The Decadent Duke

by Virginia Henley

  “Never! She was far too good and pious.”

  “Georgy would prefer to be someone wicked like Anne Boleyn,” her brother jested.

  “I would never portray any of King Henry VIII’s wives. I’d have more good sense than to wed a womanizing swine!”

  “Then why don’t you be Diana of the hunt?”

  Georgina’s eyes glittered with mischief. "“By God, I’ll do it! I’ll need a bow and some arrows. I already have the gold paint.”

  “Here’s an envelope from the Manchesters. An invitation, no doubt.” John handed Francis the post that had arrived at Woburn.

  “I’ve been expecting this. It’s been delayed because it was first delivered to Russell Square before it was forwarded on.” Bedford opened the invitation. “Damnation, it’s to be held on the twentieth, but I’m invited to stay from the day before until the day after the masquerade ball. What’s today’s date?” John looked at the newspaper. “It’s the eighteenth.”

  “Christ, they are expecting me tomorrow.”

  The thought of Francis spending three days in the company of the alluring Lady Georgina filled John with dismay.

  “Send your regrets. Mr. Burke will have a servant deliver it tonight. Kimbolton is only a dozen miles from Woburn.”

  “Regrets? Are you mad? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Their weekend entertainments are legend. After visiting the Devonshires’ mausoleum of Chatsworth, Kimbolton Castle will feel like I’ve been resurrected. Oh, sorry, John, ignore my allusions to death.” Francis apologized with the sincerity of a hedonist. “I’ll be back late on the twenty-first. You won’t mind putting off your trip to Tavistock until I return, will you, old man?”

  “Of course not.” John amended his itinerary. “My plans aren’t set in stone. It will give me a chance to spend more of the Yule holidays with young Francis and William.v

  “I’ll need a costume for the masquerade. What do you suggest?”

  “Casanova, perhaps?”

  “You have a dry wit, John. Often, I don’t know if you’re serious or jesting. But your suggestion has merit. As a connoisseur of fine fashion, food, wine, and women, I have much in common with Giacomo.”

  You are absolutely right, Francis. You don’t know when I’m serious or when I’m jesting.

  “I have that fabulous gold brocade coat I had made in Venice. Casanova wore his own long black hair powdered and scented, as I shall do. All I need is that golden Venetian mask I brought back and a dueling pistol, and my disguise is complete.”

  “None will recognize you,” John said without a hint of sarcasm.

  “Casanova was a womanizer who used charm, guile, intimidation, and aggression to conquer women.v Francis winked. “As I said, we’ve much in common.”

  “He often left behind children and debt.”

  Francis laughed. “Well, mea culpa on the bastards, but I have never left a debt unpaid.v He glanced at the clock. “Christ, I’ll never be ready to leave in the morning.”

  “Mr. Burke will organize everything and pack whatever you need. I hope you realize how fortunate you are to have him as steward.”

  “Au contraire. He’s fortunate to have me as master.”

  You could be jesting, but I’d bet a pound to a pinch of shit you are serious, Francis.

  “I’ve just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t you come to Kimbolton and attend the Manchesters’ masquerade on the night of the twentieth? I know you are technically in mourning, but if you are masked and costumed, none will recognize you.”

  “Brilliant indeed,v John said dryly. “Don’t waste your evening trying to find me.v

  “Not bloody likely! The irresistible Lady Georgina will occupy my evening. When I compare her to the Devonshires’ daughter, I cannot believe I entertained the idea of a match with the gauche little mouse.”

  John stiffened. “I’ll let you get on with your packing. The boys were having a game of chess before bed. I’ll go and check on them. If I don’t see you in the morning, enjoy rubbing elbows with the Gordons. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “I intend to rub more than elbows,” Francis said with a leer. “Masquerades are blatant excuses for dalliance. I warrant I’ll be able to collect on my wager with Prince Edward.v

  With difficulty, John held on to his temper. He suspected the wager was about Georgina, and it was all he could do to control his vicious desire to smash his brother in the face. As he climbed the stairs he thought, Francis has me pegged right—privately, I’m only technically mourning Elizabeth. My secret thoughts about Georgina Gordon would shame the devil himself.

