The Duchess Read online

  “The house my father gave us as a wedding gift is on a perfectly good street!” Charlotte burst out, stung.

  “Perhaps, my dear,” her mother-in-law purred, “but it is not Berkley Square now, is it?” She smiled again, pleased to have put the aggravating chit back in her place. “I’m certain Septimius will invite you to all the parties he is giving for Allegra. After all, she is Gussie’s cousin, isn’t she?”

  “She is a most delightful, but naughty puss,” the Marquess of Rowley said with a fond chuckle. “I have always been quite taken with Allegra. But when she and Sirena get together all hell is apt to break loose!” He chuckled again. “You are going to have your hands full, Mama,” he said, waggling a finger at her.

  “Which is why I shall enjoy a quiet summer back here in the country,” his mother said with a smile.

  “If the girls bag themselves husbands, Mama, you shall have no peace at all this summer, for you shall be busy planning their weddings. I know that my uncle Septimius depends upon you in such matters, and when Allegra marries, it will be quite the spectacle, I think.”

  “Miss Morgan has little hope of making a particularly distinguished match,” Charlotte interjected. “She may be rich, but her blood is barely blue, and her mama’s disgraceful behavior can hardly recommend her, or be overlooked. Is there not a saying, like mother, like daughter?”

  “Allegra’s mother, you may recall, Charlotte, was my youngest sister,” Lady Abbott said. “Her unfortunate conduct cannot reflect on my niece any more than it can reflect upon me, or any children you might finally bear. What twaddle you babble, my dear!”

  “Have you ever heard from Aunt Pandora since she ran away, Mama?” Augustus asked, curious.

  “Because you ask me, I shall tell you, Gussie, but it is never to be discussed with Allegra, or anyone else for that matter. Yes, I know where my sister is. She married her count, and they live outside of Rome. They are quite well liked, I am told.”

  “How could a divorced woman be remarried?” Charlotte asked.

  “Pandora’s first marriage was not performed in the Roman Catholic faith, and therefore not recognized by that church. My sister was first baptized into the old faith, and then married to her count. Septimius knows, but Allegra has never been told.”

  “She can hardly remember her mama,” Augustus said. “She was only two when Aunt Pandora ran off.”

  “She doesn’t remember her at all, but for the portrait of my sister which hangs at Morgan Court. Septimius has never taken it down because he has never stopped loving Pandora. My sister did not deserve such a good man.”

  “Why, madame,” Charlotte giggled inanely, “you sound as if you had a tendre for Lord Morgan.” She looked slyly at her mother-in-law, giggling again in a particularly irritating fashion.

  What had Augustus seen in this ridiculous girl, Lady Abbott thought. Her dear husband had been dead a year, and Lady Abbott was barely out of mourning when they had met. Charlotte’s parents, the earl and his countess, had been delighted with their daughter’s prize catch. They certainly should have been! They had rushed the young couple to the altar almost immediately, hosting a large wedding at St. George’s on Hanover Square, followed by a wedding breakfast afterward at their rented town house. There had been no time to point out to her son that Charlotte was a featherbrained chit who could be both selfish and mean. Still, she seemed to make Augustus happy, even if she had not yet produced a child. Her son said that Charlotte was afraid of childbirth, having been treated to horror stories from her mother, a brainless creature who had easily managed to produce three offspring despite her alleged fears.

  “Will you need the coach to get up to London?” the marquess asked his mother, ignoring his wife’s silly outburst as indeed he hoped his mama would. While he loved Charlotte, even he was ofttimes embarrassed by her tactlessness.

  Lady Abbott gave her son a small smile, and patted his hand reassuringly. “No, m’dear, I will not. Septimius’s traveling coach will convey us all to London in style.”

  “I hear the fittings on his vehicle are real silver—not gilt,” Charlotte said.

  “I believe they are,” Lady Abbott replied. “Sirena and I are going to travel to Morgan Court in a few days, and from there up to London. I should appreciate the use of your carriage, Gussie, for that short journey.”

  “Of course, Mama,” the marquess replied dutifully.

  “But what if that is the day I wish to go visit my sister?” Charlotte whined.

