The Decadent Duke

by Virginia Henley

  The duke is completely enamored, and so hungry to have her that he is willing to meet all her demands, and vows to end his affair with his mistress Marianna Palmer. Francis informs us that when he returns to London, he intends to make a formal call upon you in Pall Mall and then announce their engagement publicly.

  Congratulations, Mother. Yet another daughter is about to attain the rank of duchess.

  Your loving daughter,

  Susan, Duchess of Manchester

  Jane sat down quickly, quite overcome with her achievement. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she reread the letter. My clever little Georgy. Daughters are such a blessing!

  John Russell left the benches of the House of Commons in disgust. He turned when he heard Henry, Lord Holland, call his name. “Attendance today was shameful. You and I have been here every session this week, but where the hell are the other members?”

  “It’s mid-February and nothing has been done since we broke for Christmas. The members should have returned by now. Perhaps the early spring has enticed them to remain at their country estates.”

  John thought of his brother. Something was keeping him at Woburn, but John suspected it was visits to Kimbolton rather than spring that was attracting him. He expected Francis to return to London any day, announcing he’d asked Georgina Gordon to marry him. John dreaded the news. Contemplating such a match was anathema to him. He deliberately thrust the thought away and returned to his conversation with Henry.

  “I believe the problem lies with Henry Addington. I warrant neither Whigs nor Tories want to serve under him.”

  “When Pitt was prime minister the benches were always filled.”

  “That’s because the members of both parties respected him.”

  Henry sighed. “Perhaps in time they will accept Addington.V

  “Never! You are deluding yourself. There is a solution.” He gave his friend a speculative look. “We could ask Addington for a private meeting, tell him bluntly how matters stand, and ask him to resign for the good of the country.”

  “Ask the prime minister of England to resign? That would take a great deal of courage.”

  John laughed. “I’ll do the asking, if you will accompany me.”

  “I’ll willingly act as your silent partner.”

  “Thank you, Henry. I knew I could count on you. I’ll formally request a private meeting with him, and start work on a speech that will move the man to tears and persuade him to step down so that Pitt can be reinstated.”

  That night, when John began to make notes of what he would say to Addington, thoughts of Georgina stole to him and filled his senses. For the first time he admitted how much the vibrant young beauty attracted him. After the bleak years of his marriage, he secretly hungered for a vivacious companion who was filled with laughter and a passion for life. The minute I was free, I should have gone to her and told her how I felt, instead of pushing her away. He cursed himself for a fool. Now it’s too late. Francis will capture the prize! Shame washed over him that he was jealous of his brother. He resolved to put an end to his yearning for what could never be. Thou shalt not covet thy brother’s wife.

  Francis Russell was in no hurry to leave Woburn. Because his towering pride would not allow Georgina Gordon to thwart him, he had made up his mind to have her at any cost. But the price was high. The thought of giving up Marianna Palmer filled him with frustration and made him feel impotent. Luckily, there was a cure close at hand. To restore his manhood, and prove his virility, he had turned to Molly Hill.

  “Francis, you’re early tonight. I haven’t finished dinner.”

  “Stand up, Molly. I have a raging appetite that needs satisfying.” His riding crop swept the dishes from the table.

  She was used to servicing his sexual needs in odd places, whenever the desire came upon him. They often went for bruising gallops across his fields, where he would abruptly draw rein, pull her from the saddle, and mount her beneath a hedge on the hard ground. But lately his lust had increased alarmingly, and his demands were taking a toll on both of them. Last night’s bed sport had begun well enough, but he had been unable to stay hard. For hours, she had tried to satisfy the duke’s frenzied demands, using her fingers and her mouth to stimulate him, but nothing she did produced the results he desired.

  Molly watched him open his breeches and saw his cock spring up, ready for action. “You are insatiable, Your Grace.”

  Francis bent her over the table and flung up her skirts. He thrust himself inside her and scythed in and out with a vengeance. Though he kept at it doggedly, his shaft became flaccid, and when he could not spend, he cursed savagely.