  John found William and Francis playing cards and tried not to censure them. “What happened to the chess?”

  “Johnny beats us every time,” Francis declared. “The little pissant is too clever by half.”

  “What card game are you playing?”

  “Lanterloo—Uncle Francis taught us how to play. The game isn’t much fun with only two. Would you join us, Father?”

  “I don’t really like you to game. Do you do it at school?”

  His sons looked at each other guiltily.

  “Go on, deal the cards. I’ll play one game with you.” John picked up his cards and put a guinea in the pot. He knew each son had only a couple of guineas’ pocket money. When they bet all they had, John took the final two tricks and pocketed their money.

  “It’s not really the gaming I disapprove of. It’s the betting. Good night, boys.”

  He went into Johnny’s room and found him in bed reading. “I hear you soundly trounced your brothers at chess.”

  “I couldn’t believe it—both of them made terrible blunders with their rooks.”

  John smiled knowingly. “While they are thinking of attacks, you are thinking of planning attacks. By the way, our plans have changed. We won’t be going to Tavistock until December twenty-second.”

  “I’m looking forward to our journey to Devon.”

  “So am I. Good night, Johnny. Don’t burn the midnight oil too much longer.”

  “You’re a wretched tease, Georgy. We invite Bedford so you can get to know each other better, and you deliberately make yourself scarce when you were supposed to be in the great hall to receive him,” Susan complained.

  “He arrived early—obviously panting to get a glimpse of me.”

  “You’re a shameless hussy. Since Kimbolton stands at the head of the fen country, William has arranged a hunt.”

  “I shall decline. The fens are open to the winter winds.”

  “The winds are in March. This is only December. Get into your riding habit or I shall set the bloody dogs on you, Georgy. Three days of entertainment have been planned solely for your benefit, so you had better cooperate, Mistress Contrary.”

  “Since you ask so sweetly, how can I possibly resist?”It will give me the chance to show off my new apricot velvet habit.

  Georgina took her time dressing for the hunt. After she pulled on her long black riding boots, she donned a saucy hat, which sported a black ostrich feather that curled under her chin. She picked up her sketch pad and some charcoal, then slowly descended the magnificent staircase that led down to the great hall.

  “We almost left without you,” her brother, Huntly, declared.

  She glanced over at Francis Russell, who was finishing off a stirrup cup. “I would have been devastated.”

  Bedford set down his empty drinking vessel. “You make a most arresting entrance, descending the stairs.” He noticed the pad of paper she carried. “Do you sketch, Lady Georgina?”

  “Among other things,vshe replied in a suggestive voice. “I’m particularly good at capturing wildlife.”

  “Man or beast?” he drawled.

  “I intend to sketch a fen waterfowl. A far more civilized endeavor than hunting and killing them, don’t you think, sir?”

  “I never professed to be civilized,” Francis taunted.

  “At least you are honest.”

  “Brutally.”

&nb
sp; The swine likes to have the last word. I’ve noticed it runs in the family. Georgina chided herself for thinking about John. She gave Francis a radiant smile. “Shall we go, Your Grace, before Susan and William start frothing at the mouth?”

  Together they walked toward the stables, where the hunting party and their attendants were gathered in the courtyard. Bedford helped her to mount, and they walked their horses through the rustling carpet of leaves that lay beneath the great bare elms. They followed the other riders through the gateway in the wall and across the castle’s double ditch. The duke glanced back at Kimbolton. “It has a grand feudal air about it.”

  “It was built as a stronghold, guarding the road from Bedford to Huntingdon. Bedford inhabitants must have posed a threat.”

  “We still do,” he promised.

  “Forewarned is forearmed,” she replied, refusing to let him have the last word. She urged her horse into a gallop, passing Susan and her groom, and caught up to William and George.

