The Duchess

by Bertrice Small

  They arrived at the King Street assembly rooms and were admitted by the concierge, who greeted them by name, bowing as he did so. Once inside they found seats, and sat waiting for the ball to begin. Lord Morgan hurried off to find the gambling. The Marquess of Rowley and his wife arrived, and approached Lady Abbott.

  “Sirena, darling! Such wonderful news!” Charlotte gushed. “Have you decided upon a date?”

  “Lower your voice, Charlotte,” Lady Abbott said angrily. “There has not yet been a formal announcement. You will embarrass us all.”

  “I have not yet thought about a wedding date,” Sirena said softly. “I suppose Ocky and I should discuss it as we have his father’s approval.”

  “June!” Charlotte enthused. “You will make the most divine June bride, Sirena. At St. George’s in Hanover Square, of course. Gussie and I will host a wedding breakfast at the house for you afterward.”

  “If Sirena decides upon June,” Lady Abbott said, “I am certain Septimius will have the wedding breakfast. After all, dear, his home is better suited to such an affair than your tiny house.”

  The smile disappeared from Charlotte’s face. She turned to Allegra. “Still no luck, Miss Morgan?” she murmured with false sympathy. “Well, they do say that money cannot buy everything.”

  Allegra laughed. “Do not be ridiculous, Lady Charlotte. Of course it can. By season’s end I quite expect to be betrothed.” She smiled sweetly at her cousin’s wife.

  “I cannot imagine to whom,” Charlotte said softly.

  “Good evening, Lady Abbott, Lady Sirena, Miss Morgan,” the Duke of Sedgwick said. “Gussie, Lady Charlotte.” He bowed elegantly.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” they all chorused but Allegra. She was far too busy really looking for the first time at the man she was to marry. Impressive, she decided silently, but a snob.

  “I understand from my friend, Viscount Pickford, that congratulations are in order, Lady Sirena.”

  Sirena blushed becomingly and half whispered, “Yes, Your Grace.” She looked about. “Is not Ocky with you?”

  “But a few steps behind, Lady Sirena,” the duke assured her. Then he turned to Allegra. “Miss Morgan, if you will allow me.” He took her dance card from her, and wrote his name in the first and last slots with the tiny quill provided. “And you will, of course, allow me to escort you into supper afterward.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Allegra replied meekly, and she curtsied.

  He looked sharply at her, and seeing the deviltry in her violet eyes, laughed. Taking her hand up he kissed it, then bowed, and walked away.

  “Well,” Charlotte said meanly, “I’m not surprised that a man like that would be paying Miss Morgan attention.” She sniffed audibly.

  “Like what, madame?” Allegra responded in icy tones.

  “Well, my dear Miss Morgan, the man hasn’t a ha’penny to his name. Everyone knows that. He only pays you court because of your father’s wealth. Surely you harbor no girlish illusions about him. For all his pretensions I think him rather rough looking. Not at all handsome or refined. They say he lives in one room, for the rest of his house is falling down about him.”

  “But a rich wife would certainly correct that situation for him, don’t you think, madame?” Allegra said sweetly.

  “He would marry you for your wealth, if indeed he could even bring himself to make such an alliance,” Charlotte went on.

  “And I will marry for the grandest title I can obtain in exchange for my father’s wealth,” Allegra replied.

  “To say such a thing is most indelicate and ungenteel,” Charlotte responded, shocked by Allegra’s frankness.

  “Nonsense, madame! Did you not marry my cousin Gussie for his title? After all, a marquess certainly outranks your papa. As the Marchioness of Rowley you outrank your mama, your sister-in-law, and your sisters. What a coup your marriage was for you. Why should I not contract an alliance offering me similar advantages?” Allegra smiled.

  Sirena stared openmouthed at her cousin’s forthrightness. Lady Abbott was considering swooning. Charlotte had finally been rendered speechless, and the Marquess of Rowley burst out laughing.

  “What is so funny?” Viscount Pickford inquired as he joined them.