  “If it is,” her husband said, “I shall drive you to Lavinia’s in the Stanhope gig myself, my precious.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte said, brightening, “I should like that!”

  The drawing room door opened at that moment, and Lady Sirena Abbott entered, a packet in her hand. She was a very pretty girl with golden blond hair, and blue eyes with just the hint of gray in them. Her complexion was one of the most favored and in fashion—peaches and cream. “Mama, this has just come for you from Uncle Septimius,” she said breathlessly. “I think it must be our traveling schedule.” Then remembering her manners she curtsied properly to her sister-in-law, but hugged her brother enthusiastically. “Ohh, Gussie, isn’t it exciting? I’m going to London with Allegra! We have both decided that we are going to be Incomparables, and have all the gentlemen at our feet. We shall only consider the men who fight duels over us for husbands!”

  He laughed heartily, and hugged the slender girl back. “I certainly hope it will be just as exciting for you as you anticipate, Sirena. And, I hope you will find an excellent husband of good family, and better income to take care of you.”

  “Will he love me, Gussie?” she asked him anxiously.

  “How can he not?” her brother replied. “You are beautiful, Sirena, and sweet-natured. You excel at all the feminine skills, and you are virtuous. No man could ask for more in a wife, little sister.”

  “But you must not be so trusting of the other girls in London as you are at home,” Charlotte interjected. “Remember, they are all on the marriage hunt, Sirena, and will not be charitable toward others if it means they might lose a particularly desirable gentleman.”

  “That is excellent advice,” Lady Abbott noted, surprised by her daughter-in-law’s sudden generosity. Then she realized that Charlotte would be far happier having Sirena married and out of the house.

  “You make it sound like warfare,” the trusting Sirena said.

  “It is,” Charlotte replied. “You cannot let down your vigil until you are well and truly married. I knew a girl in my season who became engaged to a most desirable gentleman, only to have him turn about and elope to Gretna Green with another. She was ruined, of course, and has not showed her face in London since. She has little chance now of making a successful match.”

  “Poor thing,” Sirena said sympathetically.

  “If you were not going with Miss Morgan I should truly fear for you, Sirena,” Charlotte responded impatiently. “At least your cousin has good common sense.”

  Again Lady Abbott was surprised. “I thought you did not like Allegra Morgan,” she said to her daughter-in-law.

  “I neither like her nor dislike her,” was the lofty reply.

  Lord Morgan’s packet was a brief missive asking that they depart in a week’s time. The Rowley coach would not be needed. Lord Morgan was sending his carriage for Lady Abbott and Sirena. They would visit at Morgan Court for a few days, and then go up to London. Lord Morgan would be gone when they reached Morgan Court, but he would await them in London. He had already engaged the town’s most important modiste, Madame Paul, a refugee from the Terror in France, to make the girls’ wardrobes, including the court dresses in which they would be presented to the king.

  Sirena was beside herself with excitement. “Just imagine, Charlotte! Uncle has said no expense is to be spared, and we will have jewelry to wear from the family safe! Madame Paul is to make our gowns! We will even be presented to His Majesty and the queen.”

  “All young ladies of
good blood are presented,” Charlotte replied sourly. “I was, but I am certainly surprised that Miss Morgan is to be. After all, her blood is hardly blue. Well, perhaps a pale, pale shade,” she amended.

  “Certainly as pale as yours,” Lady Abbott replied sharply. “I think a duke and a duchess for grandparents certainly equals an earl and a countess for parents.” She arose before her red-faced daughter-in-law could respond, saying, “Sirena dearest, come. We must begin to pack, although you shall certainly need little. Just enough to tide you over until Madame Paul has your new wardrobe ready.” She swept from the room, her young daughter in her wake.

  “Why does your mama hate me so?” Charlotte wailed to her husband when they had gone.

