"Ah, there you are, my boy," said the duke jovially. "Come here and say hello to your future parents-in-law. You know my lord and lady Redecombe, I believe."
Adam bowed abruptly. "We have met many times, sir. Welcome to Gravesmere House."
The earl stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Pleased to see you again, my boy. I can't tell you how happy we are to welcome you to the family."
Adam stiffened and glared at the earl from under his thick lashes. "Thank you, my lord." His voice was forbidding.
Redecombe appeared to be unfazed by Adam's evident hostility. "I am most pleased with this match, my boy. Allegra is a fine girl and will make you a happy man. You'll find her to be docile and gentle, just what you're looking for in a wife. She'll not give you any trouble."
Adam managed a brief, cold smile. It was increasingly apparent to Allegra that it was only by keeping the tightest rein on himself that he was managing to control his temper.
"And here is your bride," continued the earl, approaching Allegra and taking her hand. Flustered, she rose hastily to her feet, trying to shake out the folds of the pink dress that hung on her like a sack. She gazed up at her husband to be, her pale eyes pleading for some sort of sympathy or understanding.
Adam's green eyes filled with surprise and then shock as he took in his bride. Allegra was only too aware that the dress clashed with her red hair, and the pastel color drew whatever color she possessed out of her skin. She held herself awkwardly, trying to hide the embarrassment that swamped her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over.
Adam swung away from her and turned on his father, clearly too furious to think clearly. "Surely you are not going to marry me to this?" he demanded "She's as plain as can be! I'll be a laughingstock among my friends!"
The duke seized Adam by the arm and shook him roughly. "Do not embarrass me more than you already have, my boy!" he snapped. "You will marry Allegra and you will do it with a becoming air of grace."
Adam turned away with an angry exclamation. Allegra, her knees shaking slightly, was led to his side, and her cold little hand was placed in his. The clergyman approached, wreathed in smiles, and spoke the words of the wedding ceremony over them. Allegra could hear the fury in Adam's voice as he made his responses, and she could feel the tension in his body as he stood next to her. He hates me, she thought miserably, and who can blame him? She glanced at him and their eyes met briefly, but she detected no spark of interest or concern. Any hopes she had cherished of possibly striking up a friendship with her husband withered away. This marriage, it seemed, was doomed from the start.
Chapter 1
A Message from the Dowager
Servants roamed the card room of Madame de Sauvonville’s charming town house, replacing the candles for a third time that evening as they guttered due to the lateness of the hour. Adam, Duke of Gravesmere, tossed his cards on the green baize of the table, drained his glass of wine, and turned to his companion.
“I’ve had enough of cards, Roussier,” he drawled. “Let us adjourn to the salon and see what risqué entertainments La Sauvonville is providing this evening. “
“Half-naked whores as usual my dear Gravesmere,” his friend responded, but with a swirl of his claret satin coat skirts Roussier did as his English friend requested.
“It’s true that it won’t be new, but perhaps it will be novel.” Gravesmere smiled and strode out, his unpowdered head rising above those of the other gentlemen present. In the salon he glanced over the crowd of elegant noblemen, many of them accompanied by the ladies of the house, or masked ladies of Society who wished to enjoy daring yet private pleasures. At the front of the room two women, nearly unclothed, caressed each other in a way that much of the audience clearly found arousing.
“Somewhat shopworn, aren’t they?” he asked Roussier, as his eyes roved around the room. He stopped abruptly and smiled, his brilliant but somewhat jaded green eyes gleaming.
“Now there’s a fresh lass,” he remarked of a young woman serving wine. The neckline of her gown had rocketed past demure and daring to stop just past indecent, at the point where her corset lacings ended.
“Look at those tits!” exclaimed Roussier, “Sacre bleu, what is elevating them, how can a pair so big stand so proud?”
Gravesmere glanced in the girl’s direction again and smirked. “You could take snuff off them, I vow.”
Roussier raised an eyebrow. “Ten livres says that you can’t,” he replied.
