The Duchess

by Bertrice Small

  Leaning forward he kissed her, positioning himself for the tender onslaught he was about to make on her innocence. She felt the tip of his lance pressing against her most intimate place. It pushed through her slowly yielding flesh until it was just lodged within her body. He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, then his mouth fused against hers in a fierce kiss as he thrust hard and deep within her.

  Pain radiated throughout her lower extremities. Her legs felt wooden; her belly as though a hot poker had been jammed into it. She tore her head from his, and cried out, tears beginning to flow from her eyes. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. And then as suddenly and as violently as the hurt had come, it faded away to a dull ache that eased more and more with each strong stroke of his manhood.

  He released her hands, whispering, “Put your arms about me, Allegra.”

  She drew him close. Something was happening to her. The pain was now entirely gone. A delicious euphoria was beginning to fill her body. She moaned softly, her hips instinctively pushing back at him with each downward stroke. “Ohhh yes!” she cried, unable to remain silent any longer. “Ohhhh!”

  He smiled down at her although with her eyes still closed she didn’t see him. The little minx was enjoying herself! She had easily discovered the delightful pleasure of shared lust. He thrust farther, and deeper into her. Of course a virgin was unlikely to reach passion’s peak her first time, but she had not been repelled by their consummation. He was near his own nirvana when to his surprise her body stiffened, and he felt the quivers of complete fulfillment radiating throughout her body. Unable to control his own desires any further he exploded into her eager young body.

  Allegra was suddenly soaring. She had never known such pleasure as was now racing through her. It was uncontrollable. It was wonderful. Golden stars burst like fireworks behind her eyes, and drifted into her conscious. Did this happen to everyone? She was going to have to ask Quinton, because if this happened to everybody, no wonder Papa and Aunt Mama were now so happy. “Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhh!” she gasped, and then she felt herself falling into a warm and gentle darkness.

  As she slowly came to herself again Allegra felt the duke stroking her long hair. “There, my dear,” he said softly, “the worst is over, and I do believe you have obtained a certain pleasure from me as I have obtained it from you.” He dropped a kiss upon her head.

  Opening her eyes she turned to look into his face. “Oh, yes, Quinton,” she agreed. “I have had my pleasure of you indeed. Why do women not speak on such wonders?”

  “Did your cousin not say anything of the delights of passion to you?” he asked her quietly.

  “She said that making love was wonderful, but when I pressed her further she then told me I should have to find out for myself, and I surely have, Quinton.” She snuggled against him. “Is it done more than once each night?”

  “It can be,” he said, struggling against laughter again.

  “Will we?” Her tone was distinctly hopeful.

  “Not tonight,” he replied, and kissed her pretty lips.

  “Why not?” she demanded, her violet eyes growing stormy. “I liked it, Quinton. I liked fucking very much!”

  “I could certainly see that, Allegra,” he told her, “but it was your first experience with the sport, and you will be tender. I promise you that we will most definitely make love again tomorrow, and tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that. You are quite delectable, and I believe I have gained quite a bargain in you.”

  “Ohhh, you are a beast,” she cried, and punched at his shoulder with her small fist. “Am I a purchase to you then?”

  He laughed. “You are my beautiful and delicious young wife, Allegra,” he said as he slid from his place in her bed. Picking up his nightshirt he drew it over his dark head. Then bending he kissed her once more, tweaking her right nipple playfully as he did. “Good night, my dear. I will see you in the morning.”

  “Quinton! Would you leave me then?” she cried.

  “I sleep in my own bed, Allegra,” he told her. Then he was gone through the connecting door that separated their bedchambers.

  If he loved me, or I loved him, she thought, he would have remained with me. I’ll bet Ocky doesn’t leave Sirena’s side at night. Still her solitude gave Allegra time to ponder on what had just happened between them. He had been so gentle and thoughtful of her. If I believed in love, she considered—but of course, I don’t—I believe I could love this man. I think I am, however, gaining a small affection for him. I really should if we are going to have children together. His seed is in me now. Perhaps I am already with child. I am, one day, going to be the mother of the next Duke of Sedgwick. My son. My son, the duke. And then she fell asleep.