  Augustus put a comforting arm about his wife. “Perhaps, m’dear, if you did not try to be so superior with her it might be better for you. You are surely no match for Mama. She is older, wiser, and a duke’s daughter. She is also most fond of Lord Morgan and Allegra. When you denigrate them, she feels bound to defend them. I hope that in the future you will learn to keep your own counsel, for you see, I, too, have a fondness for my uncle and my cousin. My inheritance was not a great one monetarily, but Uncle Septimius took it, and in the few years since my father died, has tripled it with his cleverness. Many of the furbelows and geegaws so dear to your heart, that I so generously bestow upon you, are provided thanks to my uncle. We are debt free, and will have the school fees for our sons when we need them one day.” He kissed her cheek tenderly.

  “I do dislike it when you scold me, Gussie,” Charlotte pouted.

  “Then amend your behavior, my darling, and I shall not have to do so,” her wise spouse replied, and gave her another kiss.

  “I shall be glad when we are finally alone,” Charlotte told him. “I will enjoy these next few weeks before we go up to town, with just you for company, Gussie. And if we are fortunate your sister, Sirena, will find a proper husband, and not return to Rowley Hall at all.” She sighed. “Of course we shall still have your mama in the dower house.”

  The marquess laughed. Had he not found the sparring between his mother and his wife so damned amusing, he might have been annoyed. They were, however, quite entertaining; his mother trying to adjust to being a dowager; his wife so eager to be lady of the manor. He was concerned that Charlotte had not conceived yet, but the Duchess of Devonshire had been a slow breeder, too. Only the presence of a son and a daughter among his cottagers reassured him that he, himself, was capable of siring children. When his wife was more secure she would certainly give him children.

  Lord Morgan’s coach appeared at Rowley Hall exactly one week later, just after first light. It was a magnificent vehicle, shiny black with silver fittings, and Lord Morgan’s coat of arms—a gold sailing ship upon an azure background, three gold stars and a silver crescent moon above it—painted upon each of the carriage doors. Inside, the seats were fashioned of fawn-colored leather and pale blue velvet. There were crystal and gold oil lamps set on either side of the comfortably padded benches, and small silver floral vases filled with daffodils, fern, and white heather. The coachmen and two grooms wore elegant black and silver livery. Even Charlotte was impressed, if not just a trifle envious.

  The luggage was carefully loaded by the grooms. The coachman remained in his place atop the box controlling the four dappled gray horses with the black manes who danced and snorted, obviously impatient to get going again. Lady Abbott and Sirena exited the house, accompanied by their personal maids. Both were garbed in fine fur-collared wool mantles over their gowns.

  “Good-bye, my dear,” Lady Abbott said to her son, kissing him.

  “I shall look forward to seeing you in London, Mama,” the young marquess said with a twinkle.

  “Do some serious ploughing with Charlotte while you are alone, and have the time,” she advised him pithily. “It is past time the wench did her duty by Rowley, Gussie.” She kissed him again, and then allowed one of the grooms to help her into the vehicle.

  Actually blushing, the marquess quickly turned to his sister, who having heard their mother’s remark was hard-pressed not to giggle. “Good-bye, little one,” he told her. “Good hunting!”

  “Oh, Gussie, you make it sound so … so … so common!” she replied.

  “It will be fun, I promise, but take Charlotte’s advice and trust no other maiden except Allegra. The husband hunt is not for the faint of heart, sister.” He kissed her on both cheeks, then helped her into the carriage where her mother and the two maids were already seated.“Good-bye! Good-bye!” the Marquess of Rowley called to his female relations as the vehicle pulled away, and the horses trotted quite smartly down the drive.

  “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Sirena called, leaning out the window until her outraged mother yanked her back inside.

  “Behave yourself, girl!” the dowager said sharply. “Your hoydenish days are over now, and you must grow up.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Sirena replied, just slightly chastened.

  They traveled the twenty miles separating Rowley Hall and Morgan Court, arriving by midday. As their carriage drew to a stop the two grooms jumped down from their outside seat behind the coach, and hurried to open the door and lower the step, allowing the passengers to descend. Charles Trent, Lord Morgan’s steward, hurried from the house to welcome them. He was a distinguished gentleman of indeterminate years with a serious demeanor and quietly graying brown hair. He kissed Lady Abbott’s hand as he bowed, and then Lady Sirena’s.

