The Duchess

by Bertrice Small

  When she awoke in midafternoon he was lying next to her, snoring lightly. She rolled onto her side and studied him. They hadn’t even been married a full month yet, but there had been no time to really study Quinton Hunter. Yes, he was handsome with his black hair and thick eyelashes that now fanned across his high cheekbones. Those eyelashes were every bit as thick as hers, Allegra thought. His eyebrows were heavy and bushy. He had a long, and what was referred to as an aquiline nose. And his mouth. She sighed softly. It was big, and gave her the most delicious kisses. She considered his chin. It was square, and there was a dimple directly in the center. It was really quite outrageous.

  Then suddenly his silvery eyes were staring into her violet ones. Allegra gasped, startled. “You are awake,” she said, wondering how long he had been aware of her scrutiny.

  He smiled lazily at her. “May I assume that you approve of what you see, madame?” he said.

  “What on earth do you mean, Quinton?”

  “You were studying me quite closely, madame.” He rolled her suddenly onto her back, his hands restraining hers quite effectively. “Admit it, duchess.” He gave her a quick kiss.

  “Never.” She laughed, and then she shrieked. “Sir, you are a randy fellow. Why your manhood is hard as a rock against my leg.”

  “I have to pee,” he announced, releasing her, and then getting up to find the chamber pot. “But when I am finished, Duchess, you have my permission to make me randy,” he told her with a wicked grin. Then turning his back he pissed into the flowered china chamber pot, sighing with relief as he pushed it back beneath their bed. He turned about, and advanced upon her once again.

  “Quinton. We have guests,” Allegra cried.

  “Who, if they are awake, my dear duchess, are probably doing exactly what you and I are about to do,” he told her, grinning again.

  “It is daylight,” she protested as he climbed back next to her. “Can you do it in the daylight?”

  Quinton Hunter burst out laughing. “My darling duchess,” he said, “you can do it any time and almost anywhere, I assure you.”

  “How interesting,” she purred, her voice suddenly very seductive. “On the rug?” Her look was questioning.

  “Yes.”

  “In the garden?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “In my bath?”

  “A charming idea,” he agreed.

  “Any time?”

  “And almost any place,” he repeated softly, kissing her ear.

  “But what if I were dressed?” she demanded.

  “I should take great pleasure, Duchess, in lifting your skirts in order to have my way with you,” he murmured wickedly, blowing into her ear now.

  “Oh la, sir, you are very naughty,” Allegra accused him, but her heart was beating wildly. He was half atop her, their legs entwining in a sensuous embrace. His lips were employed in kissing her lips, her throat, her face, and every part of her body that he could reach. Her round little breasts were crushed against his hard chest, his soft fur irritating her nipples which suddenly seemed extraordinarily sensitive.

  Her perfumed skin was utterly intoxicating, he thought. Unable to help himself, he began to mouth her with his lips. Was it possible to eat her up? He certainly wanted to devour her for she was to his thinking most delicious. His lips moved across her belly. He could feel a pulse fluttering beneath his mouth. She was making little noises that seemed to come from the back of her throat. She was writhing beneath him, and he held her fast so he might continue kissing her. His manhood was beginning to hurt, throbbing with desire, eager to plunge within her fragrant warmth. Finally Quinton Hunter could wait no longer. Covering her lush body with his, he pressed forward.

  “Ahhhh,” Allegra cried as he entered her. “Ohh, Quinton! Oh, darling, yes!” Her slim arms clutched at him. Her long legs wrapped themselves about his lean torso. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” The words were almost a prayer.

  He was lost within her. His thoughts disappeared. There was only sensation, and the wonder of the pleasure they were giving and sharing with each other. His hips drove relentlessly against her hips. His hands tangled themselves into the dark mass of her hair, holding her head tightly as their kisses fired volley after volley of hot desire that coursed through their veins until they could kiss no more. They were breathless with the hunger they seemed to engender within each other. They were so finely attuned to each other that once again they exploded together, then collapsed into each other’s embrace.