  Next door the duke lay in his cold bed. It had been so difficult to leave her, but couples slept apart. It was expected. Of course having grown up with no memory of a mother in the household Allegra wouldn’t know that. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her. She had been so warm and passionate. After she had been so sensible and practical. What would she say if she knew he loved her? Would she be horrified? He dared not tell her until he could be certain that she would return his love, or at least not mock it. He slept at last.

  Honor brought her mistress her breakfast in bed, noting the unused basin by the fire. She would, the maid-servant decided, tell her ladyship about its use later. She also noted that Allegra was naked in her bed, her night garment thrown carelessly aside. And her mistress was sleepy yet, poor thing. All the excitement leading up to the wedding, and then last night to contend with, Honor thought. Still, her ladyship didn’t look unhappy. “Good morning, Your Grace,” she said.

  “I’m going to remain in bed this morning,” Allegra announced, slipping into her nightgown.

  “Very good, your ladyship,” Honor answered. Then she hurried to the new mahogany chest, and took out a delicate lace shawl which she draped about her young mistress’s shoulders.

  “Is the duke up yet?” Allegra asked as she bit into a piece of toasted bread. She was still tired, but she was also hungry.

  “Up and out riding. Crofts said he was whistling when he went out the door,” Honor giggled. “Crofts said he seemed a happy man.”

  “Oh,” was the only reply the maidservant received.

  In midmorning Crofts opened the door to Hunter’s Lair to be faced with elegantly attired gentlemen. “Good day, sirs,” he said, and bowed slightly from the waist.

  “We have come to see the duke,” the taller of the two gentlemen said. “Tell him Prinny and Brummell are here.”

  Crofts gaped openly. He looked at the two gentlemen again, and then he recognized the blond, blue-eyed gentleman with the rosy complexion from a drawing he had seen in the London paper. He bowed again. This time lower as he looked at the prince. Carefully he addressed the royal gentleman. “His lordship is out riding, but I shall send for him immediately. If you will come into the drawing room I shall see you are served wine.”

  “Much rather have a good breakfast,” the prince said peevishly. “Damned inn we overnighted in was a pigsty. Was frightened to death to touch a morsel lest it kill me.”

  The taller Brummell smiled amused. “His Highness is quite hungry, having not eaten since luncheon yesterday,” he explained calmly to Crofts.

  “Perkins!” Crofts almost shouted to the footman. “Go to the kitchens, and tell cook a full breakfast for His Highness, Prince George, and his guest. Immediately!” Then he turned back to Prinny and his companion. “Let me show you to the dining room, gentlemen.”

  In the kitchens Perkins had created an uproar with his request from Mr. Crofts.

  “Prince George?” the cook said. “Our prince? What in the name of all that is holy is the prince doing here?”

  “The gentry don’t tell me their business, cook, but I heard the other fellow say the prince ain’t eaten since yesterday noon.”

  The cook blanched, but then she recovered, and began to issue orders. In an amazingly short time the servants were hurrying
into the dining room with platters of lamb chops, beefsteak, fresh bread, cheese, butter, poached eggs in heavy cream and dill, a platter with slices of pink salmon and lemon wedges, and a small ham. The cook was pleased to learn the prince smiled broadly and had dug into her hastily arranged feast with gusto.

  When Crofts was certain that the royal guest and his companion were well taken care of, he sent another footman for the duke. Then he hurried upstairs to inform his mistress of the unexpected arrival. He knocked on the duchess’s apartment door, to be admitted by Honor.

  “Yes, Mr. Crofts, what is it?” the maidservant asked.

  “Unexpected guests, Honor. Very important guests. I must see her ladyship.”

  “I’ll have to awaken her,” Honor said. “Please wait.” She disappeared into Allegra’s bedchamber, reappearing a few moments later. “Come in, Mr. Crofts,” she beckoned the majordomo.

