A Duchess Enraged
Authors: Alicia Quigley
A Duchess Enraged
An After Dark
Georgian Romance
By Alicia Quigley
Text copyright © 2013 Alicia Quigley
All Rights Reserved
To my family, friends and the
occasional Bordeaux for their unflappable love and support.
Table of Contents
Payment in Full
The Duke of
Gravesmere placed his cards on the table and leaned back in his chair, reaching
for his glass of brandy with long, slender fingers. Draining it in one gulp, he
looked across the table at his friend and opponent, the Earl of Redecombe.
"It seems you
have had the best of it tonight, George," he said.
"It does
indeed," responded Lord Redecombe. "I almost feel bad about this,
Charles. But I can use the money. My estates aren't nearly as profitable as
yours, you dog."
"You had all the
luck," said the duke with a nonchalant shrug. "But mine will be in
another day, and then you had best beware." He laughed and poured himself
another glass of brandy. Glancing around the room he could see that the candles
were guttering in their sockets. "It's damned late. I suppose I should be
getting home."
Servants were moving
about unobtrusively in the background, tidying the room. Very few of the loud
and dissipated crowd that had gathered earlier in the gaming house remained,
and those that did were mostly dead drunk, their heads drooping over their cards.
The duke looked at them scornfully.
"I'll walk with
you," said Lord Redecombe. The two men downed their last brandies and
stood up, shaking out their lace cuffs and donning their satin coats.
"How did the
luck run tonight?" issued an unclear voice from a nearby table. A finely
dressed gentleman slumped over a bottle of claret rolled a bleary eye at them.
"Well for
Redecombe. I, however, am some twenty thousand pounds the poorer,"
responded the duke.
The gentleman
hiccupped. "It's not as though you can't afford it, Gravesmere. Too bad
you didn't lose it to me. Tonight may have ruined me. Nothing to do but jump in
the river, I suppose."
"You'll recover,
Martin," said the duke. "You always do."
The drunken gentleman
brightened. "That's true," he slurred. He struggled to his feet and
stood, swaying slightly. "Well, it's off to bed."
"That's the best
place for you," agreed the duke. "Sleep it off. Things will look
brighter tomorrow."
The two noblemen made
their way through the elegant rooms to the front door. A liveried porter held
the door for them, bowing low. "Good night, my lords," he said.
Gravesmere and
Redecombe exited the club and stood on the London street, drinking in the fresh
air after the staleness of the gaming room. The sun was just beginning to
lighten the sky in the east with a pinkish glow as they linked arms and
strolled towards home.
"You'll give me
a few days to settle up, won't you, George?" asked Gravesmere.
"I know you're
good for it, Charles. Take as much time as you wish," responded the earl.
The duke bowed in
silent thanks. His bankers would be unsurprised when he applied for the funds;
it was not at all unusual for him to lose huge amounts in a single night of
play. Fortunately, he could well afford it; he was known to be of the richest
men in England, and he always won again eventually. His wife would disapprove,
of course, and a slight tremor visited him as he anticipated her reaction.
Emily was one of the few people whose opinion Gravesmere respected.
They walked on a ways
in silence, and then Redecombe, who had apparently been indulging in laborious
thought, suddenly spoke up.
"Charles, I
believe I have a solution to our problem."
"What
problem?" asked the duke absently.
"You owe me a
vast sum of money. You will have to go to all the bother of going to your
bankers, and I am sure the duchess will make a fuss."
"I can handle
both the bankers and Emily," responded the duke, with a touch of humor.
His friend was apparently more frightened of the duchess than he was.
"But we can
avoid both the bankers and your wife with a very simple solution," said
the earl.
"And what might
that be?" requested the duke casually. If there was the possibility that
he might avoid a confrontation with his wife, it was worth considering.
