My Divinely Decadent Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “Easy, love, too much of a good thing, and I won’t be able to wait. I’ve been a hungry man since my recovery.” She felt the velvet slide of his body down hers where he juxtaposed his manhood at her entrance. Just the touch of his tip sent her into orbit.

  “Oh, Gordon. Please.”

  “You don’t have to beg, my woman. How do you want me to please you?” It was more than a question.

  “Use your rakish skills on me and enter me with the whole length of you. You won’t hurt our child.”

  “Those skills have been replaced by the pure emotion I feel every time I am near you…”

  “Gordon, fill me. I’ve missed you so.”

  “Our need is great. It grows stronger with each plunge until I can bear…no more. Oh, Cassandra, you undo me.”

  “I like what you do to me. Oh, oh…Oh…don’t stop. Not now. More, give me more. Oh, yes, more is good.”

  He crashed with her and the world truly spun around them. His hands tightened around her posterior and she pulled him closer until he was seated to the hilt well within her womb. The elation, the glory, the wonder careened through them both in this special moment of intimacy.

  Her moans.

  His groans.

  Their breathless affirmations of love all served to devastate them with magic. Had someone just sprinkled them with pixie dust?

  She turned her backside into his groin, her breaths abated, and she fell asleep in his arms, content to be back where she belonged at long last.

  His hands around her breasts were gentle and comforted. She wanted to stay this way forever—safe, secure, and well loved.

  The room had cooled. Gordon pulled the cover over them. Lovemaking with Cassandra only got better and better. What a fortunate man to find such an eager wife. From what he’d heard, he should be careful about his zealousness, especially in the early months of her pregnancy. He would learn to control the fever within him for her body.

  His mind wandered to the past four months of their marriage. So much had happened in such a short time—the last being his reoccurrence of the malaria. Then all the questions that demanded answers.

  Gordon was honest with her about Tatenda, the native girl he once cared about. Honest about the guilt that he wasn’t there for his father and brother. Honest about the insecurity of inheriting the dukedom for which he was unprepared. She’d told him he shouldn’t harbor guilt. He had no choice. Remorse, yes. Regret, yes—but not guilt. He’d had no choice. Her words comforted him into belief.

  He arose, glanced again at Cassandra, still asleep. He could never see enough of her, the silly way she smiled when in reverie, the way she flailed her arm at him when listless, the way she calmed after he shooed away a bad dream, and snuggled closer to him. She was his world. There was no doubt about it.

  Refreshed, and no longer hungry, he went to his dressing room, put on the clothes his valet laid out. The duke quietly dressed, donned his boots, and left her asleep. The baby drained some of her energy, and he found she needed short naps.

  In his study, about to attempt some work, the nanny rushed in. Her eye was swollen and her cheek bruised. Chester stood beside her. “There is a problem, your Grace.”

  “I can see that. Have you fallen? What has happened, Nanny? Kindly sit.”

  All she could do was cry huge loud sobs and exhale deep breaths, “They came upon me. As I tended Alfie, one of the men took Alicia, and covered her screams. Before I could do anything, they shoved this note in my bosom and told me to be quiet, or they would kill Alicia.”

  She sat in the chair, wrung her hands. “They said they’d make their intentions clear and struck me twice.” She dropped to her knees. “Your Grace, there was nothing I could do. I grabbed Alfie and rushed here, through the kitchens, and left Alfie in Cook’s care.”

  “Chester, close the door. Then pour Nanny a brandy.”

  The majordomo reached for the decanter, did as told, and awaited further instructions.

  “Give me the note, Nanny.”

  She reached into her blouse and handed it to him.

  He read it and felt a rush of blood as his temples pounded. “Chester, send word to the Duke and Duchess of Ravensmere I require their attendance immediately on an urgent matter. Now,” he stressed. “Also, ask my brother-in-law Montgomery to attend me alone on an equally important matter.”

  His palms were clammy. His mind raced. He had to keep the information from Cassandra for a while. “Where is my wife?”

  “She is with the dowager, she learns how to crochet.”

  “My mother is learning how to crochet?”

  “Blankets and caps for the baby,” he whispered. “Also good for finger mobility.”