  “Allegra has just given my wife a most proper dressing-down,” Gussie answered him plainly. “Too confusing to explain. Ahh, the musicians are tuning up. We’ll be dancing soon enough. Congratulations, my dear Ocky, and you most certainly have my blessings. My little sister will make you a splendid wife. You’ll be good to her, I know.”

  “I will, Gussie,” Viscount Pickford assured his future brother-in-law. “I will.”

  The strains of the minuet began, and the Duke of Sedgwick was suddenly there, taking Allegra’s hand to lead her off into the figure. They danced well together, but silently. Charlotte was wrong, Allegra considered to herself. Quinton Hunter was extremely handsome, and then realizing he was looking at her, she lowered her gaze. Wealth and beauty, he thought to himself as they danced. It was certainly a better fate than he had anticipated. And he would be able to buy his horses back.

  As he led her back to her aunt, he said softly, “Your father has spoken to you, Miss Morgan?”

  “He has, and under the circumstances I think you are permitted to call me by my Christian name,” Allegra responded.

  “I shall come for you at supper, Allegra,” he told her. Then he bowed, and turned away.

  She danced with a succession of young men, most of whom mouthed inanities at her in an effort to gain her favor. She smiled at some, ignored others. She was suddenly impatient to know more about this man she was suddenly told she was to marry. She almost cheered when the midnight interval came and the Duke of Sedgwick returned to claim her company. “I want nothing more than a lemonade,” she told him. “The lemonade is passable.”

  “The wine is not,” he replied dryly, “but we drink it anyhow.”

  The refreshments obtained, they repaired to a secluded bench in a small alcove. Seated, Allegra took the silver cup of lemonade from his hand, and invited him to sit also. They each sipped their cups in relative silence, and then he finally spoke.

  “Are you content to be the Duchess of Sedgwick, Allegra?”

  “If you are content to have me be,” she replied.

  “You are practical,” he said. Or was she cold, he wondered?

  Allegra sighed. “My father loved my mother. She wed him only for his money, and then one day she did fall in love. She ran away, leaving him, my brother, and me. I do not remember her, although my brother did. He said she was very beautiful, but cold. It was from my father I learned about love, but his love is that of a parent for his child. I know nothing of the love a man and a woman share. I have been told my whole life that while my mother’s behavior was shocking and quite unforgivable, it was out of the ordinary. I have been told that marriages are arranged between families for the purpose of bettering each family involved.

  “In our case you will marry me for my money, and the great inheritance my father will bequeath upon me one day. I will marry you because you will elevate me socially. The reasoning behind our match is sensible and pragmatic. Unlike my mother, I like children, and shall be happy to bear them for you. I will respect you as my husband, and be faithful always. Deceit is not in my nature, Your Grace.”

  He was astounded by her candid words. She had been honest with him to a fault, and he could be no less so with her. “I come,” he said, “from a family of romantic men and women. My father, my grandfather, my antecedents before them, all married for love, and were very happy. Sadly, however, the men in my family were also unrepentant gamblers. Worse, when they lost the women they loved through death, they drank. I have one of the oldest names in England, and certainly it is said of me, the bluest blood. But, Allegra, I haven’t a shilling to my name. I am taking a wife to restore my family’s fortunes. I had to sell two of my best breeding mares in order to afford my sortie into London this season. I am indeed mar
rying you for your wealth, but I promise you that I will be a good husband to you. I am no tyrant.”

  “Then, Your Grace, we understand each other perfectly,” Allegra replied. She took a sip of her lemonade for her throat was dry with a nervousness she hid well.

  “My name is Quinton,” he said quietly.

  “Quinton,” she responded softly.

  A shiver rippled down his back, at once both startling and confusing.

  “I thought,” Allegra continued, “that we might be married in the autumn; but with your permission I shall come to Hunter’s Lair this summer to oversee its renovations. If we are wed in early October, we can be prepared to host your friends in November at a hunt.”

  “How do you know we hunt?” he asked her.

  “Everyone knows that Hunter’s Lair, despite being in Hereford, is famous for its hunting. I do not hunt, however. I dislike killing animals, Quinton, so while I will see to our guests and their other entertainments, I will not go careening about the countryside chasing after some poor fox or deer, while clinging to a horse in a voluminous skirt. When I ride, I do so in breeches. I hope you are not shocked. Aunt Olympia claims that gentlemen are shocked by ladies astride.”

