The Decadent Duke

by Virginia Henley

  Suddenly, she seemed to become aware of the others at the table. "I am monopolizing your guest. Do forgive me.’’

  John heard her compliment her sister on the food—something about the curried prawns—and for the first time he became aware of what he was eating.

  When she withdrew her attention from him, he felt the loss acutely. Then he cursed himself for a gullible fool. He had been captivated by her feminine wiles. She had deliberately lured him to talk about himself, playing him on the end of her line like a trout. John was amazed that he had ever taken her for a little girl. She was as age-old as the temptress Eve.

  The ladies began to talk about their sister Louisa’s wedding and some of the guests who had attended. "I’m so glad that Lord and Lady Holland accepted the invitation. I admire Beth so much. She showed great courage ignoring the gossips, and she wasn’t the least jealous when Henry partnered me in the Scottish reels.’’

  "Lord Holland is a good friend of mine,’’ John declared.

  Georgina once more gave him her attention. "Henry is a great sport and he has such charming manners.’’

  You are hinting that I have neither charm nor manners.

  "I met another charming gentleman at the wedding. The Duke of Bedford begged my brother, Huntly, for an introduction.’’

  "My brother, Francis, is a great favorite with the ladies.’’

  "Ah, if his reputation is racy, that explains why my brother refused the introduction.’’

  Francis’s taste in the opposite sex runs to older, vastly experienced married women. It is unthinkable that he would compromise an innocent young lady, no matter how flirtatious she acted . . . at least, I hope it is unthinkable.

  "I am to make my debut into society soon. I promised His Grace of Bedford that when I came out, I would be delighted to make his acquaintance.’’ Her eyes glittered with mischief.

  "You are incorrigible,’’ he murmured.

  "Flattery, begod! Charlotte, you owe me a guinea.’’ John’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He wanted to put the little hellcat over his knee and tan her arse.

  To fill the ominous silence, Charles jumped in and changed the subject to horses. "Why don’t we let your son Francis try out the horse we looked at, to see if it’s a good match?’’

  "An excellent suggestion,’’ John agreed, turning away from the spoiled young beauty who had amused herself throughout lunch by deliberately baiting him.

  The moment dessert was finished, Georgina stood up. "As always, you set a delightful table, Charlotte. The food was delicious and the conversation stimulating. I’m off to help the children play havoc.’’

  "A pastime that suits you to perfection,’’ Charlotte said dryly.

  Georgina ran upstairs to change her clothes before she went back outside. She glanced in the mirror at the elegant apricot morning gown. "You served your purpose in showing the old man that I’m a grown woman, but it’s back in the wardrobe for you. I refuse to spend the afternoon in a corset.’’

  When she emerged onto the lawn, wearing her old riding skirt, the servants were removing the remnants of the picnic. "Where is everyone?’’ she asked Mary.

  "The nursemaids have taken the babies for their nap.’’

  Johnny looked up from the pug dog he was feeding. "My brothers have gone with Father and Lord Lennox to try out a horse, my lady.’’

  "Call me Georgy. All those in favor of a boat race on the carp pond, say aye, aye, Captain.’’

  "I want to be captain,’’ Charlie asserted. "Let’s be pirates.’’

  "I want to be captain,’’ Mary argued.

  "You can all be captains. Charlie can be Captain Cutlass, Mary can be Captain Contrary, and Johnny can be Captain Cutthroat.’’

  Johnny smiled shyly, clearly pleased with his name.

  "What about you, Georgy? Who will you be?’’ Charlie asked.

  "I’ll be Captain Cuspidor.’’ She spat on the grass, and the boys roared with laughter.

  "I’ll go and get my boats,’’ Charlie offered.

  "Why don’t we make our boats? There’s lots of stuff that floats.’’ She produced a knife from her pocket, and the three children were off and running to the trees. They found a half-rotted log and Charlie broke off a piece of wood for his boat.

  "I’d like a piece of bark for mine. It might be lighter and faster,’’ Johnny said.

  When Georgina handed him her knife so he could cut it, he looked thrilled to bits.