  The duke penned a quick note.

  Mother: Imperative you keep Cassandra with you. Do not let her leave your room until I summon you both. Do not display trepidation. Continue your crochet lesson. Make mistakes and make it believable. I have summoned help. Wait until you hear from me. Faint if you must, but do not overact. I will explain.

  Gordon.

  “Deliver this to my mother. If she attempts to have the Duchess read it to her, do not allow it. I don’t care how. Scowl if you have to. She will forgive you.”

  Chester scurried away and ascended the steps with a quick gait. Knocked on the dowager’s room and entered when told.

  He returned. “It is done as you instructed, your Grace.”

  “Take Nanny into the kitchen and summon the physician to treat her wound. If per chance my wife does come down, the servant is to say she fell and hurt herself. Does everyone understand?” he demanded.

  In a softer tone, he turned to the stricken woman, “Nanny, it’s not your fault you were overpowered. I will take care of everything. Soothe Alfie, he will be distraught.”

  He paced up and down like three aggressive caged tigers in heat that assessed each other in preparation for battle.

  Cassandra’s brother, Montgomery, was the first to arrive. He was shown into the duke’s study immediately. By now, the duke was calm and cool, like good Welsh steel. He motioned to the seat in front of him. His fingers tented his hands at his chin.

  “We have a dire circumstance, Montgomery. Nanny and the two children were in the park when they were accosted by thugs.”

  Stunned silence overcame the earl. “Alfie?”

  “Is in the kitchen with Nanny who was assaulted. He is well. If my wife comes in, we will stop our discussion. I’ve made every attempt to keep her occupied.”

  “You’re sure. I can see him?”

  “Yes. Yes. Let me finish.”

  “Alicia has been kidnapped. They ask £15,000 Sterling as ransom.” The earl’s shoulders slumped. “Such a large sum for your ward?”

  He arose from his chair. “We’ve been targeted. It could be your son next. We have to find the brigands and quickly. Chester!” he called. “Get me Morgan, head of the Bow Street Runners. Urgent. Tonight. I need him. Kidnap him if you have to. Also send this note to the Defence Ministry. I may need the Sacred Order of Saints.”

  “The Duke and Duchess of Ravensmere are here,” Chester said.

  “Show them in immediately.”

  They entered the room. Samantha was the first to ask, “What has happened to Cassandra? Has she lost the baby?” She removed her gloves and stamped her foot. “Oh, what is it, Althorn?”

  “Please sit, Samantha. I need your help. Ravensmere, Alicia has been kidnapped and the thugs demand £l5,000 Sterling in ransom.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “They were in the park and Nanny was overcome by them.” He spared no detail. “They didn’t hurt Alfie, but frankly, earl, I’m afraid he could be next. These damn newspaper articles have called attention to us.”

  He slammed his fist on the desk. “I’ve sent for the Bow Street Runners. My mother learns to crochet in the hope we can keep Cassandra occupied until you, Samantha, and she can calm my wife. I fear she could lose our child.”

  Samantha leane
d back into the chair and exhaled. “Who would do such a heinous deed to such a beautiful child?”

  “Someone who wanted to hurt Cassandra.” He looked to the earl.

  “If someone wanted to hurt me, they would have taken Alfie. He’s my heir.”

  “Precisely, so it would seem Cassandra has made an enemy. My association is too new to cause such an action.”

  “True,” Ravensmere answered.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Samantha.

  “I will ask my mother and Cassandra to the drawing room and will explain the situation. You and she will comfort her. Montgomery and I will assure my wife we will do everything in our power to secure her release. I’ll pay the damn £15,000 though I doubt they will stop at that. Blonde blue-eyed English girls are a prize to slavers.”

  Gordon’s off-chance remark pierced. He held their eyes. He suddenly was sure who was behind all this, who made the threats to Cassandra since he first met her. The earl’s wife, Felicity, retaliated because Cassandra informed Montgomery of the gossip and his wife’s treachery.

  Cassandra married Gordon to protect her ward. Now her worst fear was realized.

  They walked to the drawing room in utter silence, and gloom.