  “Do you have pretty legs, Allegra?” he asked teasingly.

  “You shall be the judge of that eventually, Quinton,” she answered pertly, “but whether I do or not, I will still ride astride.”

  He was forced to laugh. “You are very forthright,” he told her.

  “I do not know how to be any other way,” she said.

  “Good,” he replied. “Then we shall have no secrets from each other, Allegra. Tell me about Rupert Tanner.”

  “We grew up together,” she responded, surprised by the question.

  “He says he wants to marry you,” the duke said.

  “Oh, that is his papa’s idea,” Allegra told the duke with a small smile. “He is a second son. When my papa said I had to come to London to find a husband, Rupert and I decided we would tell Papa we wanted to wed. That way I should be married to someone I knew, and wouldn’t have to leave my home. Of course his papa was delighted by such a suggestion, while mine was not. I do not love Rupert, nor does he love me. There was no arrangement between us, formal, or informal,” Allegra finished.

  “Then your father may announce our betrothal at your ball in two weeks’ time. You are to be presented at court next week, I am told,” the duke said to her.

  “Yes. I have to wear that awful dress with its huge hoop, and that absurd headdress. I shall be decked out in diamonds and other magnificent jewels like some pagan idol, I fear. I don’t dare eat or drink a thing for hours before. It is, I have been told, impossible to use the necessary in such a garment. Is the old king really worth such effort, Quinton?”

  “Your cousin will be with you, and as my future wife it is most important you make your debut before King George and Queen Charlotte,” the duke responded quietly.

  “But no one will know until my ball that we are to be wed,” Allegra sighed. “I don’t want to tell anyone so Sirena may have her day in the sun with Ocky. We both know any mention of our betrothal would overshadow them greatly, and I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “I agree,” the duke replied, thinking that this girl for all her pride and wealth had a kind heart. He felt strangely relieved by the knowledge. They would, he decided, get on very well. “When will you come to Hunter’s Lair?” he asked.

  “I must go home first, but I should be able to come in early July. As I realize you will hardly be ready to host guests, I shall come with only my maid, Honor. There will be a certain amount of gossip about it, I am sure, but as our engagement will have already been announced and our wedding date set, I will not mind, if you do not.”

  “You are a sensible girl,” he complimented her. Then taking her hand in his he looked into the violet eyes. “As I have your father’s permission, Allegra, now I ask yours. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, Quinton, I will,” she responded quietly, happy he could not know how quickly her heart was beating. “I will be honored to be your wife.”

  Chapter Four

  On the night of the thirty-first of May every tree in Berkley Square was festooned with paper lanterns that glittered and lit up the area, making it a fairyland. Carriage after carriage slowly entered the square from the side streets, each waiting its turn to disembark its passengers before Lord Septimius Morgan’s house. Once at their destination Lord Morgan’s guests were greeted and helped from their vehicles by a seemingly endless stream of black and silver liveried footmen. A stately butler welcomed them at the door to the house as they entered. More footmen ushered them to the second floor where the ladies were invited to freshen themselves in a large windowed cloakroom with several screened necessaries, while the gentlemen in their separate facility did the same. There was much approval of this disposition for usually the sanitary arrangements were set in the corners of the ballroom behind their painted screens, and by evening’s end the chamber stank.

  Exiting the cloakrooms the guests were guided to the ballroom. They greeted their host and his daughter at its entrance, and were then announced to the company by a barrel-chested majordomo whose stentorian voice echoed throughout the entire area. Moving down two steps they entered Lord Morgan’s ballroom into a crowd of London’s most fashionable denizens.

  No one had refused the invitation to Miss Morgan’s ball. Prinny was coming, and just a few days ago a fascinating rumor had begun making the rounds that Miss Morgan’s betrothal would be announced tonight, although to whom, no one had the faintest idea. She was always seen in the company of her cousin, Lady Sirena Abbott, Viscount Pickford, and their friends. She certainly hadn’t seemed to have favored any one gentleman. It was a mystery, if indeed the rumor was even true.