  Molly had run a London brothel in her younger days. Nothing shocked her, and she knew all the tricks of the trade. “Francis, you need release. I will find a way to give it to you.”

  He grudgingly withdrew, and Molly rolled off the table. She went to a cabinet, measured a liberal amount of powdered dog’s mercury into a glass, and filled it with brandy.

  Within half an hour of consuming the potion, the duke’s cock began to swell. Molly helped him disrobe and led him to her high bed. He climbed on and lay down, watching impatiently as she undressed. Her breasts were huge and bounced about like balloons. Her thighs were thick and firm with saddle muscles from her frequent riding. “Lie prone, so I can give you a rubdown.”

  Molly poured some scented oil on her hands, and began to massage his buttocks. Her palms moved in ever smaller, tighter circles. Then she slid a polished ivory rod into the cleft between his bum cheeks. His entire groin began to throb, and he arched his bottom off the bed. “Christ, that feels good. I’m randy as a stallion. Lie down and open your legs—I don’t want to waste it.”

  Molly spread herself on the bed. He mounted her and began to buck and thrust like a wild bull. He achieved a hard, throbbing climax and moaned, “Christ Almighty, it was over too fast.”

  When he collapsed onto her, she sighed with relief. “Don’t move. Just close your eyes, and you’ll be asleep in no time.”

  In less than ten minutes his shaft turned as hard as marble, and the head of his cock began to pulse. Molly realized with dismay that she’d given him too much of the herbal stimulant. She’d known cases where the effects had lasted for days.

  He mounted her again for a lengthy ride, and when she’d had enough she brought him to climax by manipulating the polished ivory rod. By midnight, Francis had never felt as potent and virile in his life. He had the sexual stamina of ten men. Eventually, he fell into a deep sleep filled with erotic dreams, and when he awoke in the small hours of the morning, he was ready to start all over again.

  After he had made use of every orifice on Molly’s body he began to feel sated. He hauled her up from the floor and lifted her onto the bed for one last tumble. He fell on her like a ravening beast, biting her breasts. Then he rose up and took his cock in his hand. But before he could plunge down, a scream erupted from his throat; he brought his knees up to his belly and rolled in agony on the bed.

  “What is it, Francis?” Alarmed, Molly jumped off the bed.

  “Christ!” He pressed both hands to his groin. “It’s my bloody hernia!” He moaned, tried to rise, and fell back in terrible pain. Slowly, he lifted his hands to reveal a swollen lump protruding from his abdomen. He pressed his hands back to his belly and cried, “Go and get Mr. Burke. Hurry! I’m in agony!”

  “Burke, thank Christ! Get me up to the house—I need a doctor. The pain is excruciating!” Francis groaned uncontrollably.

  One glance at the naked man rolling on the bed told him that the duke was in dire straits and needed help. Burke immediately took charge. “Mrs. Hill, get a footman down here and tell the head groom to ride into town for Dr. Halifax.V

  Burke looked around the plush chamber and spotted a lacquered bamboo screen that would make do as a stretcher. He removed one of the panels, brought it to the bed, and lifted the tortured man onto it. He covered Francis with a blanket, and when the footman arrived, they carr
ied their writhing, moaning burden up to the house and deposited him on his own bed.

  Amid screams and curses, Mr. Burke washed Francis, dressed him in a freshly laundered nightshirt, and propped him up with pillows. Then he poured him a large brandy, hoping to ease his suffering until medical help arrived.

  Within the hour, the duke’s physician appeared, and Mr. Burke led him upstairs. “His Grace is in agony, Dr. Halifax. He suffered an injury while playing a strenuous game of tennis. We managed to carry him up to bed, but he has been writhing in pain since the unfortunate incident occurred.”

  Halifax could see for himself that Francis was in acute misery. He raised the duke’s nightshirt and saw the protrusion on his abdomen. “Good God, Bedford, you’ve twisted your bowel!V

  “For Christ’s sake, help me, Halifax!V

  “I’ll give you something to ease your pain.” He took a bottle of laudanum from his leather bag and handed it to Mr. Burke, who immediately administered a dose. The doctor waited a minute or two for the opiate to start working, then gently placed his hand on the swollen bulge.

