My Divinely Decadent Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Tomas rubbed his hands together. “The rest is history. When we arrived, weakened but better, he was informed he was the heir to the dukedom. To this day, I swear, he holds guilt for his inability to come home sooner to his dying father and brother. He doesn’t speak much about the experience, except in rare moments, but it eats at him like a savage beast.”

  “Excuse me a moment, Tomas. I want to look in on my husband’s progress.” She walked to the door, peeked through, and saw all was well. Chester came to her and advised the fever was down, there were no more tremors, no more outbursts, but he still wasn’t conscious.

  She returned to Tomas. “He will survive this. It is a wonder. Sweet heaven for prayers answered.”

  Tomas grabbed her hand and led her back to the chair.

  “I am suddenly exhausted, Tomas. I care not to ask any more questions, yet I thank you for your attempt at explanations. I understand so much more than I did. I married an honorable rogue with a heart of gold and a tattoo worthy of him and his ancestors.”

  He stood and walked to the door. “I can only say he is the finest friend a man can have. We went to University together and your husband befriended me when I was considered a pariah because of my station in life. He paid for my room and board, and we shared many a pugilistic night together. After a while, the chums saw our bond could not be broken. We not only were left alone, but our permission was sought for many things.”

  He turned. “He speaks highly of you and the care you take of the family. It’s quite possible you have besotted him. I am envious, duchess.” Then Tomas grinned and bid her goodnight. His usual bedroom was prepared for his arrival and there he would find another decanter of his favorite rum.

  Fatigue overtook her. Cassandra estimated she’d gone without a full sleep for about twenty-eight hours. She informed Chester she would return in a bit, but that she would seek rest.

  Mother Madelaine was asleep in her bed when Cassandra checked. She tiptoed out and would tell her the good news in the morning.

  When her head found the pillow, she was deep in the arms of Morpheus. Hours passed and the sunshine streamed in the window, awakened her. It was clear she’d overslept. Cassandra wanted to tell the duke’s mother about his progress, but Lady Madelaine wasn’t in her room. The children were nowhere around.

  Her maid wasn’t available either, so she dressed herself and quickly went to the duke’s sick room where to her surprise she found everyone around his bed. All eyes turned upon her as she entered. She smiled at the sight of him, already shaven, and he looked quite well. Yes, the ravages of the sickness showed under his eyes, but to her he was a wonderful sight.

  “You’ve finally awakened.” She greeted him with a large smile.

  He looked to her, a surly expression on his face. “Yes, I have. How was your heavy slumber?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Did you neglect someone while you slept?”

  Silence.

  Cassandra halted. She gazed at the faces of his mother, his best friend, the majordomo, the maid, the grooms, her ward and nephew. “One thing I didn’t neglect was the joy to see you away from your fitful stupor. Nor did I forget my manners. I will get about my duties. Concern over your welfare has prevented me from—I-I-I have to go.” She turned and rushed out of the room…to the kitchen.

  ****

  “You do know how to clear a room,” Tomas said.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you practice belligerence, or does it come naturally, amigo?” Tomas stood at the edge of the bed.

  The duke glared. “If I weren’t so weak, I would punch you.”

  Tomas’s white teeth showed when he curled his lips. “When you are physically well, we can arrange a round or two.” He grinned. “By the way, I extend my felicitations.”

  The duke frowned. “For what?”

  “Your domestic situation. You’ll have another mouth to feed.”

  “Yes.” He turned his face away. “I was the last to know about it.” He flexed his hands. “I feel like I’ve been beaten by rowdies.” He scanned the room. “Why are these potted plants in my room? I’m not a popinjay.”

  “Chester informed me your wife said your room smelled of death, and she wanted to have a more aromatic scent for you. As if the sweet smell of a rose could allay your callous disposition. Or perhaps it was another offer for your ancestors to protect you, English style?”

  “I wasn’t very cordial with her I’ll have to apologize.”

  “A sage thought. Are you prepared to get on your knees to her?” Tomas strode to the side of the bed, touched his hand to the duke’s forehead. “No fever. It’s a pity you cannot blame your surliness on the disease.”

  The duke sat up as if to strike, but didn’t have the strength, and fell back into the pillow. “Send my wife to me.”

  “Amigo, I would not presume to command a Duchess to come to your side. I’d rather face a hungry jungle tiger than the anger of a wife unjustly chastised in front of all.”

  “Do as I ask, damn you!”

  “No. Someone else will have to do your dirty work this time. Be careful, I might steal her from you. She’s such a pretty thing. Besides you’re in no shape to woo her.”

  The duke glared like bright lamps in a dark night. “Get out of here.”

  Tomas bowed in mock abeyance. “Gladly, your damn Grace. Your unpleasant behavior no longer amuses.”

  “I’m glad to see the back of you,” he retorted. He meant not a word, not to his best friend and certainly regretted all he’d said to his wife. The malaria relapse could not be prevented, but he should have thought about his comments to the woman he loved with all his heart. Easy to blame the relapse for all that occurred, but in his heart the though festered and grew. How could he have been so cruel. He could blame the malaria, but in truth, he had only himself to blame. The look on her face painted a picture he’d never forget. Oh, Cassandra, forgive me. Please. He did love her with all his heart.

