock she wore. His face couldn’t hide his anger.

  “You have left my bed of your own accord. That is a serious dereliction of duty on a wife’s part in England, punishable by beatings…and other dire measures.”

  “It wasn’t the intent of our agreement to chain me to you and your bed.”

  He poured more cognac into his snifter. “Now that conjures a seductive thought—perhaps you would enjoy such activity?”

  “Stop it, Gordon. You are like a two-sided coin. One side is gracious and the other side is lascivious.” She clasped her hands in her lap.

  “Did you expect me to jump for joy at the prospect of your early departure from my house on a permanent basis? After all we’ve shared, Cassandra? Did it mean nothing to you? Did you simply use me as a connoisseur of decadent lingerie?” He rose from his chair, glass in hand and walked the long length to her position.

  “No, but I did not expect you to display fits of anger. It couldn’t have been a surprise to you.”

  “Cassandra, allow me to recollect. You proposed the agreement. I originally refused and because I took pity on you, I agreed to our business arrangement, as you put it.”

  “You took pity on me? Is that what changed your mind? I didn’t need you as much as you needed me to care for your mother and get her well. You ass.”

  “I might well be an ass since I trusted you, but you have stolen from me, my wife.”

  She stood and faced him with defiance. “I have stolen nothing and only taken those items that were mine. Gowns, jewelry, coins, all are left behind.” Her napkin dropped from her lap.

  “You are a thief, Cassandra. You have stolen the love of my mother, stolen the love of my dog, stolen the affection of my staff, and you claim you’re not a thief?”

  “I did not steal them. It was theirs to give and I accepted—all to please you. You’re a dolt.”

  “Hmm, did you take the lingerie you designed?”

  “Yes, they were mine. I paid for them before I met you, Gordon.”

  “Do you intend to put them to future use?” he asked, and moved an alcohol-braced whisper’s breath away from her.

  “How do I know? If you want them, I’ll leave them for you to lavish on one of your other women.”

  His hand slid around her waist. “There have been no other women since I met you. You are aware of that fact, aren’t you?”

  “I hadn’t given it a thought. You’ve kept me so occupied, I don’t have free time to think.”

  “I believe you lie to yourself, however, I indicated I wouldn’t stop you if you wished to leave, and that is so. Yet, I wonder if you would entertain one last night with me for a final end to a four month marriage of convenience that has suddenly turned inconvenient.”

  “I’d rather sleep in a stable than by your side,” she spat.

  “I would never force myself on you, but perhaps you could be coaxed to have mercy on your poor husband who’ll be left without any conjugal rights available to him?”

  “No.”

  “Then one last kiss? The memory of it will warm me on cold nights.”

  “If you do take to cold nights, a servant can bring you a warm brick, and perhaps you can strike yourself on the head with it.”

  Then a simple thing happened. They laughed. He extended his arm. She accepted as they walked out of the room. Together.

  As they ascended the steps, there were snickers and smiles. He pointed Cassandra to her chambers, opened his bedroom door, and closed it.

  He would win her back, if it killed him.

  Besides, the King’s Ball had many balconies, and they were dangerous together in such an atmosphere. How he loved a challenge. And the chase.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  In the quiet of his lonely room, Althorn was more than restless. The cognac gave him a pleasant buzz in his head, but not enough to allow sleep.

  When did the clock chimes hammer his head? Tick. Bang. Tock. Bang. Tick. Bang.

  He clasped his hands to his ears to block the sound. It didn’t offer any release.

  He stood, walked to the door, scanned the room, and her face was on the wall. Shaken, he turned, and strode to the armoire where her wrapper hung. His fingers clutched the fabric. The scent of her permeated his nostrils.

  Everywhere in the room a memory of her assaulted his head. When he refused her proposition. The terrified look on her face when he invited her to his chamber for the first time. The delightful way she lost her inhibitions when she modeled the French lingerie she created. Her beautiful posterior when she showed him the latest fad—the decadent panty. More importantly, the time she touched his heart when she called the dowager, Mother Madelaine.

  The first—all the first times, she endeared herself to his life. How could he allow her to leave him? Cassandra didn’t tell him she was in a family way, yet she told his mother. Did she not know he’d be proud and thrilled to father her child?

  How could he have been so blind? How would he win her back? A fire burned in the fire place, but why did the cold penetrate his bones? Why? Why? Why? All the why’s in the world could not answer him. He did love her, but why was it so difficult to tell her what he knew she wanted to hear?

  What was truth if it was a lie? Damnation, he wanted her next to him for the rest of his life. More than that, he had given up his profligate ways. Had no one noticed? His mother? His wife? His friends?

  When finally he succumbed to sleep, it was not for long. He would not go to her room and tap on her door. Instead, he dressed and went to his study, where he worked on the business ledgers for hours.

  A knock sounded. Could it be Cassandra? Let it be her.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Alicia came in with Alfie. “Good morning, Sir Uncle. We came to say goodbye.”

  “Come to me, children. It is not goodbye, but a temporary circumstance. It pleases me to know you thought enough of me to say so.”

