Duke of Decadence

by Rand, Violetta

  Alonzo had no desire to end up in the fiery depths of Hades after he died. “Absolution is possible, my friend. I wish you would give it a try someday.”

  The earl chuckled. “When is the last time you stepped inside a church and talked to a parson?”

  Too many years… Once his parents died, Alonzo became a skeptic of religion and faith. In essence, he had lost his. But now, someone had given him a reason to hope again, and he’d be damned if anyone got in the way of his future.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A dozen tables had been set up in the main drawing room to play whist. The women and men were paired off, and Julia was surprised to see so much money exchanging hands. Had the Duke of Stanhope suddenly transformed his home into a gaming hell? Never interested in playing or gambling, she kept to the perimeter of the room, walking quietly by the tables, gazing at the hands of cards some the guests held. None seemed to notice her, for they were too deeply absorbed in the game.

  Willa welcomed her to an empty table by one of the hearths, and they sat down together, happy to spend some quality time after being apart for the last day.

  “Is it true?” Willa asked.

  “What exactly?”

  “That Madeline Hershey is Mr. Garland’s half-sister?”

  “Who have you been talking to, Willa?”

  “The Earl of Ganes, of course. He seems to have a fair knowledge of all the people here, their family histories, financials, even which noblemen have children outside of their marriages!”

  Julia didn’t know whether she should be impressed or frightened by the earl’s collection of knowledge. “Are you saying he is a gossipmonger?”

  “Not precisely, but I find it fascinating.”

  “Perhaps you ought to be careful about what you discuss with him. After all, he is practically a stranger.”

  “Why? Mama has given her approval for me to foster a friendship with him. And I prefer his company over any of the other gentlemen here.”

  “And what does your earl have to say about me?”

  Willa smiled. “Wonderful things, really.”

  “Should that not be worrisome?” she asked with an air of annoyance. “What does he know of me?”

  Her friend reached across the table and took her hand. “I wish you would learn to trust again.”

  “I never lost trust in the people I care about. Just in the general public for their lack of concern over the less fortunate.”

  “Such a noble thing to say,” came a practiced, female voice with a refined, American accent.

  Julia cringed the moment she heard Miss Hershey, and nearly gagged at the amount of potent perfume she wore. She turned her head slightly to find the woman standing at their table.

  “Good evening, Lady Julia,” she said.

  “Miss Hershey.”

  “May I join you ladies?”

  “Actually…” Willa started.

  Julia shook her head at Willa to stop her from refusing to allow Miss Hershey to join them. “Of course, sit with us.”

  “I could not help but overhear your conversation about the unfortunate souls who populate your dear country—especially in London.”

  “We work very hard to raise funds to pay for food and other necessities for women and children,” Julia explained.

  “Especially for the widows and children of the war.”

  “You seem the perfect advocate for such people,” she addressed Willa.

  “What do you mean?” Willa asked.

  Madeline sat on the edge of her chair and leaned forward to whisper her answer. “It is no secret what has befallen you and your mother. I would think if anyone could sympathize with those in need, you could.”

  “Nothing unusual has befallen me, Miss Hershey,” Willa defended herself. “There are any number of second wives and their children who have met the same challenges. Unfortunately, when titles and estates are entailed to the heir, the remaining children are often forced to find a way to support themselves.”

  “Please, do not take offense to what I have said. Primogeniture is not as widespread in my country. After all, I am the heiress to my father’s fortune.”

  “If I recall properly,” Willa said, “the laws vary in different territories.”

  “States,” Madeline corrected rather hastily.

  “States,” Willa said. “Inheritance laws are not the same in every state.”

  How Julia adored her friend for all the time she spent with her nose in a book, especially ones about history.

  “What are the laws in Pennsylvania?” Julia asked.

  “Pennsylvania? I live in New York.”

  “Oh. I believe your brother, Mr. Garland, told me he was from Pennsylvania.”

  Madeline waved her hand. “Yes, of course. We share the same mother, but his father was from Pennsylvania, mine from New York.”

  “I see,” Julia said.

  “Have you ever traveled abroad, Lady Julia?”

  “To France and Italy when I was very young.”

  “Do you have any desire to see America?”

  “No,” she said with conviction.

  “Why ever not?” Miss Hershey asked.

  “I am perfectly happy with my home. America seems a world away, a very free place.”

  “Free?”

  “I believe she means primitive,” Willa said.

  Julia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh—Madeline Hershey had taken great offense to what her friend had said.

  “I assure you, I am as civilized as you, Lady Willa.”

  Willa did not say anything, and awkward silence stretched between them until the Duke of Pridegate appeared.

  “Ladies.” He bowed, offering a dazzling smile to Julia.

  “Your Grace,” Miss Hershey said, standing. “Your friends were just telling me how uncivilized they think America is.”

  Alonzo chuckled. “Many Englishmen would be hard pressed to agree after the war. Perhaps King George benefitted from losing that vast continent after all.”

  Madeline gasped. “Of all the people who I thought considered America a true ally, it would be you, Alonzo.”