  Chester was dispatched.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Soon Cassandra and Lady Madelaine entered the room. His mother tried to sound aloof. “What is it Gordon that you disturbed my lessons in the art of crochet? I cannot believe I was so inept. Cassandra had years to learn in the Winston School on holidays and such when she had to occupy the many hours she was forced to spend alone.”

  “Please sit, Mother.”

  Samantha moved behind Cassandra as she took a sturdy chair.

  “This is difficult for me, ladies. I would ask you hear me out and do not panic.”

  Cassandra clutched at her chair. The dowager extended her hand to Cassandra and held it tightly. Samantha rested hers on her cousin’s shoulder.

  “Nanny was assaulted in the park. The perpetrators wounded her and kidnapped”—he took a deep breath—“Alicia.”

  Cassandra went to rise. “No. No. No. This couldn’t happen.” She was restrained, barely.

  Gordon went to her. “I will do all within my power to secure her release. Cassandra, trust me. Alicia has come to mean as much to me as she has to you. I will arrange the ransom money. Bow Street Runners and members of the Saints are on the way here. I need you to be calm, difficult as it may be, because you cannot endanger our child. Samantha and my mother will be with you. I will bring her back to you. I give you my word.” If she is still alive and not yet sold.

  Cassandra reached for her husband’s hands. “Gordon, please find them before she is sold to slavers.”

  The expression on her face worried him. “I am prepared to pay.” He settled his wife in the chair. “I will do all possible to secure her safety. Trust me on this.” He cupped her face in his hands. “She is part of my family and I hold her dear.”

  She moved her head to the side and tears rolled down her cheeks. Lady Madelaine handed her a handkerchief, and Cassandra dabbed her cheeks with one hand, her other hand over her stomach protectively. “I do trust you, Gordon. I feel strange. Who would want to hurt such a lovely child?” Then a flash of recognition crossed her face. “Brent? Could Felicity have…”

  Her brother spoke softly, “If it was, she will pay dearly for this outrage. Blame me, also, Althorn, for against my better wishes I let that woman rule my life. I will find out if I have to beat it out of her.”

  “No,” said Althorn. “We don’t want to go off half-cocked. The Runners and a few of the Saints will be here shortly. Cool heads are needed.” He looked to Chester. “Pour stiff drinks for the men. Summon tea for the ladies.”

  Chester rang the bell pull, poured drinks, and when a servant came, ordered mint tea for the women. Cassandra covered her mouth with her hands. She took quick breaths. “Gordon, please return Alicia to me unharmed.”

  “Us, Cassandra. You and me. You aren’t alone in this.” He held her eyes and smiled in a way that made his intention clear. “I know this is difficult for you. Kindly follow my instructions. There is enough pressure on me, on all of us. If I have to concern myself with your safety and the baby’s, it works against me. I’d like the three of you to stay here while the cadre of men I’ve assembled and I meet in my study.” He went to her. “We will find her alive. I give you my word, dearest. Wait here. I will return with Alicia in my arms. This I promise you.” Or die trying.

  Gordon motioned to the Duchess Samantha.

  “We will remain calm. Althorn, did you say a physician was in attendance? Perhaps he can prepare a harmless draught for Cassandra to calm her nerves?”

  “Good thought, my lady.” Chester was given the instructions.

  The men departed to the study.

  The physician entered, was advised of the situation. From his black bag he prepared an herbal potion, and assured the couple it wouldn’t hurt the babe. “It should make her drowsy, but not enough to encourage a full deep sleep. I won’t give her any laudanum.” The doctor asked, “A word with you outside, your Grace?”

  Unrequested, Samantha arose and went with the duke.

  “She’s early in her second trimester, about four months by my calculation. It will be helpful if her stress level is reduced. The potion will help, but any bad news should be kept from her. It can trigger a miscarriage.”

  “I will take care of her,” Samantha said. “Send me notes if at all possible, and I’ll handle all with consideration for her condition.”

  “Thank you.” Althorn kissed her hand.

  “You’re welcome, you rogue. I love her, too. Now go find Alicia.” She walked back to the ladies.

  Althorn secretly blessed her demeanor and then left.