"We seal our
friendship and forgive the debt by marrying my second daughter to your son! It
will be a perfect match." Redecombe looked pleased with himself. "The
girl--what's her name--Allegra! She's a sweet little thing without an ounce of
spite, and will be a good wife; and you can send your Adam off on his Grand
Tour without fearing that he will return with some French adventuress on his
arm!"
The duke laughed at
the picture this proposal presented, but then sobered as he further considered
his friend's words. His twenty-one year old heir, Adam, Viscount Treveine, was
a handsome devil, notorious for his dalliances with beautiful and entirely
unacceptable women. While Gravesmere had no problem with his flirtations, there
was always the chance that one might manage to worm her way into his family and
fortune, and the duke had already made several large payments to various
beauties in order to make them discontinue their association with his son.
"But Allegra's a
mere child, isn't she?" he asked.
"She's
fourteen," responded the earl. "She's old enough to be married, and
I'd as soon have her marry your Adam as any of the other young fools about
these days. And you know how hard it would be for me to raise a large sum for
her marriage portion; my finances are in terrible shape. We can deduct this
debt from it, and that will make it easier for me. After the marriage, Adam can
go on his Grand Tour, and Allegra can return to my house. By the time Adam's
back in a few years, Allegra will be out of the schoolroom and ready to assume
the responsibilities of a wife. It's a perfect solution."
Gravesmere pondered
the proposal. At first thought it seemed ludicrous. The girl in question was
still in the schoolroom, and Adam was an impetuous hothead, certainly not
inclined to marry anybody at this point in his life. And yet the idea had
possibilities. Marrying Adam off before he embarked on his Grand Tour would
make it impossible for some foreign hussy to charm her way into the family.
Despite her father’s pecuniary difficulties, Allegra was the offspring of one
of the finest families in the land, and could surely be relied upon to be a
steadying influence on his son. Lord Treveine would return from his trip a more
educated young man, and settle down immediately into married life. The duke
would no longer have to worry about what scandals he might create among the
young women of society. And he wouldn't have to bother his bankers, nor would
Emily know of his vast gambling debt. The more the duke considered the proposal,
the fewer faults he found with it.
"You may have
hit upon an excellent notion, George," he said. "Adam could do with a
wife to return to; if I let him reach much of an age unwed he is likely never
to marry at all. The boy is a positive devil with the women and declares he'll
never tie himself to only one. But marry he must, if only for the sake of the
title and estate."
"Then it's
settled," cried the earl. He clapped his friend merrily on the shoulder.
After a moment a worried look crossed his face. "What of Her Grace?"
he asked.
The duke smiled.
"I have some control over my own family, George," he observed.
"And my marriage to Emily was arranged by our families and we are
perfectly content. She will have no complaints on that score. She worries about
Adam as I do; he is a wild boy, and marriage will be the best way to tame him.
I believe I can convince her of that."
"Then when shall
we celebrate the nuptials?" asked the earl. "Allegra is in town now
with her mother and sisters; I can have her ready when you please."
Gravesmere pondered a
few moments. "It would be best to do this as soon as possible. Treveine
leaves in three days for Europe, and I would not give him much time to complain
about this marriage. Have Allegra at my house this afternoon at two-o-clock. I
shall procure a special license and we shall marry them then, and toast the
happy couple."
They had reached the
doors of the duke's townhouse and they clasped hands on the bargain. Lord
Redecombe turned towards his own home, content that he had found a brilliant
match for his young daughter, and the duke proceeded inside, pleased with
escaping his gambling debt and providing his son with a suitable wife in one
brief hour. The two men retired to their beds, content with a good night's
work.
Lady Allegra
Fitzwilliam sat in the nursery of her parent's house, gazing at herself in the
mirror. She saw a serious child, barely coming into womanhood, with blue eyes
and carroty curls. A sprinkling of freckles crossed her nose. There was nothing
striking that she could make out of her features, yet they did not seem totally
unpleasing. She was, she decided, not at all remarkable. She sighed and turned
from the mirror. She had a good deal to think about besides her appearance.