  Julia was not surprised that she would use his given name so freely. It bothered her in a way she could not explain, and a twinge of jealousy made her frown.

  “Miss Hershey,” he said. “If I could have a word with you, alone.”

  She raised her hand to her chest. “But of course, Your Grace.” She gave Julia and Willa a smug smile as she followed the duke away from the table and to a distant corner of the drawing room.

  *

  “Miss Hershey,” Alonzo said brusquely. “I must ask you to follow the traditions we observe in this country—to respect my position and title. We are no longer intimately involved.”

  She reached for his hand and captured his fingers. “I never agreed to sever our ties, Alonzo.”

  He gently shook free of her grasp. “It did not require your approval. We shared a brief assignation, one I am happy to forget.”

  “That is extremely unfeeling and rude, Alonzo.”

  “Miss Hershey, perhaps I ought to get your brother to help you?”

  She shook her head and drew something out of her bodice—a small, silver flask. Opening it, she took a quick drink. “I do not answer to my brother, he answers to me.”

  “That is most unfortunate,” he said. “For it seems he has a better head on his shoulders than you do.”

  Her eyes went wide. “How could you be so cruel.”

  “There is no cruelty involved. Only honesty. I do not wish to hurt you, but I must ask, why are you here? And why did you send your brother—who I never knew before—when he is unknown by the duke and the guests at this house party?”

  “That is the most intelligent thing you have said to me in two days.” She returned the flask to her bodice, then tapped him on the chest with the closed fan hanging from her wrist. “As you know, I am always curious about what the English do during the Season. A friend told me if I made
a generous donation to the Duke of Stanhope’s art gallery, he would extend an invitation to me and Karl. How could I refuse when I knew you’d be here? As for my brother, I wanted him to see who you were keeping company with before I arrived.”

  The clever vixen always found a way to interfere in people’s lives. She was clearly a danger to herself and anyone he cared about. He could only wonder what was in that flask—brandy? Whiskey? He must find a way to peacefully remove her from the duke’s home before she caused irreparable damage to himself or Julia.

  “How much did you donate?”

  “Five thousand pounds.”

  A small fortune! “Five thousand pounds,” he repeated. “Why are you so careless with your money?”

  She tugged on his cravat. “You do care!”

  “No. I am simply curious who looks out for your fortune—why he would allow you to spend it so unwisely.”

  “I fired my accountant before I sailed to England. I’m afraid I am the spendthrift, Alonzo. Happy to spend my inheritance in order to find happiness.”

  “Listen to me.” He gripped her upper arm. “Money will never ensure your happiness, Maddie. It can ease your suffering, no doubt, but English gentlemen do not marry women who act so unashamedly. If you are still looking for an English husband.” He let go of her.

  “There is only one man I want as a husband…”

  She stared up at him, her eyes glassy and bloodshot. Though still beautiful, her features were sharper and dull.

  “I am not the man for you.”

  “No? But you’re the right one for Lady Julia? Do you know who her best friend is?”

  “Stop it, Maddie. There is nothing left for us to discuss. I want you to stay away from Lady Julia and Lady Willa.” Sure he had made his point, he bowed and left her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alonzo could never resist looking at Julia—whether they were alone or among friends. He could not stop thinking about her during the daytime, and at night, he fantasized endlessly about what he’d like to share with her—laughter and pleasure. She delighted him in every way, from her unconventional political views to the tenderness that she held for every living being. Even her stubbornness, though it made for some less than pleasant discussions sometimes, pleased him. A very strange thing indeed. For until recently, the duke had considered himself a staunch traditionalist. He had planned on returning home, reestablishing himself as the Duke of Pridegate, attending to his sisters’ needs, then finding himself a mistress, and in good time, a wife.

  However, his original idea for a wife did not include a young woman like Julia.

  And he felt certain she had never imagined meeting and liking a man like him.

  Once again, the two of them had found themselves in the same sort of circumstances—and perhaps they were truly meant for each other.

  But how did he go about telling her that he wished to court her? Of course, he needed to speak with her father right away. A letter would take care of that.

  “Your Grace?” Julia’s honeyed voice pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you ever consider singing for a charitable event?”

  They had joined a larger group of guests for an afternoon walk through the south gardens, a mixture of heavy woods and open fields with sculpted hedges, and rows and rows of flowers. One of the features that stood out the most was the white, cobbled walking paths. The Duke of Stanhope must spend a tidy sum maintaining the walkways, for Alonzo swore he had yet to see a speck of dirt on any individual stone.

  “What sort of charity?” She clung to his arm, looking devastatingly charming in her pink walking gown and matching bonnet.

  “For the widows and orphans of the war.”

  He considered her carefully, then gazed at Willa who was walking next to Julia. How could he deny these women anything?

  “And what venue did you think to have me sing at?”

  “We have not thought that far ahead,” Willa said.

  The prospect of raising funds for such a worthy cause interested him immensely, however, he would prefer to have a hand in who was invited to the concerto.

  “I believe we could reach some sort of agreement.”