  Francis screamed.

  The expression on the doctor’s face turned grave. “This is an extremely serious matter, Your Grace. I’m afraid I shall have to call in a colleague who has experience in internal medicine.”

  “No! I can’t wait. Untwist the damn thing—you cannot put me in any more agony than I am in now,” Francis cried.

  “It cannot be corrected from the outside. You need an operation that must be performed by a surgeon, Your Grace.”

  “Operation?” Bedford’s eyes filled with fear.

  “I have a colleague in Northampton who is a renowned surgeon. I’ll summon Dr. Kerr immediately. You may put your trust in him.”

  “No! I’ll not see the damned sawbones.” He drew up his knees, trying to relieve his misery. “Nobody is going to cut me open!”

  Chapter 22

  John Russell fell in step with Lord Holland as they left the floor of the House. “Prime Minister Addington has given us an appointment in his private chambers for four o’clock tomorrow afternoon, after the session.V

  “He’s in for a shock, I’m afraid.”

  “The situation is untenable. By now, even he must realize he doesn’t have the qualities necessary to lead the government.”

  Henry grinned. “I warrant he’ll realize it once you catalogue his shortcomings.”

  “Join me for dinner. I’ll practice my speech on you.”

  When the two men arrived at Russell Square, John found a messenger from Woburn awaiting him. A feeling of dread assuaged him as his brother’s servant handed him the letter.

  Devil take you, Francis. I don’t want to read this, if you are sending me news of your engagement to Georgina.

  John opened it with reluctance, but he saw immediately that it was not from Francis. “It’s from Mr. Burke.”

  Lord Tavistock:

  I am taking it upon myself to send you this urgent message. Yesterday, your brother suffered an injury and is in acute pain. Dr. Halifax diagnosed the protrusion in his abdomen as a twisted bowel and insists a surgeon is necessary. Over the duke’s objection, he has sent to Northampton for his colleague.

  I fear His Grace may refuse to see the surgeon. Halifax administered a sedative, which has only partially relieved his agonizing distress. It is my opinion that your brother is in no fit state to make medical decisions. We would all benefit from your presence. We need someone with a cool head who will take charge and convince him to take the doctor’s advice—someone who is not afraid to overrule the Duke of Bedford’s authority.

  James Burke, Steward

  “I’ll come at once,”John told the messenger. A vision of Francis the day he had beaten him at tennis flashed into his mind, and he felt remorseful. He handed the letter to Henry.

  “I’ll come with you.” Holland scribbled a note to his wife, and John dispatched a Russell footman to deliver it.

  John drove his phaeton to Woburn at top speed, covering the forty miles from London in record time. When he arrived, he could see Mr. Burke’s relief was palpable.

  “Lord Tavistock, I am most grateful you have come.” He glanced at Henry. “I’m sorry, Lord Holland, but His Grace refuses to see anyone.”

  “No, no, I’m here for John. Don’t worry about me.”

  As Mr. Burke ascended the magnificent staircase with John, he confided, “Dr. Kerr, the surgeon, arrived from Northampton two hours ago, but His Grace adamantly refuses to see him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I put him in a chamber in the main wing and sent up dinner.”

  “I’ll speak with him once I’ve seen Francis.”

  John opened his brother’s door and strode to the bed.

  “John, thank Christ!” Francis pulled down the bedclothes and lifted his nightshirt. “Just look at this bloody bulge.”

  John was shocked at the size of the protrusion, but he schooled his face to hide his alarm from his brother.

  Dr. Halifax stepped forward. “My lord, I have given His Grace an opiate to lessen his pain, but that is the extent of my expertise. I have called in a surgeon, but ...V

  “They want to operate! I’ll have none of it!”

  “Doctor, I’d like a word alone with my brother.” John waited until the doctor withdrew and closed the door. He knew Francis had a willful, stubborn streak, but for his own good, John knew he must persuade him to listen to reason. “Halifax is not qualified to treat this condition, Francis. The man is out of his depth. The doctor who has been called in from Northampton is familiar with this type of injury. We need his diagnosis. It only makes sense to have a second opinion.”