  Mary found an abandoned bird’s nest and insisted on using it for her boat even when Georgina warned it might not float. "I’m Captain Contrary ... don’t argue with me!’’

  They used twigs for masts and leaves for sails, and Mary filled her nest with hawthorn berries.

  "I need a cutlass,’’ Charlie informed Georgy.

  "As does Captain Cutthroat.’’ She cut some branches and stripped off their leaves.

  "You have to spit every time you speak, Captain Cuspidor,’’ Mary reminded her.

  They carried their pirate ships out to the carp pond for the contest. The boys made waves to carry their crafts on the current. In less than half an hour, Mary’s vessel sank, but when the little red berries bravely floated on, she took it well.

  The two boys doubled their efforts to win, banging their cutlasses on the water to create giant waves. When it turned out to be a draw, the race became a sea battle that thoroughly drenched the two male captains. Mary joined Georgy in urging them on to victory, alternately cheering and spitting.

  When their games were done and the children had wrung every last ounce of fun out of the afternoon, Georgina led the way back to the house. Charlotte rolled her eyes when she saw their bedraggled state.

  "We need a fire. How about the library?’’ Georgina asked.

  "By all means—once you have removed your soggy shoes. I’ll get some dry clothes.’’

  All four removed their shoes and carried them to the library.

  "John, how would you like the honor of kindling the fire?’’

  John’s eyes lit up at the mere thought of such an adult responsibility. Charlotte arrived with dry clothes, deposited them inside the door, and quickly departed.

  Georgina removed her stockings, and the children followed suit. She promised to hide her eyes and vowed not to peek while the boys changed into dry shirts and pants. When they were all sprawled comfortably around the fire, Georgina said, "How about a story? These library shelves are filled with great adventures.’’

  The afternoon light was leaving the sky by the time the men and older boys returned from their ride. Francis was overjoyed that his father had purchased the horse for him, and William had high hopes that his father would soon consider a new mount for him.

  John Russell thanked Charlotte for a lovely day. "It was most generous of you to entertain Johnny. Where might I find him?’’

  "It was our pleasure. Come again, anytime.’’ She pointed down the hallway. "You’ll find him in the library.’’

  John heard his son’s voice before he got to the library door. Johnny was reading aloud from Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe while his audience sat before the fire, mesmerized by his words.

  John’s glance was drawn to Georgina. The rapt look on her face as she listened to his young son showed that she was enraptured by the way he read the fascinating tale.

  Georgina was the first to notice John Russell standing quietly in the doorway. "John, your father is here. Thank you so much for entertaining us. You read better than many adults I know.’’

  Reluctantly, Johnny closed the book and handed it to Georgina.

  She gathered up his dry clothes and handed them to his father.

  "I’m sorry, my lord. We were playing in water again, in spite of the fact that I know you thoroughly disapprove of such wicked, wanton pleasures.’’

  He knew her words were chosen to provoke him, so rather than react to the provocation, he merely took the clothes and nodded politely. He hid his amusement when he saw a fleeting g
limpse of disappointment cross her face because she had not been able to goad him into an angry retort.

  On the ride home, John hung on to his youngest son’s reins.

  "I had a wonderful time, Father. Georgy is such fun.’’

  "You mustn’t call her that. Her name is Lady Georgina.’’

  "Yes, I know. But she doesn’t seem like a lady.’’

  "Indeed, she does not.’’ She is an outrageous minx.

  Chapter 5

  John Russell fought to keep his fury under control. "As soon as I opened the bedchamber door, the smell of laudanum hit me in the face. Gertrude, did I not expressly forbid you to feed my wife any more of the filthy stuff?’’ he demanded.

  "My lord, I swear I did not give it to her.’’

  "Yes, it’s enough to make anyone swear,’’ he said curtly. His wife’s maid looked terrified of being dismissed on the spot. "Very well, I’ll take care of it.’’

  He went back upstairs to his wife’s chamber and began to search. He opened every bureau drawer and every cabinet. He looked in the cupboard of the night table and the washstand. He opened her wardrobe and searched every pocket of every garment. When he found the brown bottle in one of her hatboxes, he uttered a foul oath.