It had been a busy
morning for Allegra. She had been hustled out of bed at an early hour by her
mother and confronted by her parents. Her father had clearly not yet been to
bed, and her mother, dressed in her nightclothes, was just as clearly both
nervous and elated. Her father had informed her briefly that her marriage to
Viscount Treveine was to take place that afternoon, and then she had been sent
back to the nursery to dress. An hour later a lovely and sweet woman who
announced herself as Lord Treveine's mother had arrived and spent a few minutes
talking to her. She had been kind, but Allegra was too stunned to be unable to
venture anything but the merest formalities in response to questions. The lady
had patted her on the head, wished her well, and departed, leaving Allegra once
again alone in the nursery, contemplating her imminent change in position.
The door opened
abruptly and her twelve-year-old sister, Jemima, burst into the room.
"Allegra," she squealed. "You're to be a duchess!" She
leaped onto Allegra's bed and bounced merrily up and down. "You're so very
lucky! I wish I was getting married."
Allegra looked at
Jemima and envied her uncomplicated pleasure in the forthcoming marriage. She
herself felt nothing but anxiety at the prospect of life with Lord Treveine. As
isolated as Allegra was in the world of the schoolroom she had still heard of
his various exploits. He was a friend of her older brother's and their
escapades in Society were notorious. Indeed, she had heard her parents
discussing only a few weeks ago Treveine's being sent down from Oxford and the
riotous life he had led since. Allegra's father had found the whole tale a
great joke, but her mother had thought it sad that such a young man should be
such a wastrel. And now she was to marry this man, who she very much doubted
wanted to be saddled with a fourteen-year-old bride—or any sort of bride at
all.
Jemima continued her
bouncing. "I am so jealous!" she exclaimed. "Imagine making such
a splendid match without even having to try! Treveine is the most eligible man
in London. And so rich! You'll have all the gowns and jewels and carriages you
could ever want."
Allegra shook her
head slowly. "I don't really think gowns and jewels and carriages are so
important, Jemima," she said. "I was hoping to marry a man I knew and
respected."
Jemima laughed and
threw her arms around her. "Respect? What a fuddy-duddy you are. Very few
women respect their husbands. Mama can't abide Father. But think of the times
you shall have! And when I am old enough you can give a huge ball for me at
Gravesmere House; I hear tell the ballroom is absolutely splendid. I can't
believe you aren't happier about this, Allegra."
The door opened and
their mother bustled into the room. "Come along, Allegra, it's time for
you to get dressed for your wedding."
Allegra's eyes
widened as her mother's maid, Margaret, followed her mother into the room
carrying a fluffy pale-pink dress. "We have no time to have a special gown
made for you, and none of your dresses are suitable for a wedding,"
explained Lady Redecombe. "We shall have to make this dress of Maria's fit
you somehow."
The two women swooped
down on Allegra and stripped her of her dress, pulling her older sister's
cast-off hastily over her head and fussing with it. She barely felt Margaret's
hasty fingers poking and pulling at her, and only sighed when her mother stuck
her with a pin. Jemima continued to bounce about the room, calling out
reassurances and speculation as to exactly how fashionable Allegra was about to
become.
"Hush,
Jemima," said Lady Redecombe. "Lord Treveine will be going to the
Continent for the Grand Tour and will likely be gone some years. Allegra will
stay here with us until he returns and they can set up their own household. You
sister will not be a fashionable matron for a few years yet."
Jemima looked
disappointed, but Allegra was immediately cheered by the news. She had at least
a few years respite before she had to take on her scandalous husband. Perhaps
the Grand Tour would steady him somewhat. Or perhaps he would take to her and
they would make a good match of it. She tried to concentrate on what her mother
was saying to her as she adjusted the dress.
"Allegra, dear,
you are a very lucky young woman to land such an eligible husband with no
effort at all on your part. You should thank your father most kindly for
finding you a wealthy husband and making sure you would be well provided for in
the future."