The Irish Duke (2 page)

The pair blushed hotly when they realized Lu had overheard them wondering how many lovers she’d had in her eighty-odd years.

The
trés grande dame
was presiding over a levee of her one hundred and one descendants.

“After all, I belonged to the decadent Georgian era. You cannot expect me to even pay lip service to the rigid respectability of the repressed Victorians.”

“Is it true, Your Grace, that you declined the office of Mistress of the Robes to her Majesty the Queen?” Maud asked in awe.

Lu threw back her head and laughed. “Not once, but twice. One of my greatest passions is beautiful raiment in brilliant colors, such as red. Just the thought of Queen Victoria’s dull and dowdy garments gives me the shudders.”

“Her daughter-in-law Princess Alexandra has lovely taste in clothes,” Maud said.

“Indeed she has. It will be a most welcome change to have a queen who is fashionable. I cannot wait.”

The girls looked incredulous that the old girl expected to outlive Queen Victoria.

The corners of Lu’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “I’m not ready to stick my spoon in the wall for another decade. I fully intend to welcome in the next era with gusto.” She waved her crimson ostrich-feather fan languidly. “A little decadence never hurt anyone.”

The room fell silent as Louisa’s youngest daughter Evelyn, Marchioness of Lansdowne, read congratulatory letters from Her Majesty Queen Victoria and His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales.

The future Duke of Leeds, who was married to her favorite granddaughter, handed her a glass of champagne and kissed her cheek. He raised his own glass. “I drink a toast to the best- looking woman in London.”

“I’ll give you a toast an Irishman taught me:

Louisa sat in the place of honor so that the speeches could begin. Her great-granddaughter Maud and her cousin returned, eager to learn all they could about their fascinating great-grandmother.

“What is it now, Miss Inquisitive?”

“I heard that you first met James Hamilton when you were a little girl. Is that true, Your Grace?”

Louisa’s mind took wing and soared back over the decades to Carlton House. “It was July 1819. . . . I remember it all as if it were yesterday.”

 

 

“Lady Louisa, will you marry me?”

Louisa Jane Russell, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, stared at the boy who had planted himself before her, and saw the determination written on his face. “Who the devil are you?” she demanded.

Nine-year-old James Hamilton, needing to impress the beautiful seven-year-old, raised his chin with pride. “I am the Marquis of Abercorn.” He pronounced it
Avercorn
.

“Do you have a speech impediment?”

James drew himself up to his full height. “Certainly not!”

“Then why did you say
Avercorn
when your name is
Abercorn
?”

James hid a smile. He resisted the impulse to correct the dark little beauty and inform her that the letter “b” in his title was pronounced “v.” “You may call me whatever you like, if you will consent to be my future wife.”

“Isn’t Abercorn an Irish title?”

“Yes, it is. My name is James Hamilton. I came into my grandfather’s title last year.” His heart was doing a jig just looking at her. “You haven’t answered my question, Lady Louisa. Will you marry me?”

She raised her lashes and stared at him. “Marry an Irishman with a speech impediment? You must be mad!”

Louisa joined her older sister, Georgy. She eyed the glass of wine in her hand and licked her lips. “Where’s Mother?”

“She’s in the scarlet drawing room with Jack and Charles. Our insufferable brothers have cornered Prinny and are asking all sorts of ridiculous questions about the decorations on his portly chest. Who was that handsome devil you were talking to?”

“His name is James Hamilton. His good looks are very deceiving. He’s actually quite stupid.” She dismissed him from her thoughts. “I’m ravenous. I was too nervous to eat before I performed my dance but now my belly is rolling.” Louisa could see that her sister wasn’t even listening to her. She was searching for someone in the crowd of young people invited to Carlton House for the children’s party. When Georgy darted into the throng of pedigreed youngsters, she sprang after her. “Wait a minute. Where’s the refreshment room?”

To Louisa’s consternation, her sister stopped before James Hamilton and began talking to him. She turned her back on them and was heading in the direction of the scarlet drawing room when she encountered the Prince of Wales.