“You’ll wager on it?” exclaimed Gravesmere, “How can I lose such a wager? The pleasure of trying will be worth ten livres even if I fail.” He beckoned to the maid, who hurried over, wine bottle in hand. Gravesmere waved it away.
“Set it down, wench,” he commanded, “and hold that remarkable chest high.”
The maid looked confused, but obeyed, and Gravesmere chuckled as he reached out and gently rolled both of the nipples displayed before him. They tightened and the maid’s very large, very firm breasts appeared to rise still higher above the non-existent neckline of her gown. He reached into the deep pocket of his elaborately gold-laced dark green coat, and extracted his snuffbox. He flipped it open with one carefully manicured thumb, and shook back the intricate lace ruffle that foamed over his right hand, then dipped a pinch delicately from the box and laid it atop the maid’s breast just behind her now erect nipple. A small crowd had gathered around them and with an air he bowed and then lowered his face to the maid’s breast and sniffed up the snuff, leaving not a speck on her skin. A laugh rose from the surrounding gentlemen.
Roussier shook his head and smiled. “Alack, I owe you ten livres, and the pleasure has been all yours, Gravesmere!”
Gravesmere grinned broadly. “I’ll pay the lady the 10 livres you owe me for the pleasure of doing the same on the other side.”
He cocked one eyebrow at the maid, who seemed well pleased to be paid so much for so little, and turned the other breast to him. Gravesmere carefully licked and then sucked the other nipple to the laughter of his audience and then ceremoniously deposited and sniffed off the snuff to the applause of the assembled company.
“I don’t think it will become the mode at Versailles,” murmured the Comte de MontVarnois to his neighbor as they watched, “but the Englishman does it with quite an air. Always something amusing to be seen with the mad English.” They departed along with the blushing maid, the ten livres, and the rest of the little crowd that had gathered.
“I’ve provided sufficient amusement to le tout Paris for one evening, Roussier.” Gravesmere declared. “I’m for home.” He swept out of the room without a backward glance for the debauched crowd.
Only slightly later, Gravesmere exited the sedan chair that had brought him back to his Paris town house, and entered the door, handing his tricorne hat, cape, and sword to the butler. “You may lock up and retire for the night, Mouset,” he said, and walked through the hall and up the stairs. He entered his dressing room and allowed his valet to disrobe him and envelop him in a sumptuous silk dressing gown.
Entering his bedchamber by the lingering firelight, he saw a woman in the pillow-strewn bed, her glossy black hair tumbled across the covers, while one perfect white breast peeked out from under the lace-trimmed sheet, the large nipple alluringly dusky. With a devilish smile he twitched the covers further aside, then leaned forward and kissed, and then suckled it firmly, watching with pleasure as it instantly puckered, growing hard with anticipation.
The woman's lids fluttered open, revealing eyes of a remarkable violet hue. A satisfied look crossed her face when she saw Adam gazing down at her, and she reached up with one delicate hand to stroke his cheek.
"Good evening, Your Grace," she murmured.
"Good evening Louisa." Adam lowered his finger to her breast, gently circling the taut bud.
She gave a tiny wriggle of anticipation, and he shed his coat and rolled onto the bed next to her.
"So late, Adam?"
"I c
an't get enough of you, love," he murmured. "The only thing better than Paris, is Paris with you."
"How can I repay you for such a charming compliment?" smiled Louisa, Lady Manning. Her hand slipped out from the sheets and opened his dressing gown until she could stroke his muscular abdomen. Adam groaned, and hastily removed his small clothes to embrace her under the silk coverlet.
Much later, as the early morning light dimly revealed the room, he heard a scratch at the door. Surprised that his valet should trouble him at such an hour, he reached for his robe and left the sleeping Louisa, to find that nervous-looking individual entering the room.
“Your pardon, milor’ but a messenger from Her Grace the Dowager Duchess of Gravesmere has just arrived, with a letter for you.” Berget kept his eyes averted from the bed, where Louisa’s naked body sprawled across the crumpled sheets.