  He crossed to the bed and stared down at the sleeping figure of his wife. She looked pale and ethereal, like a saint with her eyelids closed in gentle repose. The doctor suspects she is consumptive. He would never dream that such a respectable lady is an addict. John paced the room, debating what he should do.

  He considered asking his wife’s sisters for advice. Lucy, Baroness Bradford, might be persuaded to come for a short visit. He could send a note to Park Lane, but Lucy was most likely at Bradford-on-Avon this summer, rather than her London town house.

  Isabelle, her other sister, was the Marchioness of Bath. She was likely at Longleat for the summer. How could I confide my wife’s secret to her straitlaced sister Isabelle? She considers any hint of scandal worse than being buried alive.

  The only one I can confide in is my brother, Francis. There’s little that shocks him. I’ll take the boys to Woburn—it will get them away from here for a few days. I’ll get a nurse to watch over Elizabeth. It’s obvious Gertrude cannot stand up to her.

  "Good God, that carriage looks like it’s in a chariot race. Who the devil could be arriving at this hour of the morning?’’ Charlotte and Georgina were in the stillroom adjacent to the conservatory, making perfume from summer roses and jasmine.

  Georgina went to the door for a better look. "I’m afraid it’s Mother. Gird your loins, she looks as if she’s on the warpath.’’ The sisters hurried through the conservatory and made their way to the reception hall.

  Jane Gordon strode through the front door and brushed aside the footman. She needed no fool servant to announce her. She threw off her cloak, but kept on her beribboned bonnet, which now sat at a cockeyed angle due to her haste.

  "I’m ruined! I shall be a laughingstock! As the leading Tory hostess, I am being held up to ridicule by this jackanapes!’’

  "What? How? Who?’’ Charlotte followed her mother into the sitting room, and Georgina tried not to laugh at the comic scene.

  "This!’’ With a melodramatic flourish, she thrust a book at them. She was panting with outrage, and her face had turned a florid red that clashed alarmingly with the purple of her bonnet.

  Georgina took the book. "A Winter in London by T. S. Surr.’’

  "I willna’ stand fer it!’’ Jane screeched, lapsing into Scottish brogue.

  "Then sit, Mama,’’ Charlotte urged dryly.

  Jane paced across the room, turned and paced back. "I’ll ne’er sit again until the swine is brought to justice. Devil take the wretch. If I were a mon, I’d challenge him to a duel!’’

  Georgina opened the book and began to read aloud. "When the Duchess of Drinkwater appeared on the London scene, the Duchess of Belgrave was not amused.’’ She grasped immediately that it was a satirical novel. Mother recognizes herself as the Duchess of Drinkwater.

  "Go on ... read it!’’ Jane’s hat tilted over one eye.

  "The Duchess of Drinkwater appeared upon the field of fashion and threw down the gauntlet of defiance to Belgrave: an event which produced upon the fashionable world an effect precisely similar to that which the natural world sustains from the convulsion of an earthquake; or which the moral world experienced from the French revolution.

  ’’Before this challenge was given, to have doubted that the will of Belgrave was the law of fashion would have been deemed an abrogation of loyalty itself. What, then, must have been the surprise, the horror of a people cherishing such sentiments when they beheld the Duchess of Drinkwater erecting her standard of revolt against the object of their allegiance and their worship, and promulgating with undaunted zeal a code and creed diametrically opposite to the principles of their former obedience and faith.”

  Jane snatched the book from her daughter and pushed her hat back from her eye. “Listen to this: The duchesses never met without betraying some signs of approaching hostilities. The patroness of reels cracked the shoulder straps of sixteen dresses by exercising herself in shrugs at the Duchess of Belgrave. At length the war was openly declared by both parties, and the first blow was struck by the Duchess of Drinkwater, who gave a grand gala the same night on which her rival had previously announced one.” She slammed the book closed. “There is no rivalry between the Duchess of Devonshire and myself. We are the dearest of friends! How dare the miscreant write such slanderous codswallop?”

  “I don’t think anyone will recognize you,” Georgina said in her most reassuring tone.