  Slowly the elderly man entered the duchess’s private chamber. She was seated in her bed, looking rather sleepy. He bowed.

  “What is it, Mr. Crofts?” she asked him.

  “The prince, Your Grace. Prince George, and a Mr. Brummell are here. Downstairs. In the dining room. Having breakfast,” Crofts managed to get out. “I have sent for the duke.”

  “Good lord!” Allegra said, astounded. What was she to do?

  “If your ladyship could come down,” Crofts suggested. “I don’t know how long it will take the duke to return to the house.”

  “To arrive so unexpectedly and without warning,” Allegra said almost to herself.

  “They should be well occupied for the next hour with cook’s breakfast,” Crofts offered.

  Allegra nodded. “I will be down shortly,” she said. She flung back the coverlet, and jumped from the bed. “Honor! What am I to wear?” Then she saw the elderly majordomo averting his eyes as he backed from her bedchamber. Allegra chuckled. “Gracious, Crofts, you are older than my papa, and have surely seen your good wife in her night attire many times.” She padded hurriedly across the room, unconcerned.

  “Indeed, Your Grace, I have,” Crofts said as he scuttled from the room, his withered cheeks flushed, closing the door behind him.

  “You must gain more dignity, your ladyship,” Honor scolded her mistress.

  “What on earth can Prinny and Brummell be doing here?” Allegra wondered aloud, ignoring Honor’s suggestion. “Neither of them paid a great deal of attention to me in London except when I once danced with the prince. Brummell never, I will vow it, spoke a word to me when we passed. He did nod though. What am I to wear?”

  “Simple, day-after-the-wedding-like,” Honor said, and drew out a rosebud sprigged white silk gown with a round, scooped neckline, and puffed sleeves. “This should do it.”

  “I need to bathe,” Allegra protested.

  “A birdbath will do, your ladyship,” Honor said. “I’ve reheated the basin I left for you by the fire last night.”

  “Oh, I forgot all about it,” Allegra said. “What was it for?”

  “A lady should always wash her private parts after making love with her husband,” Honor said bluntly. “Now, go and give yourself a quick sponge while I get your stockings and slippers.”

  There was blood on her thighs! She stared, horrified, and then she recalled that Sirena had said there would be. And on the bed linens as well. She blushed. Such an intimate fact, and it would be known soon enough by the whole household. Well, Allegra thought, at least her virtue would never be in doubt. She carefully washed herself, noting as she did that she was indeed tender. And Quinton had been so considerate.

  As she dressed she wondered why on earth the prince and his friend would come to Hunter’s Lair the day after their wedding. It was indelicate to say the least, but then princes did what they wanted, and devil take the hindmost. She sat quietly in her petticoat while Honor dressed her hair in its chignon. She selected her wedding necklace and earbobs to wear, and put on her dress. Slipping her feet into her slippers she said, “I am ready, Honor.” Then she left her apartment, going down the stairs and into her dining room where the prince was just finishing his repast. Allegra curtsied. “Welcome to Hunter’s Lair, Your Highness,” she said.

  Chapter Ten

  “My dear Miss Morgan,” Prinny said as he arose from the table, smiling. Then he kissed her hand. “We have come for the wedding,” he announced.

  “The wedding?” Allegra was somewhat taken aback, but there was no help for it. “The wedding, Your Highness, was yesterday,” she replied truthfully.

  “Yesterday?” The prince looked quite astounded and then aggrieved.

  George Brummell’s face looked as if he was struggling to hold back his laughter.

  “Yesterday, Your Highness,” Allegra confirmed. “If you had but informed us you were coming …” Her voice trailed off helplessly.

  “When word came that you had decided to marry here and not in London,” the prince began, sitting heavily in his chair, “I thought that young Brummell and I would come to surprise you with our presence. I did not think that you would be wed so early in October.” There was a faintly reproachful tone to his voice, as if she had done something wrong.

  “I am sure that Her Grace did not mean to disappoint,” George Brummell quickly interjected. He was a slender gentleman with an elegant nose, beautifully coifed dark hair, and blue eyes that were always alert.