  Samantha fluttered about and spoke to Cassandra, “I do believe you might be drowsy, my dear. Why not recline on the lounge where you can nod off?” Cassandra arose and was led to the chaise and settled there. “I envy you, Cassandra. There’s a baby on the way and time to sit and have us care for you. Enjoy it, my dear.” Samantha laughed and held her cousin’s hand. “I might add, you have a husband who adores you and is concerned. At this particular moment, if you asked, I do believe he would pluck the moon for you.”

  “I don’t need the moon.”

  Samantha patted her cousin’s hand. “Speaking of the moon, I came across an old saying while I was studying the stars, ‘The sun loved the moon so much, he died each night so she could breathe.’”

  “That’s beautiful,” Cassandra daydreamed. “Wherever did you see it?”

  “It’s a very old poem, it seems. Written By:* Lokesh Fouzdar (Pleiades 513). It took me a good time to research. Isn’t it profoundly romantic?”

  Cassandra sighed at the lovely thought. “Gordon might whisper such to me.”

  “I had in mind to have it included in the poetry lessons at my school for young ladies,” Samantha said.

  “Utterly divine. It makes me want to die for love, too.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Cassandra, but it does stir my heart. I can see, my dearest, you are much in love. Tell me about Gordon.”

  She and Lady Madelaine listened with interest until Cassandra nodded off.

  ****

  “Thank you all for your assistance,” Gordon said. “It’s a difficult task because we don’t know who perpetrated this kidnap, however, we have a solid idea of who masterminded the plan.”

  He explained his suspicions to all. “Montgomery, go with the two Sacred Order of Mortal Saints to the theatre. Find the actor, Lawrence Acton, either there or at the hotel nearby, and beat him within an inch of his life if he does not confess his deed. If you run into your wife, subdue and handcuff her and bring her to the constabulary under my orders. She isn’t to be released for any reason. Though she may deserve it, don’t harm her. Do you agree?”

  “Of course, I’m not a dolt. I’d be glad to see her rot in priso
n for her infidelity and revenge on the poor child who has done naught to deserve such hatred.”

  Montgomery motioned to the Saints. “Let’s leave at once. We will return here when we have obtained the needed information. Alicia could be held anywhere.”

  They left with dispatch.

  Morgan, head of the Bow Street Runners, spoke. “Your Grace, I have stationed guards at all entrances of the villa. Two will be outside the main entrance, armed and ready.”

  “Good. Let’s assume Montgomery will be successful in his mission. Now this is what we will do.” He strategized and each of the men offered comments. After an hour or so, Montgomery returned with Lawrence Acton in tow, handcuffed and—bruised.

  “This blighter hired the thugs and paid them at my wife’s instigation. There is a cottage where the child is held. It’s on the north-most corner of your land, Althorn. I’ve taken the liberty to summon our carriages, as many as needed. They await outside.”

  Gordon went to his map case, removed one, and pointed to a spot where the cottage was located. “Difficult to reach. We may have to leave the coaches and approach on foot. My people rarely use this cabin. Ocean at their back, boulders in the front where they can hide behind and shoot at us while we approach. Let’s reconsider our plan.”

  “What about him?” One of the men pointed at the battered man.

  “Althorn has a small jail in town. We can deposit him there until we’re prepared to ship him off to Newgate in London. Assign someone to keep watch over him.” Montgomery spoke with the utmost pleasure.

  “There they will make good use of his talents, but they won’t be for his performance as an actor.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  With Althorn in the lead, the cadre of men entered the carriages. He brought Runt, Alicia’s dog, with them should the bloodhound be needed to discover the child’s trail. He was grateful that all the dogs were specially trained by his head stable groom to track any scent of a human. Runt, even though young, could be of good use.

  The footmen were dressed in dark capes, two men on the board of each coach. After they traveled for twenty minutes, the drivers stopped in front of a narrow foot road. There was still enough daylight as the group of men departed and walked up the curved uphill path. Althorn instructed one of the footmen, “When you hear my whistle, bring the dog to me. It will mean we have secured the place. If Alicia is anywhere in the cottage, Runt will find her.” He thanked God for all the times the children and Runt played games where Runt and Giant had to find Alicia and Alfie.