  The duke surveyed the empty quiet room devoid of all presence except for him…and potted plants. “Chester!” he bellowed.

  The door opened. “Yes, your Grace?”

  “Kindly inform my wife that a repentant husband wishes to see her as soon as it is convenient.”

  “Yes, I will seek her at once.”

  “Chester?” he shouted.

  He turned.

  “If she refuses, tell her I won’t take any more medication unless she administers it to me. Do you understand my instructions?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Don’t forget the repentant part. And when you have accomplished your task, please send my valet in as I wish to get dressed. Off with you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Cassandra worked in the kitchen with the menus for the week, expressed to the staff regret that she’d had no time to review things. She told them how proud she was of all they’d accomplished. The dowager found her daughter-in-law and greeted her in warmth.

  Sighting her mother-in-law, she spoke in a quickened tone, “There is joyous news in that the duke recovers well from his relapse. Isn’t that so, Mother Madelaine?”

  The dowager reached for Cassandra. “I know how much time you spent in his recovery, but you are correct, he recuperates and will soon be barking orders at everyone. Thank you for your care of my son. With your approval, I suggest we give each staff member a ration of East India teas and tallow candles.” She hesitated for a moment, “And brandy for the men? Do you approve, my dear?”

  “Yes, Mother,” she was quick to say. “It is so much appreciated. All of you are our extended family. We wish to reward your loyalty and concern.” Cassandra looked away and took her apron from the hook in the kitchen where it resided for when she baked. “Indulge me please. I intend to make a humble pie.” And when he’s better, I hope he chokes on it.

  “Humble pie?” asked the dowager.

  “Yes, it’s a recipe of mine I used to bake quite often in summers at the school. I make the crust and then use whatever
is available for use, even potato skins or carrot tops.”

  She went to the larder, got the ingredients, placed the flour on a board, scraped a hole in the middle, added a cup of butter, pinch of salt and cracked one egg, rather fiercely, and then a pinch of vinegar and a third cup of warm water, and whipped up a storm. The kitchen staff looked at each other speechless. Cook joined the conversation, “Duchess, we can finish that for you if you’d like.”

  “No, I need to pound the dough into submission.” She laughed too loud. “That’s a figure of speech.” Nonetheless, she slammed her fists into the mixture and worked the dough.

  The dowager left, smiling.

  Chester came to Cassandra with the duke’s message. She rolled the piecrust and fitted the dough into a pan. “He’ll have to wait until I finish.” She went to the stove and tested the stone fruit mixture. “Needs more cinnamon,” she said, and added it.” She removed the hot pot to the work area, and prepared the mixture. She took a bottle of brandy from the shelf and poured half of it into the hot copper vessel and stirred vigorously. She added the other half of the liquor until it bubbled and reduced.

  The staff watched as she poured the whole pot into the pie pan, and then rolled out the top dough. “That ought to give him a jolt,” she muttered.

  Chester asked, “Do you have a message for his Grace?”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes upward. “Not one you can repeat.” One of the kitchen staff took the pie from her and placed it in the oven. “I’ll take care not to burn it, milady.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, removed the apron, and hung it on a hook. “Chester, when is his next dosage due?” she asked as she washed her hands and dried them on a clean towel.

  “In ten minutes, Duchess. Shall I help?” he asked.

  “No, I will come and minister to him one minute after the designated time.”

  The staff busied themselves as if they hadn’t heard the commentary.

  “Good day,” she said to them, walked out of the room and into the drawing room where she paced back and forth. How dare he embarrass her in front of everyone?

  She checked the long case clock and at precisely one minute after the appointed hour, she went to his room. Cassandra tapped on the door, and didn’t wait for him to tell her to enter. Posh on him.

  When she opened the door, he had his back to her. Cassandra’s heart burst from the magnificent sight of him dressed only in his breeches and boots. He looked every inch the man she knew and loved—just thinner.

  “I’m here to give you the medication as you requested.” She went to his side table where the quinine was kept and prepared the proper dosage. “Will you kindly sit and take two spoonfuls?”

  The duke followed her orders and dropped into a sturdy wood chair, accepted the first spoonful, and grimaced. “Foul stuff,” he muttered.

  “Just like your disposition.” She exhaled. “One more.” This time she administered the spoonful forcefully.

  “I deserved that,” he declared, but his hand reached for hers. He pulled her to him, and settled her on his lap. “I don’t have all my strength, so I’d appreciate if you don’t fight me. I’m told my disposition improves over time. If I hurt you, I apologize with utmost sincerity.”

  She stared at a wall, away from his needy eyes, knowing he’d be hard to resist.

  “Kindly look at me, Cassandra.” Gordon took his hand and turned her face to him. “When I awakened and didn’t see you, I thought you’d neglected me. I lashed out. It was unforgivable and so unworthy of all your care.” He kissed her forehead and whispered. “When I’m better, I will make it up to you in a special way.”