  Francis groaned with frustration and with pain. “I’ll let him look, but you stay here with me. I won’t be cut open.”

  John went to the door and asked Halifax to bring in Kerr. The surgeon introduced himself, then examined the patient. John had to steel himself. Francis writhed in agony as Dr. Kerr placed his hands on the tender bulge and felt all around it with his fingers.

  “Your Grace, Dr. Halifax is correct in his diagnosis of twisted bowel. The medical term for this condition is strangulated hernia. A loop of bowel has broken through a weak area in the wall of the abdomen, and it is being pinched and squeezed to an unbearable degree. Nothing could be more painful. Unfortunately, it cannot be corrected without surgery.”

  “No! If they cut me open, I’ll die! Help me, John.”

  John felt his brother’s suffering, and his fear, and wished with all his heart he could take them away. He felt extremely protective toward him. Francis had never known adversity and was ill equipped to handle it. “I’ll talk with the doctors. Try not to shout, Francis. It will only worsen your pain.” He led the doctors from the room so he could have a frank discussion about his brother’s terrible plight.

  “I must operate without delay,VDr. Kerr said emphatically. “It is the only solution.”

  John, though greatly alarmed, was inclined to agree with the surgeon. “Tell me what is involved, Doctor.” He listened intently to everything they said. After asking some questions, he returned to his brother’s side. He sat down in a chair, hoping to create a calm atmosphere while he had a quiet talk with Francis.

  “The operation you need is not overly dangerous. It has been successfully performed many times. It is a simple matter of gently pushing the protruding bowel back in place and stitching up the hole. Francis, you are a man in your prime who enjoys excellent health, and you will undoubtedly heal quickly.”

  “I’d rather leave it alone and see if it goes back on its own,” Francis gasped, stubbornly refusing to take anyone’s advice.

  At least he’s no longer shouting no at the top of his lungs. “Delaying the procedure is far more dangerous than the operation itself,” John explained quietly, still trying to convince him.

  “How so?” Francis demanded, his face gray with pain.

  John, loath to add to his brother’s terror by describing
in graphic detail how a strangulated bowel could easily burst, took a more persuasive tack. “The pain will get steadily worse. Your body will weaken. The operation is sure to relieve your agony.”

  “Let’s wait and see. I can put up with it awhile longer.”

  John could see that his paralyzing fear took precedence over his suffering. Poor Francis—a long night of agony will surely change your mind. “I’ll have the doctor give you another dose of painkiller, and I’ll stay here with you tonight. Perhaps you’ll be better able to make a decision in the morning.”

  Once the opiate took effect, Francis stopped moaning and rolling about the bed, and for a short time he dozed. John sat vigil, knowing the inevitable decision had only been postponed. The short respite merely delayed the hard choice that must be faced come morning. John silently agonized for his brother.

  The effects of the drug wore off long before dawn, and John brought Francis a drink of water, helped him relieve himself in the chamber pot, and rubbed his back in an effort to ease his suffering. To distract his brother, John talked about their childhood and the dogs they’d had.

  Francis begged him for brandy, and John did not demur. But the fumes took his breath away and brought on a coughing spell.

  “This cannot go on, Francis. You must give the surgeon permission to perform the operation.”

  “Who is this Kerr? I don’t even know him. I never heard of him until two days ago.” The fear was back in his eyes.

  “You are right, Francis. I suggest we send for the royal surgeon, Sir James Earle. He’s the top man in the country. If he decides an operation is necessary, I warrant both of us will have more confidence if Sir James agrees to perform it.”

  “Yes. I’m entitled to the best. Send for him, John.”

  John joined Lord Holland in the breakfast room and explained his brother’s plight. “Francis has a strangulated hernia and he needs immediate surgery to correct it and relieve the pain. He refuses to let Dr. Kerr touch him, but he has agreed to see the royal surgeon, Sir James Earle. Henry, would you be good enough to drive my phaeton back to London and fetch Sir James with all possible speed? I’ll write a letter describing in detail the Duke of Bedford’s dangerous condition.”