  Alicia ran to him, sprang on his lap, and her arms flew around his neck. “We don’t want to go, but we must.”

  Alfie jumped on his hip, where Gordon now juggled two emotional children. “Auntie Cassandra would be lonely. She has said she needs somebody to love her. We love her terribly, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. Sometimes, we older folk do silly things to each other to test that love. Perhaps it is what Auntie Cassandra does.”

  “Why did she tell us the reason she has to leave is that you don’t love her?” the child asked in sweet innocence.

  “Auntie is a stubborn woman. She insists she needs to hear certain words and not see my devotion to her. So I propose a game.”

  Their eyes brightened. “What kind of game?”

  “Whilst you are away from me, perhaps you could mention you miss me—and you want to visit and see Clayo—and the other puppies. We should learn to tug at Auntie Cassandra’s heartstrings, because she does have a beautiful and bountiful heart.”

  “Heart strings? I’m not sure what you mean,” Alicia asked.

  “It means you know somebody loves you very much, and you hope and pray they will return your affection and say so.”

  “I see,” said Alicia. “Yes, we will help you. Then we can all be a happy family again?”

  “Most certainly, because I would never deceive you. A duke would never do such an egregious thing.”

  “What does that word mean?” asked Alfie.

  “Terrible
,” he explained.

  “Sir Uncle, what about the new baby?” Alicia asked.

  So she told the children and not him? Heartless woman that I love.

  “Love is like a flower, children. It starts as a tiny bud, and it blossoms a little bit at a time. Then it grows into a beautiful creation. Love has no bounds. It embraces us for what and who we are. Never forget that.” Did he, a rake, really speak about love to the children?

  “We won’t. Will you come to visit us?” Alfie asked.

  “Since you have requested it, I will do so.”

  Alicia gave him a sweet kiss. Probably the sweetest kiss he’d ever had in his life since it was from a lovely child who admired him.

  The gesture stunned him. Admiration can be good. Innocence personified. Damnation.

  “Now, run off, and help your Auntie Cassandra. This cannot be easy for her. And keep her secret about the new baby even though I know, and am so wonderfully pleased. Play our game and all will be well. We will be back together sooner than a wink.”

  Gordon saw Alfie blink his eyes.

  “Maybe not that soon, Alfie. We will work on it. Trust me, uncle would never let you down.”

  Dammit, that was hard. He had to control his emotions. He wanted to cry. For once in his dissolute life he wanted to weep and shout at the world. He was a good man—with a lousy reputation.

  The children scampered off.

  There was another knock to his door.

  “Enter,” he spoke.

  She walked in and his heart leapt somersaults. Cassandra came to say goodbye, adieu, or whatever they called it in any language. His heart was held captive.

  “Morning. The children and I are off to a new adventure. I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for us. And my sweet Gordon, I am not a thief who would steal away on an early dawn.”

  “It was a figure of speech,” he offered. “Please sit, Cassandra. Please know I wish you well and if is freedom you want, I cannot deny you. I will miss you.” He went to her, drew her hand in his, and kissed it with love in his heart. “Never will I regret a moment spent in your company. I admonish myself perhaps I took advantage of such a fine woman, but I freely admit you bedazzled me from the moment we first met when you were jilted, but never more than when I gazed at you with your telescope. I was reeled in like a trout and to this day, I will savor our memories. I want no animosity.”

  He sat in front of her, his posterior against his desk, his hands on the edges. “Shall we always be dear friends? Who knows what the future brings?” He pulled her to him. “One last kiss until we meet at the ball?”

  If you think you are out of my future, you do not know me at all. I will wage war on you until you capitulate. Tell her you love her, you fool.

  Cassandra arose from the damask chair, prepared to give him a chaste kiss, but he pulled her to him and embraced her.

  She tilted her head to his face and kissed him. At first, the kiss was gentle, but as he prolonged the kiss when she opened for him to explore, he took advantage of the opportunity to savor the lushness of her lips—and impart the memory of him.

  He withdrew his mouth, a scant distance away from hers, “Cassandra, I miss you already and you’re not yet gone. It is my dearest hope you will have restless nights without me beside you. Think of me and if you feel you have need of me and my services.” He smiled decadently, “Come to me. No questions asked. I’ll leave my chamber door unlocked until you’re in my arms again, you beautiful thief.”

  “Gordon, all you do confuses me. I’m no thief. If someone were to hear you…”

  “They would know you’ve stolen my heart. I offer it to you in the hopes of forever…” Damnation, he couldn’t say the words she wanted to hear.

  “Forever is a long time, Gordon.” She moved away from him. “Now I must go. Please know I wish you well.”

  She turned and ran from the room to the foyer where the children and his mother waited. He rose from his chair to stop her, beg her to stay, and tell her he loved her more than life, but he hesitated at the door. Cassandra took the dowager’s arm, and she wiped away tears with her right hand. Damn. What was wrong with him? Clayo left his side and ran to the foyer. The door closed, and the dog whined.

  He knelt and petted the dog on the head. “I believe you cry for both of us.” He arose and scanned the foyer.

  Except for the servants who performed their duties, the house was quiet as an unmarked grave.

