The Duchess

by Bertrice Small

  “It doesn’t matter,” he told her, taking her hands in his. “A year ago I would not have said such a thing to you, nor believed it if anyone had said it to me. I went to London to seek a rich wife. I found her. I did not, however, plan on falling in love with her, yet I did. Hunter’s Lair has been restored. Nay, it is better than it ever was, Allegra, and that is thanks to you and your father’s generosity. Your father negotiated a fabulous yearly sum upon you and upon me. Neither of us has spent a great deal of those monies for we are both frugal by nature. We could live comfortably for the rest of our lives on what your father has given us this year alone. And what of your investments, my darling duchess? Unless one of us takes to gambling, we shall never be poor, Allegra. Whatever your father decides he wants to give us after this child is born will be suitable. Septimius Morgan is a fair man.” Quinton Hunter put his arms about his wife. “I am content with just you, my darling.”

  “It is not only the wealth involved,” she said to him. “Do you know how embarrassing it is to be barren at my age, especially when both my cousins and my stepmother are about to have a child? My wealth is going to be taken away from me, and I cannot even give you an heir, Quinton. It appears to me that you have gotten a bad bargain in me.”

  “Do you love me?” he asked looking down into her distraught face. “Do you love me, my darling duchess?”

  “I do!” she cried. “How can you ever doubt it?”

  “Then why do you doubt me, Allegra? I love you, and all your wealth means nothing to me as long as you love me back,” he told her. Then he kissed her passionately.

  She clung to him, her eyes welling with tears. He was a good man, but she knew he could not possibly really mean what he was saying. He had not yet had time to consider the situation. But, oh, she wanted to believe! They would return to Hunter’s Lair, and he would soon see his wife with her pittance as a very bad bargain. Especially if she could not at least keep her end of their marriage bargain and produce a son for him.

  He sensed her distress. How was he to make her believe that he loved her no matter what happened? He sighed, and held her close, his lips brushing the top of her hair.

  Their dinner came, but Allegra ate little. She had lost her appetite, and nothing tasted good to her. The duke on the other hand ate heartily of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, salmon broiled with dill sauce, green beans, bread, butter, cheese, and a caramel custard. The innkeeper had a surprisingly good supply of good French Bordeaux, and Quinton Hunter drank three goblets down with his meal.

  The next morning they departed early after a hearty country breakfast that Allegra picked at while her husband ate, as she put it, “like a field hand.” The innkeeper provided them with a basket for luncheon. They stopped to rest the horses at noon, and by two o’clock were on the road again. At four as they were about to pass by a rather prosperous-looking inn a man ran out and flagged them down.

  “Duke of Sedgwick?” he asked.

  “I am the Duke of Sedgwick,” Quinton Hunter said, sticking his head from the carriage.

  “Lord Morgan has sent ahead, Your Grace. We have your accommodations and your own prime cattle waiting in the stables. Lord Morgan asks that his men be allowed to return his horses tomorrow. If you’ll turn in, and come this way, my lord.” The man swung about, and taking the harnesses of the lead horses escorted the duke’s coach into the innyard.

  “How thoughtful,” Allegra said sourly.

  “She’s in a right evil mood,” Honor murmured softly to Hawkins as they descended the carriage. “I’ve never seen her this way, and I’ve been with her since she was a child.”

  “Spoilt rotten she is,” Hawkins pronounced.

  “You keep on like that, and I’ll not wed you,” Honor snapped.

  “You have to now that I’ve put that baby in yer belly,” Hawkins grinned wickedly. “As soon as we gets back to Hunter’s Lair, my girl!”

  “Shut yer gob, Peter Hawkins! That’s all she needs to know, that I’m having a baby and she ain’t! You say one word, and I swear, I’ll kill you!”

  “Don’t know how long you can keep it a secret, lass,” he said.

  “Long enough if I have to,” Honor replied.

  “She don’t deserve you, lass,” the valet said softly.