  The fen reeds were dry and the dogs raced ahead, flushing a covey of marsh ducks. They quacked their protest at being rudely disturbed, and a couple fell to the hunters’ guns.

  Georgina drew rein and held her mount in check until everyone in the party rode past her, including Francis Russell. Then she doubled back and led her horse in a different direction, where she anticipated being alone to observe nature.

  In a quiet spot, she dismounted and slowly made her way toward the edge of a saltwater pool. She pulled up her velvet skirts and knelt down so that she could sketch a green heron as it fished.

  She caught her breath as it elongated its neck to catch a frog, then sighed with relief when it missed. In a heartbeat the heron caught a small fish instead, and tossed it so that it could swallow it lengthwise. She knew the bird had to hunt for food from dawn to dusk to sustain itself.

  She sketched the heron quickly, catching the determined look in its beady yellow eye. She drew the fish in its beak and the tiny drops of saltwater that dripped from its tail. She even put in the frog as it frantically swam away.

  Georgina was so engrossed in her drawing that she was startled when the heron took wing with a plaintive cry. She looked up, found Francis Russell at her side, and smiled her secret smile. Deep down inside she had expected him to seek her out.

  He looked at her sketch. “You are an accomplished artist.”

  “Why does that astonish you? Because I’m a debutante, fit for only flirting and fu . . . fumbling?”

  Christ, she was about to say fucking! “Mea culpa. You have hidden depths, Georgina.”

  “You may address me as Lady Georgina.”

  “A misnomer if I ever heard one,vhe drawled.

  She held out her hand, and when he helped her to rise, she managed to display the entire length of her leather riding boots. “Oh, sorry, Francis, my hands are covered with charcoal. I’ve blackened you. Your hands now match your reputation,” she teased.

  He bent and washed them off in the water, then took his handkerchief, wet it, and cleansed her hands. He took a step closer and traced a finger down the black feather that curled beneath her chin.

  “If you don’t think lady is suitable, what do you suggest?”

  “Cocktease.”

  Georgina gasped and raised her arm to slap his insolent face.

  The duke caught her hand, forced it behind her back, and pulled her against him for a kiss.

  She laughed in his face. “I’ve never heard that word before, though I know it is lewd in the extreme. But you are right. I was teasing you. Unmercifully.”

  He released her immediately, knowing that she was laughing at him. You flirted, and like a besotted fool, I fumbled. Just as you expected me to do. Just as you lured me to do. But in truth, I couldn’t help myself. You are a bloody irresistible piece of female flesh.

  At dinner, Susan seated the Duke of Bedford next to Georgina. Through the first three courses, Francis found it difficult to keep his hands from straying. Used to giving in to his impulses, especially where women were concerned, and knowing full well that the lady was not likely to cause a scene involving the guest of honor, he finally succumbed to temptation and surreptitiously stroked his fingers along the thigh that was so close to his own.

  Georgina smiled sweetly at her dinner partner and, under cover of her linen napkin, jabbed her dessert fork into his hand.

  Francis turned his cry of pain into a bark of laughter, ostensibly at some amusing remark Huntly made.

  “Stab me! That was witty, George.” Georgina laughed merrily. “I think a sense of humor is a very seductive quality in a man.”

  The Duchess of Gordon bestowed a fatuous look of approval upon her youngest daughter. “My husband, Alexander, has rather a dour, Scottish sense of humor. He thoroughly disapproves of fun and frolic. Fortunately, my daughters take after their mother.”

  Georgina rolled her eyes at Francis, and this time his laugh was genuine. She joined in. “I shall be generous and forgive you your trespasses.” In a pig’s eye!

  After dinner, the company moved to the gaming room, where everyone except Georgina chose Scotch whiskey to drink. “I much prefer champagne,vshe informed Francis.

  “I shall remember when you come to Woburn.”

  “Shall I be coming to Woburn?”

  “Indeed you shall.”

  “I advised William to set up a table for lanterloo,” Jane Gordon informed their guest. “I know you are expert at it.”