  “He called me the patroness of reels fer Christ’s sake!”

  “There is that,” Georgina acknowledged.

  “He casts you in a better light than the Duchess of Devonshire. She clearly comes off the loser,”Charlotte assured her.

  “Do you think so?”Jane asked, trying to see it through the critical eyes of society.

  “Put it on the back of the fire, and dismiss it as scurrilous tripe. Then go to the theater, and hold your head up high. Better yet, attend one of the Duchess of Devonshire’s entertainments,”Charlotte advised.

  Georgina gasped as her mother threw the novel into the fire.

  “Georgy, pack yer things. We shall do both.”

  “But Susan invited me to Kimbolton,” Georgina protested.

  “The entertainments the Duke and Duchess of Manchester give at Kimbolton are far too sophisticated fer you. Their guests are allowed uninhibited freedom of speech and action, and illicit liaisons are encouraged. You may visit them once you have been introduced at court, but until then a sojourn at Kimbolton Castle could very easily sully yer reputation.”

  With a sigh of exasperation, Georgina gave in to her mother’s demand. “I’ll go upstairs and pack.”

  Charlotte followed her sister from the sitting room. “Why the devil did you tell her to throw it on the fire?” Georgina asked. “I was dying to read it!”

  “I have a copy in my bedchamber. I’ll lend it to you, but you must promise to give it back once you’ve read it.”

  “You devious witch! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It could very easily sully yer reputation,” Charlotte teased.

  Mary arrived in the pink bedchamber, breathless from her hurried climb upstairs. “I don’t want you to leave, Georgy!”

  “If you were listening behind the sitting room door, as I suspect, you must know that Grandmama gave me no choice.”

  “Who is the Duchess of Drinkwater?” Mary whispered.

  Georgina removed her garments from the wardrobe and began to fold them. “She is a Titan who must be obeyed.”

  “It’s Grandmama, isn’t it?”

  Georgina nodded. “But you must promise not to tell anyone.”

  Mary crossed her heart. “It will be our deep, dark secret.”

  The Duchess of Gordon, decked out in a fashionable gown of striped crêpe de c
hine, her hair decorated with bejeweled feathers, stepped from her carriage in the Haymarket. Georgina followed, wearing a simple empire gown of white gauze over green with a matching wrap. Her dark curls were piled high and held in place by green ribbon and a jeweled dragonfly.

  They entered the King’s Theatre. With her head held high, the Duchess of Gordon led the way to her private ground-floor box, where mother and daughter took their seats.

  “I don’t think you’ll enjoy this Mozart opera, Mother. La Clemenza de Tito is a dark tale about a woman who plots the assassination of the Roman emperor Titus.”

  “I am here to be seen, not to enjoy the opera. It’s all in Italian anyway—I shan’t understand a word, nor will many of the haut ton, believe me.”

  “I don’t think you’ll find many ladies of the ton here tonight. Only true aficionados of opera will be stoic enough for this one.”

  “Why, there’s Prime Minister Pitt. There is such a refined elegance in his taste.” Jane raised her chin, smiled archly, and was most gratified when William Pitt graciously stood and bowed his head in acknowledgment.

  Just as the overture began, the Prince of Wales and his good friend Charles James Fox entered the royal box, which was directly opposite the Gordons’ box.

  “Oh, how very fortunate I chose to wear the Prince of Wales’s feathers tonight. You are quite wrong, Georgina. I am enjoying the opera immensely.”

  Georgina amused herself by watching the audience and counting the number of patrons who dozed off. She had almost given herself up to the arms of Morpheus when the burning of the Roman capital revived her.

  When her mother saw Prinny’s fervent applause, she began to clap with great enthusiasm. “The Prince of Wales is often censured for his profligate habits, but there is no denying that his taste in the arts is perfection itself.”

  Georgina gathered her fan and her wrap and stood to leave.

  “There’s no hurry, dear. We must time things so we will meet the prince in the foyer.”

  “In that case I have time for another snooze. It will take both Prinny and Fox an aeon to navigate their bulk from the royal box to the theater lobby.”