  Another day’s travel, and they finally reached Hunter’s Lair. They had been gone for two months, having left in the dead of winter to go up to London. Now, however, spring was here. The hillsides about them were green, and awash with golden daffodils. The trees in the orchards were beginning to look alive, their buds swelling. Several of the duke’s mares had foaled, and the youngsters were already turned out into the fields during the day with their dams. The house looked wonderful in the late afternoon light, the sun turning the windows facing west a luscious red and gold like molten fire.

  Allegra felt herself actually cheering up at the sight of her home. She smiled to herself, and the duke was heartened when he saw that small smile, and the pleasure in her eyes. Reaching out, he took her gloved hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. Her eyes met his, and she smiled again.

  “I never want to leave here,” she told her husband.

  “Neither do I,” he said. “We shall be as snug as two bugs in a rug forever, my darling duchess.”

  Crofts came forth from the house to greet them. “Welcome home, Your Graces,” he said warmly. “I have a message for you that came this morning from Viscount Pickford. The footman who brought it says Lady Sirena has had her baby.” He handed Allegra the sealed packet.

  Allegra took it, and quickly broke open the seal. Her eyes flew over the page, her smile widening. Then she looked up at Quinton. “It’s a boy!” she told him. “George Octavius William, and we are his godparents. Is the footman still here?” she asked Crofts.

  “No, Your Grace, I sent him back. We did not know when to expect you,” Crofts told his mistress.

  Her face fell, but then she brightened. “I need time to write to Sirena. I shall send one of our people over in the morning. Perhaps we shall go ourselves, Quinton. A little boy! How happy they must be,” Allegra said almost wistfully.

  “You must rest for several days,” the duke told her. “A winter in London, followed by our recent adventures, and all this travel make it very necessary for you to take your ease for a short while. I do not want you getting sick, Allegra.” He took her hand up and kissed it tenderly. “Remember, Duchess, we have work to do yet if we are to catch up with Sirena and Ocky.”

  Allegra smiled sadly, pulling her hand away from him. “I shall go, and write to Sirena now so that it may go off first thing in the morning.”

  They ate their dinner in silence. Allegra had to admit that she was tired. They climbed into bed together, and he cuddled her in his arms, kissing the top of her head, but he knew instinctively that she was not in the mood to make love. Allegra, the duke understood, needed, as her stepmother had said, to come to terms with what was happening. He slept soundly in his bed, awakening to find the sun streaming into the chamber, and Allegra gone from their bed. He called to her, but received no answer. He pulled on the bell cord.

  “Good morning, Your Grace!” Hawkins answered his summons almost immediately.

  “Has the duchess gone down to breakfast?” he asked his valet.

  “No, my lord. Her Grace ran off at first light. I believe Honor said she was going to visit the viscountess and the new baby.”

  “Damnation!” The word slipped out before he could prevent it, and he saw Hawkins hide a smile. He turned the subject. “When are you and Honor getting married?”

  “Three weeks, Your Grace,” the valet answered. “The banns have got to be read. And it won’t be a moment too soon, if you gets my drift, my lord.” He winked at his master.

  “Good lord!” the duke exclaimed as his valet’s words sunk into his sleep-befogged brain.

  “Honor says we can’t tell Her Grace, my lord, but I thought you ought to know,” Hawkins said.

  “Yes,” the
duke agreed, “but Her Grace will know eventually, won’t she, Hawkins?”

  “Aye, sir, but ’Tis to be hoped that Her Grace will, by then, be in the family way herself,” came the reply. Then Hawkins actually blushed. “Begging your pardon, my lord.”

  Quinton Hunter waved his hand. “ ’Tis all right, Hawkins. Are my clothes and shaving gear laid out in the dressing room?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Then see that there is something for me to eat, and then go to the stables and have my stallion saddled. I’ll have to ride over to the Earl of Pickford’s estate after my breakfast,” the duke told his valet. He climbed from his bed, lifting his nightshirt to pee in the chamber pot that Hawkins held out for him.