  “I don’t need more jewelry or dresses,” she whispered, and still avoided his eyes.

  “I wasn’t referring to fripperies, Cassandra. I thought of rather decadent things that only a healthy man can perform with the woman he loves.”

  “Silly me to forget you’re a rake.” She laughed. “I need you to be strong and well for our child. I accept your apology and I understand.”

  She looked at his pale color, and the dark circles under his eyes. “I don’t believe you should exert yourself so soon. Why not lay on the bed? Does the quinine make you drowsy? It’s occurred to me, I never had the opportunity to ask until now.”

  “At times, yes. It drains me of my effort to recover faster when I know I have an eager companion who waits for me.”

  She arose from the chair, “Come, Gordon. Rest on the lounge where you can recline if you so choose. I’ll look in on you from time to time. When you awaken next, the children would like to see you.”

  He followed her instructions reluctantly. “Don’t treat me like an invalid.”

  “Give yourself time, husband. By the way, I love your tattoo since I now know its history. You will have to tell the children of its power, and then flex your muscle. I guarantee Alfie will try to do the same without the tattoo.”

  “I am told you’ve made me a humble pie,” he jested.

  “News travels fast. Yes, I did. Would you like to know what’s in it?”

  “Dare I ask?” He allowed her to cover him on the lounge.

  “It’s a special flaky dough with brandied stone fruit. Lots of brandy. Lots of cinnamon. It’s very spicy. Did I mention it has lots of brandy?”

  “I take it a piece of the pie will make me tipsy?”

  “Probably, but you cannot taste it until you’re off your medication.”

  “You are a strict nurse. Remind me not to get sick again.” He rested his head back, closed his eyes, and dozed.

  Cassandra ran her fingers through his dark locks, kissed his forehead, and left the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Two Weeks Later in Brighton

  Cassandra sat first and he followed, a huge grin on his face. Yet she was apprehensive. How many times would this happen again? Were his harsh words a result of the malaria recurrence or was it how he truly felt? Was she just a token wife to be used at his pleasure? It was easy to doubt. She didn’t want to. She wanted to believe that she had redeemed him and that he truly loved her. Thoughts jumbled, and the offering in her hands, seemed so inadequate. Again, she’d buried her heart in the kitchen with a gift for him. Ungrateful lout that she loved.

  “Since your appetite has returned I brought you a freshly baked loaf of bread.”

  “I believe I’m back to normal and all my appetites are voracious.”

  “As are mine, Gordon. Here, let me slice a piece of this for you. Let me know if it’s how you prefer.” She slathered gooseberry preserves on it.

  Cassandra placed the morsel in his mouth; their gazes locked. With her other hand, she held a napkin to catch any dribbles.

  “I’ve missed this,” he said. “The bread is delicious, but it will be more enjoyable to lick that angel face of yours should the berry jam decide to overflow from your lips.”

  She climbed on his lap and pronounced, “Are you sure your strength has returned? Is it too soon to…”

  Both his arms encircled her hips. “I’ve missed our lovemaking. My appetite for you grows and grows, Cassandra.” She savored his lips when he rained kisses along her neck to the cleft of her throat and up again. Safely ensconced within his widened legs, she wiggled her derriere.

  “Perhaps we would be more comfortable with fewer clothes?” Her eyes stalked his every move.

  “Brilliant suggestion.” His voice was an inviting whisper. He scooped her up and walked to the four-poster bed.

  She giggled, as his hands untied his cravat, and he stripped to his waist with deftness. His boots followed suit. He came to her and stripped her bare, but with a gentle touch. “There, that’s how I wanted to remember you.” His eyes told her a story she’d longed to see.

  She arose and unbuttoned the fall of his pants and shrugged him of his clothes. Cassandra lay back onto the down pillows and opened her arms to him in invitation—at his full arousal. “My, my, husband, what a wonderful way to start my day.”

  �
�I shall accommodate your requests if my strength holds out.” His voice rasped.

  “We will make up for the times when the baby’s growth may limit us. The consolation is that time moves swiftly.” There was a lilt of laughter in her voice.

  “There are always other ways to pleasure each other. Fortunately, you know them.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and then laughed.

  “I didn’t think it possible to miss you, Cassandra. Don’t ever leave my side again. You are all mine.”

  “And I am yours,” she answered softly.

  “Be mine, forever.” Such a wicked smile.

  “We can be like this forever, if you like.”

  “I would like that, Gordon.”

  Much to her delight his hands continued their exploration.

  “And you belong to me, my duke. Don’t ever forget.”

  His need was urgent. “I never believed I could love a woman the way I do you. You’ve bewitched me in ways that hurt, as well as excite.”

  “I would prefer we are done with the hurt part, now about the excitement…” She snuggled against him, skin to skin, heart to heart, and her lips sought his hungrily.

  The passion burnt throughout her veins like a hot stream of water. She urged him on and when she covered his body with her kisses, she concentrated on his firm member soon held prisoner between her breasts. She reached for his silken shaft, and massaged the smooth column of flesh with her fingers and leaned down to graze his glistening crown.