“My dear, your Spanish dance was delightful.” He touched the red fringe on her shawl with a pudgy finger. “You have your mother’s exquisite beauty. What may I do to show you my appreciation?”

“Could you get me some ham sandwiches, Your Highness, and a glass of sugared wine? I’m very hungry.”

Prinny hid a smile and bowed gallantly. “Your wish is my command, Lady Louisa. I am always delighted to please a lady.”

Louisa decided to follow him and with every step she happily clicked the castanets she’d used in her Spanish shawl dance. She instinctively knew if there was food to be had, the corpulent prince regent would home in on it like a pig unearthing truffles.

Prinny took delight in Lady Louisa’s dainty appetite. “All the Russell children are most impressive. Your brothers are such fine young men.”

Her brows drew together.
My brothers are young savages.
She swallowed the last morsel. “Thank you for the sandwiches, Your Highness. It was a lovely party. I shall take my wine with me so I may savor it.” She sketched a curtsy and departed.

Louisa scanned the ranks of doting parents for her mother but didn’t see her. Her eyes, however, met those of a striking-looking woman wearing a white turban decorated with a large ruby. She recognized her as Princess Lieven, wife of the Russian ambassador.

Louisa smiled, and when the Russian noblewoman beckoned, she sat down beside her. “Are you enjoying the party, Princess Lieven?”

“I was overcome with
ennui
until I saw you dance, Lady Louisa.” She stroked the silk shawl. “Red is a bold color. Do you like it?”

“I love it . . . it makes me feel alive.”

“Red has a power all its own. You should wear it often. It is a striking color for a lady with dark hair and green eyes like yours.”

Louisa was enthralled. “Do you have Gypsy blood, Princess Lieven?”

“My blood is quite blue, I assure you. But I do have
psychic
power—the ability to see into the future. It is a gift or a curse, depending on the circumstances.”

“How fascinating!” Louisa sipped her sugared wine. “Can you see
my
future?”

Dorothea Lieven ran the tip of her tongue over her rouged lips. “Would you truly want to know your future, child?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she said avidly.

“Set your wine down and give me your hand.”

Louisa did as she was bidden and gazed enthralled as the wraith-like princess stared down at her open palm.

“You have a long life ahead of you, Louisa Russell. You will live to be almost a hundred years old. You will be a great favorite at Court and will live to see five different monarchs sit on the throne of England.”

Old King George is about to die and the prince regent will be king soon.
Louisa pictured a plump Prinny sitting on the throne, wearing a glittering crown.

“I see many children surrounding you.”

“Yes, there are so many of us that Father calls Woburn Abbey the
rabbit warren
. Mother isn’t going to have any more babies, is she?” Louisa asked anxiously. At Christmas her mother had given birth to a lifeless baby boy.

“Georgina, Duchess of Bedford, is a friend of mine. I think it entirely probable she will have more. But I was speaking of your own children surrounding you.”

Louisa was horrified. “You must be mistaken. I intend to be a dancer and an actress on the stage. I don’t want a horde of children. Perhaps I will consider having just one little girl but no boys, certainly.”

Princess Lieven brushed Louisa’s dark curls from her serious forehead. “Nonsense. You will have more than a dozen children, all beautiful.” She saw the look of dismay on the child’s face and hastened to assure her. “There will be more girls than boys.”

Louisa jumped up in alarm. Her mother’s agonizing screams as she gave birth the last three years in a row echoed in her memory. “I must find Mother. Please excuse me, Princess Lieven.”

It didn’t take her long to recognize the Duchess of Bedford’s hat across the chamber. Her mother always wore the most spectacular creations. Louisa hurried to her side and found her surrounded by young people. Her brothers Charles and Jack, as well as her cousin Arthur Lennox, were conversing with their school friends from Westminster, including James Hamilton. Her sister Georgy was batting her eyelashes at Abercorn in a ridiculous manner.