  Lady Bellingham sat smugly in her most fashionable silver and midnight blue ballgown. She and her husband had been the only invited guests to the dinner that preceded the ball. Of course the Dowager Marchioness of Rowley, her daughter, Viscount Pickford, the Marquess of Rowley, and his silly wife were there, but they were family. And then there had been the Duke of Sedgwick. Her interest was immediately engaged for she, too, had heard the rumors swirling about Allegra Morgan.

  “Septimius?” she demanded questioningly. Her look went to Quinton Hunter, and then back again to her host.

  “You will be the first to know, Clarice,” he said softly, a twinkle in his eye. “Not even the family has been told yet. This dinner is for that purpose. Are you pleased?”

  “Indeed I am,” Lady Bellingham said. “Quinton’s mother was my cousin, Vanessa Tarleton. She was the eldest daughter of the Marquess of Rufford. Had a dowry that would have embarrassed a farmer’s gel, but of course Charles Hunter fell in love with her. She was a lovely creature. Died when Quinton was eleven, and his brother, George, six. She gave birth to a tiny girl, and then gave up the ghost. The child died several hours later. It was buried in her arms. A great tragedy. Charles drank himself to death after he had gambled away what little he had left. Old Rufford saw his grandsons were educated, but it was a strain on his finances, and most of his own estate was entailed upon his eldest son and heir. My mother was Rufford’s younger sister. Quinton is a very proud man, but he is honorable, Septimius.”

  “So I have gathered by his conduct towards Allegra, Clarice. He has behaved with the utmost delicacy and kindness. Allegra would never admit to it, of course, but she is very concerned about doing the right thing once she is the Duchess of Sedgwick.”

  “Nothing the matter with your gel, Septimius. She will do very well, and I can promise you she is going to be an outstanding duchess,” Lady Bellingham said with a reassuring smile. “What a coup, Septimius! All of London will be talking about it come tomorrow.” She chuckled.

  Clarice Bellingham smiled a smugly satisfied smile as she looked out over the ballroom. Oh yes, they would all be mightily surprised by Miss Morgan’s catch. There would be some, of course, who would
sneer that it was her money, and indeed it was. Her money, and his title. But Allegra Morgan would be a duchess. Wife to the man with the bluest blood in all of England. Without much hope Quinton had come to London seeking a wife; and by God he had landed the prize of this or any other season. And his friends had not done so badly either. Young Pickford and sweet Sirena. The Earl of Aston who had found a wife in the current Marquess of Rufford’s middle daughter, Eunice; and Lord Walworth, who to his surprise, had been snapped up by her own niece, Caroline Bellingham. Oh, yes, it had indeed been a most successful season!

  The orchestra on its dais suddenly struck up a ruffle and flourish. Escorted by his host, Prinny entered the room, followed by Allegra. Lord Morgan nodded to the musicians, and the strains of the minuet began. The prince bowed to Allegra, who curtsied beautifully, and together they danced most gracefully. When they had finished the ballroom was filled with the thunder of clapping. Prince George, better known as Prinny, was a handsome man of thirty, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a pink complexion. He and Allegra had made a most attractive couple. Escorting her back to her father, he bowed to them both.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Allegra said, and she curtsied again.

  “If Your Highness will allow me,” Lord Morgan said, “I have an announcement to make.”

  “Is it her betrothal?” Prinny said excitedly.

  Lord Morgan nodded with a smile. The prince was a bit childish and loved secrets. “To the Duke of Sedgwick,” he told Prinny softly, satisfying his overweening curiosity.

  “I say!” the prince replied. “A fine catch for you, Miss Morgan, and an even better one for Sedgwick. You both have my congratulations. Sedgwick,” he spoke to the duke who had now joined them, “you really ought to gamble for you seem to have the damndest good fortune. Not only a beautiful gel, but a rich one as well!” He chuckled, well pleased, as if he had been responsible for the whole situation. “Well, Morgan, make your announcement so I can go and gamble,” Prinny said with another chuckle.