  Julia stopped walking and clapped her hands together, a smile lighting up her face. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “How soon did you wish this to happen?” he asked.

  “After the summer season,” she said. “Once we have all returned to Town.”

  “I think that would be an appropriate time of year for such an event,” he assured her. “Our country estates provide an escape from the stifling heat of the summer, but once we return to London, I find myself starved for the theatre, balls, and whatever soireés you fashionable ladies like to host.”

  Willa laughed at him. “I believe you to be the only man who has ever admitted he enjoys going to balls.”

  Alonzo straightened his coat and feigned seriousness. “Well, perhaps you keep company with the wrong sort of men, Lady Willa.”

  They walked on, taking a different route than the larger group, ending up near the woods. “Stanhope told me there is a temple of some sort dedicated to Artemis, the Greek goddess of hunting, a quarter of a mile from here. Would you care to see it, Lady Julia, Lady Willa?”

  Willa gazed at her friend and shook her head. “Would you think me a ninny if I decided to go back to the house? My feet are achy from so much exercise.”

  Alonzo turned his head to hide his smile. What a smart girl, knowing the right time to make herself scarce so he could spend some private time with Julia. He looked back at her. “Of course not. Shall we escort you?”

  “Your Grace,” she said, resting her hand on her hip, “I can see the roof of the main house from here, and my mother is but thirty or forty yards away.”

  “Very well,” he said. “I trust you are capable of seeing yourself home.”

  Julia embraced her best friend and watched as she disappeared up the footpath and out of sight. “If only I could have been blessed with a sister—Willa would be my choice.”

  “She is an extraordinary young woman, resilient, and very intelligent.”

  “She would appreciate your confidence—I know I do.”

  “You think I lavish praise where it is not deserved?”

  “I think you use pretty words to seduce women.”

  “But I am not a liar.”

  She studied his face, then spoke again. “Something has changed since the first time we met.”

  Of all things, if he could go back and change her first impression of him, he would. He had been full of himself that day, happy to be home and enjoying the attention… thunder rumbled in the distance, and Alonzo stared up at the sky. Though the sun still shined, dark clouds had suddenly appeared. Then the first raindrops fell.

  “We have to make a quick decision,” he said.

  Julia looked about. “Are we closer to the house or the temple in the woods?”

  The rain started to fall more steadily.

  “The temple,” he said, gripping her hand tightly and pulling her along. “Let us seek shelter there.”

  *

  One fear stuck with Julia as she allowed him to guide her to the temple in the woods. What if they were caught together without a chaperone? Why had she allowed Willa to go? No one would suspect anything if two young ladies kept company with a duke. But this duke—well—he had warned her off before because he had a questionable reputation. She risked much by being alone with him, but it was worth it.

  As promised, they arrived at a white, brick building with a green roof. Stained-glass windows of every color graced the front and sides of the temple and an ornate, wood door with carvings of roses and naked nymphs… It seemed the Duke of Stanhope had an affection for nymphs in all states of undress!

  The door did not have a lock on it, and Alonzo opened it and tugged her inside, closing it behind them. The smell of sweet incense filled the air, and a statue in the Neoclassical style sat a
t the center of the room on a platform. At least six feet tall, the figure of a beautiful woman wearing flowing, blue robes, one of her breasts exposed, and holding a bow and quiver of golden arrows captured her attention immediately. Julia walked around the statue twice, taking in every lovely detail. Even her sandaled feet looked real, her toes decorated with gold rings.

  “This statue is flawless,” she said.

  “Giuseppe De Fabris is the artist. Stanhope spared no expense when he commissioned the piece. I believe it took three years to complete. And then there was the complication of having it shipped.”

  She wanted to reach out and run her fingers over the painted marble but knew better than to do so. “There are fresh bouquets of flowers strewn on the floor around the statue.”

  “Artemis is the patron goddess of girls. I am sure young ladies come here to pay tribute to her.”

  “She is also the goddess of the hunt—I am sure men come seeking her blessing,” Julia countered.

  “Or to ogle her luscious form.”

  She laughed. “As you are doing now?”

  “Precisely,” he said, then gazed at her more seriously. “I am pretending she is you.”

  Thunder cracked, and Julia let out a little cry.

  “You are not afraid of the thunder, are you?”

  “No. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Nervous young women make me uncomfortable.”

  “Did you ever think to blame yourself for making normally steady-handed young ladies nervous?”

  “Do you have an argument for every observation I make?”

  “I have many things to say to you, Your Grace.” His words were growing more flirtatious. What she’d give to have him kiss her again, to touch her.

  “I am pleased we are here alone, Julia. I wish to speak to you about something important.”

  “Has something happened I should be worried about?”

  “Yes.”

  She began to move hesitantly to one of the padded benches situated at the front of the statue. There were three, big enough for two people to sit on together. A small hearth graced the far wall, and several sconces with lit candles added to the comfort and beauty of the quiet space. There was also a table and four chairs and a painted screen in the other corner. She wondered what was behind the large screen, but decided to sit down instead of exploring. The duke wished to speak with her and deserved her undivided attention.