  For several long minutes the sounds of their breathing, at first ragged, and finally less harried, filled the room.

  “You are magnificent,” the duke finally said to his wife, kissing her softly as he rolled away from her. Propping himself upon an elbow he looked down into her beautiful face.

  “You called me darling,” he said.

  “I didn’t,” she quickly denied.

  He laughed softly. “You did, Allegra. Could it be that you are beginning to harbor a tendre for me, Duchess?”

  “I hardly know you, sir,” she said, struggling to keep herself from falling headlong into his silvery gaze.

  “You have known me since April,” he said, chuckling, “and you have lived at Hunter’s Lair with me since mid-June and you have been my wife for four weeks.”

  “Is it four weeks?” she said innocently.

  “Say you love me,” he coaxed her. “You know that I love you,” Quinton Hunter said softly.

  “You lust after me,” she said. “Is that love, my lord?”

  “Lusting after you is part of my love for you,” he explained to her. “But the thought of being without you—ever—drives me to darkest despair, Allegra. I love you. And I think you love me.”

  “I don’t understand love,” Allegra persisted.

  “Do not be evasive, Allegra,” he gently scolded her. “Answer yourself this question. Would you rather be with me, or without me?”

  “With you,” she cried without hesitation.

  “You love me,” he said quietly.

  And the reality slammed into her. She did love him! She didn’t understand anything about love, or why she felt the way she did toward him, but she did. “I love you,” she said wonderingly. “Oh, Quinton, I do.”

  “I know,” he replied, enfolding her into his arms. “Despite our careful resolve, my darling duchess. Despite the plain facts that would caution us against such folly, we have nonetheless fallen in love with each other.” He kissed the top of her head. “I do not understand it either, Allegra, but there it is.”

  “I suppose it isn’t a bad thing,” she grudgingly considered.

  “No,” he agreed, “it seems to be quite a pleasant thing.”

  “I shall never betray you like my mother did my father,” she promised him. “Mama, they say, was always emotional and indiscreet. I am my father’s daughter, Quinton, I swear it.”

  “I know you are, my dearest Allegra. Despite your great fortune I should have never married you had I believed for one moment that you would betray me or bring embarrassment upon my family’s name.”

  “What do we do now?” she asked him.

  “We live happily ever after, I believe,” he answered her with a broad smile. “We make love and have little heirs and heiresses, and live happily ever after, Allegra.”

  “It seems simple enough, but life, I have found, is rarely that simple, Quinton,” she replied. “It ought to be, but it isn’t.”

  “It will be for us, my darling,” he promised her.

  The clock on the mantel struck four o’clock.

  “Good lord!” Allegra cried, leaping up in their bed. “We have guests in the house to attend to, my lord. This is their last night with us. Our friends go home tomorrow, and I don’t know when we will see each other again.” She squirmed from his embrace, and jumped from their bed. “Oh, lord, I hope no one has come downstairs and asked for us yet. Oh, Quinton! Get up! Get up now, my lord!” She yanked the bell pull for Honor. “I have to get dressed. I have to see that
the dinner menu is correct.”

  “Crofts will attend to the dinner menu, Duchess,” her husband said calmly. “You have a most adorable bottom, madame.”

  “Ohh!” Allegra flushed bright pink. She was completely naked. She had come from her bed unawares, so great was her concern for their friends. Then she laughed. There was no use grabbing for something to cover herself now. “Get up, Quinton,” she repeated sternly.

  He grinned lazily at her, and slid from the bed, as naked as she. “I had best retire to my own quarters before I shock poor Honor,” he said with a chuckle. Then he blew her a kiss from his fingertips, and was gone through the connecting door.

  At that same moment Honor entered her mistress’s bedchamber. “Good afternoon, my lady,” she said calmly, avoiding looking at Allegra directly as she was unclothed. “Shall I bring you something to eat?”