  “No, no, of course not,” Allegra said quickly. “If you had but sent us notice, Your Highness, we would have waited. What a great honor it would have been for us all to have you at our wedding.”

  Prinny, however, looked very disappointed. As if he were a child who had expected some wonderful treat that had failed to materialize.

  “But I am so delighted, Your Highness,” Allegra continued, “that you have honored us with a visit. You will remain, of course. My husband has a hunting party each October. The other guests will be arriving in a few days. They will be thrilled to learn Your Highness and his companion, Mr. Brummell, are here.”

  “But if you were wed yesterday, won’t you be going on a wedding trip, Your Grace?” the prince asked.

  “Gracious, no, Your Highness. We plan a trip next spring, perhaps to Italy. Quinton has spoken to me of a city called Venice.” She smiled at the prince. “Can you imagine a city where the streets are water?” she laughed. “I must see it to believe it.”

  “Well, it will not be soon, Your Grace,” the prince told her. “That rascal Corsican, name of Napoleon, is on the march in Italy, and believe me, Venice is threatened. The whole damned Venetian empire is.”

  “Oh dear,” Allegra said, disappointed.

  “You’ll have to take an old-fashioned wedding trip to Devon, or to the lakes,” Prinny said with a sympathetic smile.

  Brummell saw the look of disappointment on Allegra’s face. “Do not be sad, Your Grace,” he told her, “that Froggie rogue will soon be marched to Madame la Guillotine. His own peers can’t abide him, and when the Bourbon king is restored, he’ll have no friends at all at that court.”

  “And then may I see the city of water?” Allegra said.

  “Indeed, madame, you surely will,” Brummell agreed.

  “Your Highness!” Quinton Hunter strode into the room. “Welcome to Hunter’s Lair. You honor us.” He swept the prince a bow, nodding at George Brummell in greeting.

  “We came for the wedding,” the prince repeated, “only to learn from your charming bride that it was celebrated yesterday. Should have been here but for the wretched weather. Roads were so muddy and foul we had to stop our journey. Stayed at a dreadful place called The Royal George, and by Jove, I’ll have the name of the place changed, I will! Food wasn’t fit for pigs, and the beds were flea-bitten.”

  “I have asked the prince to remain for your hunting party,” Allegra told her startled husband. “It seemed the hospitable thing to do, my lord, with our guests arriving in just a few days’ time.”

  George Brummell saw the surprised look that appeared, and was as q
uickly gone from the duke’s face. Why there is no hunting party planned at all, he thought, amused at the clever temerity of the young Duchess of Sedgwick. But there would be. And in very short order, too, he expected. Brummell restrained a chuckle. He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to Allegra Morgan last season, but now he realized his mistake. The young woman was no foolish creature. She was intelligent; she was quick; and he admired her audacity. Their visit was going to prove very amusing.

  “Who is included in this hunting party, Your Grace?” he asked wickedly, his blue eyes dancing mischievously.

  Allegra easily saw that he was on to her, but certainly the prince wasn’t. His Highness was as dense as pudding. “It’s a small party, just my husband and his three closest friends. They have hunted together for years at this time every autumn, Mr. Brummell. Lord Walworth, the Earl of Aston, and Viscount Pickford. It is very intimate, you understand, and now that these four gentlemen are wed, the party shall be even merrier,” Allegra said sweetly. Then she turned to the prince. “I hope that Your Highness will not be bored. Now that you are here, I shall invite the widowed Lady Perry and her sister, Lady Johnstone. That way we shall be even at dinner.” She smiled brightly at them.

  “Excellent! Excellent!” the prince agreed.

  “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I will go and have two of our guest chambers readied for you and Mr. Brummell, Your Highness,” Allegra said. She curtsied, and moved serenely from the dining room.

  “By Jove, Quinton,” the prince pronounced, “that’s a fine girl you’ve married! Going to make you an excellent duchess, even if she ain’t of the first order blood-wise. It don’t hurt to improve the stock with something less than a thoroughbred young mare now and again.”