  From his window, the carriage proceeded down the road to the nanny house. He punched his right hand into his fist—three times. Then he went to his comfortable well-loved leather chair, sat in it, and it was now uncomfortable. He attempted to work on the ledgers on his desk, but his vision blurred.

  He threw the book on his desk, arose and went to the inner kitchen. He asked Cook if proper food supplies were sent to the nanny house. She nodded that some items were provided, but they would not be enough for the long term as there was no food locker sufficient enough in the cottage.

  “I’d like you to prepare a basket to take to them this afternoon. Especially, cinnamon, churned butter, milk, eggs and preserves. A bowl of cherries, Charlotte Russe and Neapolitan cake, also.” The sentimentality of these gifts would remind her of their bed sport together. At least he hoped it would. He was armed with ammunition.

  The duke turned. “Leave word when the basket is ready and I will deliver it. It’s a surprise.” He hesitated, “Mint tea also. I hear it is good for the digestive system.” It might quell her morning sickness.

  When he returned to the foyer, Clayo still stood by the massive double door. “Come, Clayo, we can weep together in my study.”

  Back to his ledgers, his mind wandered. He moved paper across the desk without regard to the contents. His lips were dry, his throat was raw. His mouth tasted like sawdust. His misery left him bereft of thought. A heavy sensation knotted his stomach. Althorn closed his eyes and relived the distraught of their last moments together. The swell of his inner pain was beyond description. The word empty took on new definition.

  ****

  The basket of food was given to him. He dressed in his greatcoat and had his open carriage summoned. It arrived in short time, and he gave the driver instructions to go to the nanny house.

  Short moments later, he knocked at her door. Alicia answered, “It’s Sir Uncle.” She smiled, fumbled a curtsey, and winked at him.

  The nanny house presented a cozy home, chintz curtains in a cabbage rose pattern, sturdy chairs in front of the fireplace, and the pleasant odor of crisped orange skins on the stove grate. It occurred to him that wherever she was, fragrances bloomed whether in a garden or a kitchen.

  His mother greeted him warmly. “Welcome, Son. We were about to prepare tea. Would you like a cup?”

  He removed his coat and hung it on a nearby peg, his gloves in his hat. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I brought some mint tea leaves. I thought it might come in handy for…” He went toward the fire and warmed his hands even though they weren’t cold. It was a tricky moment.

  Cassandra came in from the bedroom wearing an apron and looking more beautiful than he could imagine. His eyes went to the hint of a bump at her waist.

  “Gordon, we aren’t quite ready to receive visitors, but you are more than welcome.” Her smile seemed reserved.

  “I brought some other foodstuffs for you. They’re in the basket.” His mouth held a wicked grin.

  In the basket, she took the cinnamon, noted the full measure of milk, butter and flour, and raised her gaze to him.

  “Thought you’d like to bake a loaf. There’s preserves, too. Oh, cherries, Charlotte Russe, and Italian cakes. I remembered when last you tasted them they were a favorite.”

  If looks could kill, he might be dead. Yes, my dear, I won’t let you forget our intimacies and how you relished them.

  “I also see cookies for the children. How considerate of you,” she mentioned.

  God bless Cook. Of course, children liked cookies. He’d h
ave to thank her.

  Alfie asked a question, “Sir Uncle, since we live here now, we won’t be able to greet you in the morning. Will you miss us?”

  “We wouldn’t want Auntie to worry about you, but from time to time, I’ll receive you whenever you wish.”

  “It’s just not the same.” He pouted, and out of sight of Cassandra, he giggled.

  “It will have to do for the moment,” said the duke in all feigned piety.

  Alicia lamented, “I’ll miss your hugs when you take me in your chair and hold me. “Alfie’s right, it’s not the same. The puppies will grow up without us to care for them.”

  “Come here, Alicia. Climb on my lap and you can give me a long hug, for now all my loved ones are gone. What will I do?”

  Alfie said, “You mustn’t cry. Soldiers and dukes cannot. We must stand together as men.”

  Cassandra startled at his comment.

  Both children ran to him and the hugs were long. And teary amongst all.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Dowager returned home on the day of the King’s Ball so she could prepare for her “social” event. It made Althorn happy to see her in good spirits. Truth was he missed his mother more than she could imagine.

  “I do feel your visit to the cottage was successful, son. Cassandra plans to tell you tonight about the baby, but she’s not aware I will announce it to all my friends. Be prepared for congratulations, dear boy. With all of us in this conspiracy, Cassandra will see how much she is missed and loved.”

  She went to his side. “That business with the children was brilliant. I caught Cassandra as she watched from the window. I do believe she hoped you would visit again. Tonight, we’ll pick her up and the rest is up to you. Practice the words I love you in front of the mirror.”

  “Mother, you are a devious woman, and I do love you. That is easy to say.”

  “Be sure to say it to the mother of your child…show her. Cassandra is firm about this issue.”

  “I’ve sent the maid to the cottage with the dress you selected and the tiara. It would be appreciated if we all could have a pleasant evening together as a family. I go to dress now.” Lady Madelaine left the room for him to ponder his options.