  “I much prefer faro,” Georgina interjected. “Surely you will indulge me, Francis?” She pretended not to see the glare of disapproval her mother directed her way. “Since you are the player most likely to put up the largest stake, you can be the permanent banker, Your Grace.”

  Francis bowed to the company. “If all are in agreement?”

  “Oh, we always indulge Georgy’s whims,”Susan informed him.

  “I adore being a pampered pet,” Georgina murmured wickedly.

  They all sat around one large gaming table, and when William laid out the complete spade suit, Georgina decided to be contrary once more. “I don’t like spades. Let’s use hearts’”—she glanced at Francis—“or perhaps diamonds? I can never decide which I like better. I’ll let the banker decide.”

  “I think diamonds would suit you best.”

  Though it sounded like a compliment, she knew it was a sly jab because she’d told him it was the manse rather than the man that attracted her. If he’s hinting that I can have the house if I’ll take him as spouse, I’m not even tempted.

  They played for two hours, and when she ran out of chips, she played for favors. “I know a gentleman would never collect gambling debts from a lady,” she said without conviction. She ran the tip of her tongue around the rim of her champagne glass. “I’ve had enough wine, and more than enough cards. Now that Kimbolton’s galleries are shrouded in shadow, I shall go and seek the shade of Queen Katherine.”

  “Oh, darling, it’s frightening up there,” her mother warned. “You need an escort with a strong sword arm to protect you.”

  “Would you do the honors, Your Grace?” Georgina asked with a straight face.

  Up in the darkened, eerie galleries, she made a game out of being elusive. Bedford was persistent in his pursuit. “You always manage to track me down like a hound with the scent of his prey.”

  His arms went around her, and he pulled her against his body so she could feel his hard erection. “See what you do to me?”

  “Is that the result of any female scent, or one in particular?”

  “It’s not just your fragrance that entrances me, vixen, it’s your essence. You are an exciting female, and you are well aware of it.” He captured her lips, and halfway through the kiss he intruded his tongue into her mouth.

  “I thought a gentleman never collected gambling debts from a lady,” she teased.

  “I’m not a gentleman.”

  She pulled away, laughing. “So your brother informed me.”

  “That isn’t
the first time you’ve mentioned my brother.”

  “We are like flint and tinder. He rubs me the wrong way.”

  Francis promptly rubbed his erection against her mons. She pulled away. “There’s no need to cock your weapon—the ghost isn’t here tonight. Shall we return to the party?” She adroitly escaped his advances, knowing he would follow wherever she led.

  Sometime later the ladies went upstairs and left the men to their whiskey and cigars.

  Jane kissed her daughters’ cheeks. “Susan, you have done an outstanding job of providing this golden opportunity for Georgy.” She squeezed her youngest daughter’s hand. “And I am over the moon that you are making the most of it. Good night, girls.”

  Ten minutes later, Georgina entered her sister Susan’s chamber. She sat down on the bed, opened the book she was carrying, and began to read a speech by the Duchess of Belgrave.

  “The town must be carried by storm. While such cold calculators as the Duchess of Drinkwater, with all the frigid economy of her native north, are collecting a little money and a few forces to meet us, reckoning upon our weakness, we must by a display of unbounded magnificence, taste, and expense, at once overwhelm their puny preparations and strike a blow that shall palsy every effort of our rivals for the remainder of the Season . . . I am decidedly for a grand masked gala.’’

  The two sisters were helpless with laughter, with tears of mirth streaming down their cheeks, when William opened the bedchamber door.

  “What’s so funny, m’dear?’’

  “Men!” they replied in unison, and went off into another peel of uncontrollable laughter.

  Chapter 17

  “Mr. Burke, I had the idea to take my sons into the woods and select a Christmas tree for Woburn’s great hall. But if Francis enjoys doing this himself, we will wait until he returns.”

  “His Grace never takes part in choosing a tree or putting up the Yule decorations. He leaves it to his staff and me. Since I decided we’d do that today, our plans mesh perfectly, my lord.”