  He dressed, and after a hearty breakfast, rode out. He didn’t know whether to be angry at Allegra or not. She was exhausted, he knew. Their adventure in France, for all the ease with which they had accomplished their mission to rescue the Comtesse d’Aumont, had been harrowing. She was distressed by her father and stepmother’s news, and equally upset that she was not having a child yet. But she would. Of that he was quite certain. They would have children if he could but make love to her again.

  It was a beautiful spring day. The air held a hint of warmth. The flowers bloomed on the roadside. The meadows were filled with lambs who gamboled and chased one another while their dams baaed fretfully. It was the kind of spring day that poets wrote odes about, he thought. He reached Pickford Hall in midmorning, was shown into a morning room, and offered wine, which he declined.

  “Have you seen him?” Viscount Pickford demanded by way of greeting his oldest friend as he entered the room.

  “I have only just arrived,” the duke said, amused.

  “Allegra said you wouldn’t be coming probably for several days,” Ocky said.

  “I told Allegra not to come for several days,” the duke replied. “Has she told you of our adventures in France?”

  “France?” Viscount Pickford was astounded. “No. What the hell were you doing in Froggieland, Quint? And Allegra was with you?”

  “And Marcus, Eunice, Adrian, and Caroline, too. And did I mention that Allegra’s maid, Honor, speaks rather good French?” he concluded with a chuckle. Then he added, “But first I would see your heir.”

  “Damn you, sir, I cannot refuse my son’s godfather his first glimpse, but then you are going to sit down and tell me everything,” Viscount Pickford declared.

  “Agreed,” the duke answered his friend. “Where is my wife, by the way?”

  “With Sirena. Allegra has cooed Georgie to death, and now is gossiping with my wife. She looks tired, not at all at her best, I fear.”

  The duke followed his friend up the stairs to the nursery where he was given a peek at his three-day-old godson, a plump pink and white lump of infant with a tuft of pale golden hair. The baby opened a pair of rather bright blue eyes to observe his visitor, and then closed them again, as if to say, I don’t find you important to my existence right now, and so you are dismissed.

  The duke chuckled with amusement.

  “Who do you think he looks like?” the viscount demanded to know.

  “He looks like an old gentleman right now,” the duke responded, “so I suppose we could say he looks like your father. I assume the earl is pleased with your first efforts.”

  “Over the moon,” Ocky said with a grin as they left the nursery to return to the morning room.

  “And Sirena is recovering from her ordeal?”

  “She carried him like a prize mare, and birthed him like a woman in the fields. It was amazing! That dainty little slip of a girl I’ve wed. The doctor said he had never seen anything like it. Says she can go on breeding for years to come.”

  “It must run in the family,” the duke said as they entered the morning room again and sat down.

  “What on earth do you mean?” the viscount queried.

  “This is for your ears alone, Ocky. You cannot tell Sirena until her mother does. Lady Morgan is expecting a baby in May,” the duke said, and then laughed aloud at the look on his friend’s face.

  Finally Ocky said, “You are jesting, of course.”

  Quinton Hunter shook his head in the negative.

  “Damn me if that doesn’t beat all,” the viscount said. “That’s why she hasn’t been about in recent months, isn’t it? Is she all right?”

  “Other than being as big as a sow about to litter, she seems to be. Allegra, however, is very upset by this turn of events.”

  “Of course she would be,” Ocky said. “She is now no longer her father’s heiress. She will have to share with her new sibling, and if it is a boy, her portion will be greatly cut.”

  “I don’t care,” the duke said, “but my wife does not believe that. She is now desperate to have an heir. She sees her failure to do so as some sort of flaw on her part. She is quite angry.”

  “Tell me about France,” the viscount replied. “What the hell were you all doing in France?

  “Ahh, Ocky, you and Sirena missed a grand adventure. It was quite mad of us. I knew it before we set off, and in retrospect I realize how damned lucky we all were to get back alive.” Then he went on to elucidate to his friend the tale of the Comtesse d’Aumont’s plight, and how they had rescued her, her children, the fierce old Thérèse, and Céline. “If we had been caught we would have all faced the guillotine. Especially as the old cook murdered the head of the Committee for Public Safety in St. Jean Baptiste, though I doubt he’ll be missed. The local priest saw to the disposal of his body, and forgave the cook her sin.” He chuckled.