“My dearest mother’s missives arrive frequently,” grumbled Adam. “Why must they interrupt my rest today?”
“The man was most urgent that you should read this letter immediately,” responded the valet.
“Well hand it to me then, man. How am I to read my mother’s dashed letter if I do not have it?” He whipped the envelope from Berget’s hand and tore it open, scanning the missive quickly. “You may go,” he snapped at Berget, who exited gratefully.
“Devil take it, Louisa, my mother demands my return; she says the bailiffs and stewards need more supervision, and that I have waited long enough since my father’s death to return home to take control of Gravesmere and the other properties.” Adam sat down heavily on the bed.
Louisa roused herself, and pinned a troubled expression to her lovely face. “How unfortunate Adam,” she murmured, “I’m sure you’ll wish to send a reply back to Her Grace with the messenger. I’ll await your pleasure,” she smirked slightly, “in my own room. I hope you’ll join me soon.”
Adam gave her the slightest smile and a lascivious glance at this sally. “I’ll see you as soon as I write the reply, and see her man off.”
Louisa pulled on Adam’s brocaded dressing gown, and sauntered through the door into her own adjoining boudoir, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure that he noted the seductive swaying of her hips. In her own room, she rushed to inspect herself in the mirror, admiring the thick dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, and her creamy complexion, satisfied that even after a late night, she looked fresh, and only the tiniest of lines could be seen at the corners of her eyes. Invisible, really, she assured herself.
Adam dressed hastily and went down to the library, where a headache gathered behind his brows as he composed a terse reply to his mother’s missive, indicating that he would return in a few weeks, once he had closed the Paris house, and prepared to move his household. Feeling somewhat better when these details had been communicated and he had consumed a hearty breakfast and a great deal of tea, Adam consigned the concerns of his estates to the back of his mind once again. He was far more worried that the next thing he would have to do was inform Louisa that their charming connection would have to terminate immediately. He grimaced; he fancied himself in love with Louisa, and did not in the least enjoy feminine tears.
Upstairs in her room, the thought that Adam’s plans for a return to England might not include her had already occurred to Louisa. However, she also knew the story of the forced marriage, and pale, unattractive bride, and was aware that he was not looking forward to his reunion with her. She pulled hard on the bell pull as she pondered her options. “Quick, girl” she snapped as her maid entered. “Find my white corset, the one embroidered with roses and trimmed with Bruges lace. And bring me the silk stockings with butterfly clocks, and my lilac silk garters.” When the requested items appeared, Louisa dropped the dressing gown so the maid could lace the corset on her. “Tighter, if you please, Margot. His Grace loves my tiny waist.” As the corset tightened, her lush breasts formed inviting mounds above the laced trimmed half cups, and the deep pink aureoles peeked from the froth of lace, her nipples barely restrained.
“Here are your drawers Milady.” The maid offered a pair of dainty linen drawers trimmed with lace at the knees.
“No drawers, Margot,” Louisa smiled slyly. “I want a special effect for His Grace. Put the stockings on me and the garters and fetch the silver shoes, the ones with the purple crystals on the heels and the diamond trimmed buckles.” The maid raised her eyebrows, but did as she was bid. A good while later Louisa was examining her figure in her full mirror, wearing the gleaming corset, stockings, garters, high heels and nothing else.
“It will do very well, Margot, very well indeed. Bring me the dark blue silk sac, the one with the heavily flounced collar. Don’t bother with the underdress.” Once arrayed in the dark blue overdress, which Louisa left unfastened, the maid brushed her mistress’s dark curls, and threaded a simple blue ribbon through them.
“Away with you, I will await His Grace’s pleasure alone.” Lady Manning surveyed herself in the mirror with a catlike smile and adjusted the dress just slightly, so as to achieve the most alluring effect.
Her wait was not lengthy. Louisa had just enough time to arrange herself demurely on the damask covered chaise in front of the bedroom window, drape her blue silk gown over the sparkling heels of her shoes, and pick up a book to pretend to read. The daylight, filtered through gauzy curtains, was kind to her complexion, and when the duke entered the room he stopped short to admire the results of her efforts.