  “Our guests?” Allegra almost squawked.

  Honor calmly went to the wardrobe and took out a silk chamber robe which she draped over her mistress. “Only just beginning to stir, my lady. Mr. Crofts has everything under control.”

  “I must get downstairs as quickly as possible,” Allegra said. “It will not do to have the guests without their hostess.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Honor replied. “I’ll send an undermaid for your tea right away.”

  When Allegra descended the stairs an hour later she found the house still quiet. She peeped into the ballroom as she came, and discovered it neat and empty. The beautiful wooden floors were swept clean. The chairs and the settees lining the walls were neatly covered. The great chandeliers had been done up again in dust cloths until the next ball. The tall pedestals were bare of their flowers, and the heavy gold satin draperies were drawn, allowing only slivers of afternoon sunlight to creep between their panels and streak across the floor. Entering the family drawing room she found Sirena sitting, sewing upon a tiny garment.

  “You are awake. Crofts said you had not got to bed until after seven o’clock,” Sirena said. “You must be exhausted. It was a wonderful ball, cousin. I hope to come to others in this house when I am less encumbered by my belly.” She smiled at Allegra.

  “I love him,” Allegra answered. She simply could not keep such news from her beloved Sirena.

  “I know,” Sirena replied, looking up and smiling.

  “How could you know when even I did not?” her cousin demanded. “Do not be smug, Sirena, or I shall be very cross with you.”

  Sirena laughed. “Ocky and I both knew the day you married Quinton that you were in love with him. It was simply a matter of you coming to terms with it, facing the truth, and admitting it to yourself. Love is neither practical nor sensible, Allegra, but when it touches you, you are forever changed. We saw that change even before you could face it yourself. I am not being smug. I am relieved, and I am happy for you both. Now I know that everything will be all right.”

  “I shall not change because I am in love with my husband,” Allegra protested.

  “I do not care how you justify it, cousin,” Sirena said quietly. She held up a tiny gown she was working on. “Isn’t it sweet? It is so amazing to realize that in late March or early April I shall be putting this wee gown on my baby.” She set her sewing aside, and placed her hands upon her belly. “I thought I felt something very much like a butterfly within me this morning, Allegra.”

  Now Allegra smiled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one day my daughter married your son? We must arrange the match one day.”

  “Are we dressing for dinner?” Caroline Walworth entered the room now in the company of Eunice Bainbridge.

  “No,” Allegra said. “I shall ask Crofts to set up the highboard in the Great Hall tonight. We can amuse ourselves afterward, but since you are all leaving in the morning, I imagine you will want to make an early night of it.” She sighed. “I shall miss you when you are gone.”

  “Bain says we are going to spend part of the winter in London,” Eunice said.

  “So are we,” Caroline squealed. “I know that you don’t like the city, Allegra, but the country is so dull in the winter months. You must come, and we shall all be together.”

  “I can’t come,” Sirena said sadly.

  “No, you can’t,” Caroline replied in a practical tone, “but you were the first wed, and so it is only natural that you are the first of us to have a baby, Sirena. There will be another time for you, dearest, but if the rest of us aren’t with child, or at least admitting to it, then we should go. If it snows this winter none of us shall be able to leave home. The snow does not seem to bother anyone in London.”

  “Are we keeping city hours, madame?” Quinton Hunter demanded of his wife as he entered the drawing room with the other gentlemen. “Where is the dinner, Duchess? We are all ravenous for a good supper.”

  “Patience, prithee, I pray you, Duke,” Allegra said to him. “I must ask Crofts to set the table in the Great Hall, but the food, I will wager, is ready, although when you slugabeds were going to join us was a mystery.” Then she curtsied to them all, and hurried from the room to find Crofts.

  The dinner was served shortly thereafter, and the hall was filled with merry laughter as the eight friends ate and talked. Lady Caroline presented her plan that they should all meet in London in mid-January. The plan was heartily approved by all present except the viscount and his wife.