  “I would have liked to have been with you,” the viscount said.

  “We thought about you the entire time,” the duke teased his best friend.

  “The hell you did,” Ocky laughed. “You were far too busy making certain none of you were caught. Imagine Allegra’s little maid taking charge like that, and pulling it off. She’s a game gel, Honor is. I was never very good with French, though you certainly are.”

  “Is Sirena up to seeing me? And then I must collect my wife, and return home. I would imagine Sirena cannot take too much company, and is probably too nice to send Allegra away.”

  The Duchess of Sedgwick looked surprised to see her husband as he entered the viscountess’s bedchamber. The duke went over to Sirena, kissed her upon the forehead, and said, “He is an absolutely lovely boy, my dear Sirena. You have done well for yourself, and for Ocky.”

  “It was an easy birth,” Sirena admitted.

  “So Ocky tells me,” was the reply.

  “I think Doctor Thatcher was rather surprised,” Sirena said with a smile, and a little twinkle in her eye. “Oh, Quinton, I have had such a lovely visit with Allegra.”

  “But now you are ready to rest, I am certain, my dear. Allegra also needs her rest, but nothing could prevent her from coming immediately to see you. You will let us know when the baby’s christening is to be set? Come, madame, we have a long ride home.”

  “I thought I should stay a few days with Sirena,” Allegra responded surlily. “After all, Quinton, I have not seen my cousin in several months, and we have a great deal to catch up on, sir.”

  “Birthing an infant, no matter how quick the process, is difficult, Allegra,” the duke told his wife. “Sirena needs to rest.” He reached out and clamped his hand about her upper arm. “Come, my darling girl.”

  Her look was one of complete outrage, but she obeyed. “I shall be back,” she told Sirena.

  “Eventually,” the duke said, and then led his wife from the room, almost forcibly.

  “I should have thought to ask Allegra to remain,” Sirena said. “Run after them, Ocky, and tell them.”

  “No, my dearest, Allegra must go home,” the viscount said to his surprised wife. Then he sat down next to her. “Let me tell you what your cousin and our friends have been doing.” He then proceeded to regale her with the tale of the Bellinghams’ niece and her family. He finished by saying, “They have just returned f
rom France via London. Allegra is exhausted, but refuses to admit it. Quint wants to get her home so she may rest. You can see how washed out she is, sweetheart.”

  “But it was so wonderful to see her,” Sirena said, “especially since Mama has not come. I do not understand it. Do you think something has happened to Mama, and Steppapa doesn’t want to tell me for fear of harming our baby? Well, the baby is born and healthy, and I have sent to Mama two days ago and have no answer. You must go to Morgan Court tomorrow, Ocky, and bring my mother back to me.”

  “I think that is an excellent idea, sweetheart,” the viscount answered his wife. “I shall start in the morning.” He kissed her gently. “Go to sleep now, Sirena.” Then he left her bedchamber, and hurried downstairs, just catching the duke and Allegra. “Quinton,” he called. “Sirena wants to see her mama. What am I to do?”

  “You told him?” Allegra’s voice was icy.

  “I thought it necessary,” the duke said.

  “Must the entire world know that my ancient stepmother is having a baby, and I am not?” Allegra demanded.

  “You had best tell Sirena so she doesn’t fret, and you do not have to take the long ride to Morgan Court,” the duke advised.

  “No. I shall tell her,” Allegra cried, and dashed back up the stairs to her cousin’s bedchamber.

  Sirena was just dozing off. She sat up as Allegra slammed into her room. “Wh … what is it?” she said, startled. “Oh, Allegra, you have come back, dearest.”

  “I just came to tell you that Aunt Mama will not be coming to see you immediately. Quinton and I stopped at Morgan Court on our way back from London. Your mother is expecting a baby in May, Sirena. Isn’t it awful? I didn’t want you to be as embarrassed as I am over this state of affairs, but I also didn’t want you to worry as to why she was not here with you and her grandson, where she should be,” Allegra finished in a self-righteous tone.