  “Welcome to Morgan Court. His lordship has already returned to London, but he left me behind to see to your comfort. Let us go into the house. I know that Miss Allegra is eagerly awaiting her cousin.”

  They had no sooner entered the building when Allegra Morgan appeared and threw herself into her cousin’s arms with a shriek of delight. “Wait until I tell you!” she said excitedly. “Madame Paul has sent down her chief assistant, Mademoiselle Francine, to take our measurements and show us fabric samples!” Then remembering her manners she detached herself from Sirena’s embrace, and curtsied to Lady Abbott. “Good day, Aunt,” she said. “I am most pleased to see you have arrived. Papa has asked me to tender his greetings, and say he looks forward to seeing you in London.” She kissed the older woman upon the cheek.

  “Thank you, m’dear,” Lady Abbott said, feeling a warmth in her cheeks, and wondering if the others had noticed.

  “Luncheon is served, m’lady,” Pearson, the butler, came to announce as the travelers’ cloaks were taken away.

  “Will you join us, Mr. Trent?” Lady Abbott asked. She knew that such was the steward’s high position that he frequently came to table with the family while they were in the country.

  “Thank you, madame, but I do have work to be completed today. I will, however, join you at supper. When the young ladies are ready they may go upstairs where Mademoiselle Francine is awaiting them in the Primrose chamber.” He bowed politely, and hurried off.

  “Such a lovely man,” Lady Abbott said. “What a pity he is the fourth son. His parents are the Earl and Countess of Chamberlain, y’know. The eldest son, Francis Trent, will inherit, of course.” She allowed Pearson to seat her, and then lowering her voice said, “He gambles, I’m sorry to say. The Earl of Chamberlain is constantly paying off his debts. The second son is out in India with the army, a colonel, I believe I heard. The third has an excellent pulpit in Nottingham. Both of them have married heiresses as they should have and consequently give their parents no trouble. The eldest has such an unsavory reputation that they cannot even find a wife for him. Imagine!

  “And then there is Charles Trent. Beautifully educated at Harrow, and at Cambridge; a man with exquisite manners, and an instinctive sense of what is correct. Fortunately your father found him twelve years ago, and employed him. Being steward to Septimius Morgan is an honorable profession for a man of Charles Trent’s superior breeding. I do not know what Septimius would do without him. He manages both the London house and this one. He handles the household accou
nts, engages any new staff, pays the wages, is responsible in fact for the entire staff. And he is your father’s personal secretary as well. How he does it, I do not know. A lovely man,” she repeated. Then Lady Abbott dipped her spoon into the turtle soup that had just been ladled into her plate, and began to eat.

  Allegra looked archly at her cousin, and Sirena had to stifle her giggle. The two girls ate scantily and quickly, in order to be swiftly excused from the table that they might go to Mademoiselle Francine. But Lady Abbott understood their excitement, and released them before the sweet and the cheese were served. They both rose slowly, attempting not to appear too eager. Then they curtsied, and walked carefully from the dining room through the doors the liveried footman held open. As the doors closed behind them Allegra and Sirena looked at each other, and then raced for the stairs. Stepping from his office, Charles Trent saw them, and smiled.

  They burst noisily into the Primrose chamber where Mademoiselle Francine was waiting. The Frenchwoman arose, and looked disapprovingly at them, shaking a finger.

  “Mademoiselles! Are you horses that you clomp?”

  “Forgive us, mademoiselle,” Sirena said politely. “We are so anxious to have you measure us so our gowns may be made!”

  “Ahh,” the lady replied with a small smile. “Well then, come, mes petites, and let us get your gowns off so I may ascertain what we have to work with. You are both very different. Are you related?”

  “We are first cousins,” Allegra said. “I am Allegra Morgan, and this is Lady Sirena Abbott.”

  “Thank you, mademoiselle,” the Frenchwoman replied.

  Allegra walked to the bellpull, and yanked upon it several times. She told the footman who answered her call, “Fetch Honor at once and Lady Sirena’s maid, Damaris, as well.”

  “Yes, Miss Allegra,” the footman replied, and hurried off.