  “I suppose you could go if you wanted to,” Sirena said forlornly, but they could all see she really didn’t mean it.

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Ocky said hopefully, but then he looked about at the others, and noted their looks of disapproval. “Of course you wouldn’t mind for you are an angel, my darling,” Ocky quickly recovered himself, “but I shall not leave you at Pickford with our heir so close to being born. What if there was a storm, and I couldn’t return to be by your side? No, Sirena, we shall winter at Pickford together.”

  “Ohh, Ocky, that is so sweet,” Sirena murmured happily.

  After their meal the men decided to play at dice. The ladies insisted on being shown how to play.

  “I am not certain that is a good idea,” the Earl of Aston said.

  “Afraid of losing to a lady, Marcus?” his wife murmured.

  “Damnit, Eunice, there are some things a lady doesn’t do,” was the swift answer.

  “Ladies play at gambling all the time,” Allegra responded. “We play at cards, but this game you call Hazard looks like more fun.”

  “I thought you didn’t like to gamble,” Lord Walworth said.

  “She doesn’t, except among friends,” his wife replied. “What is the harm, Adrian, in teaching us your little game?”

  “Caroline!”

  “Teach them,” the duke said.

  “What?” the earl cried. “You are encouraging this, Quint? You of all people?”

  “I do not gamble for real stakes, and neither does my wife. I trust Allegra’s good sense not to gamble with strangers, or for any real wager. I must assume that you trust your wives as well,” the duke said.

  “Bravo!” Caroline cried, and her female companions clapped.

  The Earl of Aston laughed, and held up his hands. “I surrender, ladies. Very well, here is how you play the game. Hazard uses two dice. The caster who controls the dice throws until he, or she, scores five, six, seven, eight, or nine. Your first throw is called the main. Your second, which must equal the first cast, is called the chance. If your second throw equals your first then you have knicked it. If you throw crabs, which is a two, three, eleven, or twelve, you have thrown out, and lost. You must continue your play until you win or lose. It is simple enough.”

  Soon the Great Hall of Hunter’s Lair was filled with noisy laughter as they all played Hazard. They made wagers such as a kiss, or a sip of port, or a sugar wafer. When Allegra suddenly realized that the tall clock in the hall had struck ten she called a halt to their game, reminding them of the time.

  “What a wonderful evening,” Caroline said enthusiastically. “We shall have such a g
rand time in London this winter. We really don’t need any other friends but one another. And on our way home in March we shall all come to Pickford to pay our respects to the new heir, Sirena.”

  “And you will tell me of your adventures, and I shall be most envious. Ocky, we must not have another baby for at least two years.”

  They laughed, and hand in hand the four couples ascended the stairs once again to their bedchambers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Allegra celebrated her eighteenth birthday on December ninth with her husband, her father, and her stepmother, as well as Sirena, Ocky, George, and his wife, Melinda. Melinda chose the occasion to smugly announce that she was expecting a baby in midwinter.

  “The gel might have picked another time for her little proclamation,” murmured Lady Morgan to her husband. “I believe the wench has delusions of grandeur. I heard her say it was to be the next Sedgwick heir. The nerve of her! Allegra had best put a stop to that nonsense! The gel’s mother has obviously been filling her head with all matter of silliness. I should not have thought Squire Franklyn’s daughter such a bold baggage.”

  “Allegra will mother the next duke, my dear,” Lord Morgan said quietly. “Are you not the mother of a fine family?”

  Lady Morgan blushed prettily. “I am,” she agreed.

  “Then we shall not worry,” Lord Morgan said.

  The duke gave his wife a pretty cart, painted green and silver, along with a fat black and white pony to draw it. “You may not always want to ride about,” he told her. “And if the weather is inclement, and you wish to go over to Pickford, the cart will do nicely.”