Her Aunt Charlotte, the Dowager Duchess of Richmond, had brought her three youngest daughters, Madelina, Lottie, and Sophia, since Fife House was close by.

“There you are, Pussycat.” Georgina smiled at her daughter. “Your dance was a great success, darling.”

Her female cousins looked impressed, but her brothers snickered and she pointedly ignored them.

“Are you hungry?” her mother asked with concern.

James Hamilton stepped forward and fished in his pocket. “I have something you might like, Lady Louisa.”

“No, thank you.” Her refusal was coolly polite. “His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, brought me some sandwiches.” Suddenly her eyes sparkled with delight. Sitting in the middle of Abercorn’s palm was a sugared mouse. “Oh, how sweet. I absolutely cannot resist it.” She took the offered treasure to her mouth and licked it.

As the two duchesses and their families made their way toward the Carlton House door, James gazed after Louisa Russell. Her dance had mesmerized him. Her lithe, graceful movements combined with her dark beauty captured his imagination and made his heart sing. He had lost his heart watching her dance. That she was garbed in red seemed prophetic. The Abercorn ancestral color was crimson.

“I knew I’d have you eating out of my hand. It’s a trick I learned when I was taming my Arabian mare.” Abercorn smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

At the levee in Montagu House, Dowager Duchess Louisa looked at her great-granddaughter Maud. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Maud nodded. “Thank you for telling us the story, Your Grace.”

The duchess sat back as the speeches began, extolling her virtues, but Louisa’s memories of Abercorn held her fast.
The next time I saw James, I was suffering from a broken heart, as only a sixteen-year-old girl can.

 

 

 

“M
ay I see the painting?” Louisa stroked her pony’s neck with a loving hand. Her heart beat wildly as she gazed at the handsome young man who was working on her portrait.

“No, you may not, Mistress Impatience. The afternoon light is perfect. Ten more minutes is all I ask.”

“Then it will be finished, Lanny?”

“No, it won’t be finished.” He flashed her an indulgent smile. “Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day. Do you find posing tiresome, Louisa?”

“Oh no!” She felt her cheeks blush and said shyly, “I like spending the afternoon in your company.”
I wish you would go on painting me forever.

Louisa’s father, the Duke of Bedford, had been Edwin Landseer’s patron for more than four years and had commissioned the talented young artist to paint portraits of his wife Georgina and his younger children.

Louisa had considered the artist a familiar friend of the family. But as she posed for him, holding the reins of her pony, her feelings for the handsome young man underwent an amazing transformation.

“Can you make me as beautiful as my mother?” she asked eagerly. Throughout her life Lady Louisa had been told she was the image of her exquisite mother, but she didn’t quite believe it.

“You are the prettiest young lady I have ever painted. With the same beautiful dark green eyes, you are truly your mother’s daughter.”

Louisa lowered her lashes shyly at the lovely compliment. It was the first real praise she had ever received from a member of the opposite sex, and it made her heart flutter.

Thinking an insect had landed on her face, she brushed her fingers across her cheek. Then she felt something hit her chin and heard a muffled giggle. She swooped down immediately and scooped up her youngest brother, Alex, from beneath the mulberry bushes. She kissed his chubby cheek. “You horrid louts shouldn’t be teaching him such naughty tricks.”

Cosmo and Henry, eleven and twelve respectively, sniggered loudly and moved a safe distance away, but still within taunting distance. “Catch us if you can, Cracknut!”

“Just ignore them,” Edwin advised.

“They think it hilarious to call me by the name of my pet dormouse. The boys have run wild for years since Father has been ill; Mother has spent all her time with him.” John Russell, Duke of Bedford, had suffered a stroke in 1822, paralyzing his right side, distorting his mouth, and crippling his arm.

“Because of your mother’s devoted nursing, your father is much improved and has regained his vigor.” Edwin Landseer wiped his brushes. “That’s enough for today. Your older brothers will soon be home from Oxford for the summer. They’ll box Henry and Cosmo across the ear if they catch them teasing you.”