Louisa patted the foot of the long chaise welcomingly. “Your Grace,” she said, “Do sit down and be at ease, this must have been a very difficult morning for you.”
Adam sat at her feet as she had indicated and rubbed his neck. “It has been the devil of a morning,” he said. “So many details are involved in closing this house and moving the goods that must come with me to England, along with much of the staff.”
“Alas, the burdens you must assume will be heavy, so much business to be dealt with it seems.” said Lady Manning as she arranged her features into an expression of tender sympathy. She reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek, then gently stroked his firmly cut lips, before placing her palm on his chest and unbuttoning his shirt to touch the skin. “When must you leave here?”
Adam groaned as she moved forward and kissed him.
“As soon as reasonably may be; a matter of a few weeks, perhaps,” he replied. He reached a hand out to the flounced neckline of her blue silk wrapper, and slid it open. Beneath it Louisa’s breasts rose from the silk half cups of her corsets, nipples erect and protruding from their nest of lace. The silvery embroidery made the light dance across her narrow waist, and Adam, abandoning their conversation moved his hand still lower, opening the gown completely. His gaze followed his hand, and when he saw her bare legs below the corset, with the lilac garters circling her thighs and the silk stockings, he smiled. Louisa stretched her legs, and parted them just a little, and the diamond buckles on her shoes sparkled in the light. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he murmured.
Louisa lowered her eyes to hide their triumphant gleam, but said nothing. Adam drew her up from the chaise, and pulled her stand with him before the mirror in which she had admired her reflection only a few minutes earlier. He slipped the blue gown off her shoulders and left it in a pool on the floor, and pulled off his jacket and partially unbuttoned shirt.
Standing behind her, he stroked her swelling breasts, and watched her in the mirror as her nipples firmed and lifted still more. He let his hand drift down the shining embroidery of her corset, and past it to caress the curls peeking out below it, as Louisa watched their conjoined images with him. She moaned slightly, and spread her legs just a little to give him better access. His hand slipped still lower, and he spread her tender flesh and felt the gathering moisture there, watching his strong brown fingers enter her, and the contrast between his muscular hands and the delicate satin garters and silken stockings that covered her legs.
“Why must I leave you for a whey faced virgi
n?” he burst out angrily.
“Need I leave you, Adam?” Louisa asked huskily. “You have no interest in her, beyond eventually getting an heir. Why should our joy be tainted by such worries?” She gazed at his reflection, catching his eyes there, and then turned, to sink to her knees before him. The amethyst covered heels of her shoes winked and glittered in the light, and Adam caught his breath at the sight in the mirror of her long black curls tumbling towards the lush behind that emerged below the tight-laced corset.
Louisa was busy with his buttons, and soon had his breeches open, and she reached inside to caress his rock hard erection with eagerness. "I must admit that I do not have much to return to in England, but if you are there, your presence will change all that."
Adam drew in his breath as her skilled fingers moved over him. "I have been avoiding this day for four years now, and I can hardly believe that it has actually come upon me."
"But you will be happy to be back in England with your family and friends, at least, and your own master, even if the estates require some attention," responded Louisa, her voice gently mournful. She slipped her fingers farther between his legs to gently lift his heavy sac, then looked up at him and licked her lips as she watched the passion rise in his eyes. “Perhaps you will be able to forget me there,” she cooed.
"I would happily shun England's shores the rest of my life if I could avoid the fate that awaits me," promised Adam fervently, his body clenching in reaction to her touch.
“Let us not consider such dull topics any longer,” Louisa murmured. “We have better games to play, and this may be one of our last chances to enjoy them.” She opened her mouth and took him inside it, her lips stretching wide over the engorged head, as she licked and sucked. Adam groaned, his muscles clenching to control his pleasure as he watched in the looking glass.
A Duchess Enraged Page 2
