The Decadent Duke (13 page)

“A most unflattering comparison. Prinny must weigh at least ten stone more than I do.”

Georgina's eyes sparkled with curiosity. “s there a special young lady you are secretly interested in?”

He winked. “If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret.”

They climbed the stairs and entered the gallery, which wasn't too crowded today. There were one or two wives present to listen to their husbands, and a few male heirs viewing their fathers below on the floor of the Commons.

Georgina did not take a seat, but stood at the rail and looked down. She saw him immediately. He was the only member of parliament not wearing a wig, and his black hair stood out in stark contrast to the white powdered heads.

Her glance moved to Mr. Pitt, who stood on the floor with a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Though we successfully put down the attempted Irish rebellion, we must not be complacent. If solutions to the religious and political problems in Ireland are not found, malcontents will try again and again to overthrow the monarchy. I firmly believe the only answer is a union of Great Britain and Ireland.”

Loud shouts, both agreeing and disagreeing with the prime minister, broke out. And it took a few minutes for order to be restored.

Georgina watched John Russell get to his feet. He did not need to climb on the bench to be noticed. He was a head taller than most members.

“The house recognizes the honorable member from Tavistock.”

John Russell spoke without notes, and his deep, somber voice carried easily to the gallery. “Mr. Prime Minister, honorable members. You are well aware that my vote is for full Irish independence.”

Cheers and jeers met his words.

Unperturbed, Russell continued. “Since most of you are still living in the Dark Ages and will not even consider this, I would throw my weight behind Prime Minister Pitt's suggestion of an Act of Union, providing . . .
providing
we allow Catholic emancipation.”

Once again there were cheers and jeers.

Pitt held up his hand. “Irish Catholics have been permitted to vote since 1790, but any bill allowing Roman Catholics to become members of parliament will be blocked by His Royal Highness, King George III. I remind you we serve at the pleasure of the king.”

“The king is mad!”

Georgina couldn't tell who made the shocking declaration, but pandemonium reigned as members banged their shoes on the benches.

Charles James Fox got to his feet and held up both arms. The members quieted so that he could be heard. “Once again, I humbly propose a Bill of Regency.”

His words were met with laughter and cheers from his fellow members of the Whig opposition.

Mr. Pitt responded. “We are aware of the honorable Member's ambition to become prime minister of this House. Sadly, I cannot accommodate you at this time.”

John Russell's deep voice rose above the mirth. “It is no laughing matter that ninety percent of Irishmen are excluded from sitting in the Irish parliament because they are Catholic. And you are right, Mr. Pitt—we do serve at the pleasure of the king. But I respectfully remind you that the
king
serves at the pleasure of the
people
.” The entire House broke into applause.

Georgina hung on to his every word.
I find the man himself detestable, yet I totally agree with his sentiments.

“Are you watching Charles Lennox?” her brother asked.

Georgina blinked.
I didn't even see Charlotte's husband.
Her glance roamed across the benches.
Why, there's Lord Holland. How on earth did I miss seeing Henry?
She knew the answer all too well. She had eyes only for John Russell. She grudgingly admitted the surly sod was the sole purpose of her visit today.

Georgina was disappointed when the parliamentary session ended abruptly and it was ruled that the members would address the subject tomorrow and thereafter until they reached a resolution.

George was in no hurry to leave the gallery, and by the time they descended the stairs, the members of parliament were also leaving. “Don't rush out, Georgina. Let's wait for Lennox. I'd like a word with him.”

She acquiesced against her better judgment. She didn't want John Russell to know she had been in the gallery today.

“Charles. Over here!” George raised his voice and waved.

Lennox spoke over his shoulder to a couple of men behind him, and they cut through the crowd toward George.

“How about attending the Newmarket races this weekend?”

“I'd love to, George.” Charles turned to Lord Holland. “How about you, Henry? Newmarket this weekend?”

“Why not? I haven't been to the races in an age.” He turned to his friend John Russell. "How about you, John?”

"Sorry. My sons are back at school, and I promised to visit with them at Westminster this weekend.”

Georgina's eyes met Russell's. She looked away quickly, and smiled at Lord Holland, who never missed a chance to lightly flirt with her. "How are you, Henry? I took great delight in watching you from the gallery this afternoon.”

"You know exactly how to flatter a man, Lady Georgina. But John here was the one to watch today.” He addressed Russell. "Your brother, Francis, invited Beth and myself to the Woburn races the following weekend. I hope you can attend Bedford's annual affair. Beth and I haven't seen your wife in ages.”

"My wife is visiting her sister, Lady Bath, but I hope to be at Woburn for the annual races.” John's dark glance swept over Georgina and came to rest on the brilliant poppies decorating her hat. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
The bold young hussy is deliberately flamboyant so she can catch every male eye and be the center of attention.

"Then the plans are set,” George declared. "Newmarket this weekend and Woburn next.”

"Will you be joining your brother, Lady Georgina?” Lord Holland asked. "Beth would enjoy your company.”

Georgina saw the dark frown of disapproval on the old man's face.

"No,” George said firmly. "My sister doesn't make her debut until the first week of October.”

Georgina's glance swept over Russell's face, and she smiled sweetly. "All plans should be made for the happiness of the many and not for the benefit of the few.”

John Russell knew she was deliberately mocking him. He had said those words in connection with the government when they had dined together at Marylebone Manor.
The girl needs her arse tanned.

It seemed like every hour of every day was taken up with plans concerning Georgina's coming debut. There were fittings for her new wardrobe as well as shopping excursions to Bond Street. She spent an entire day on the guest list for her coming-out ball, but the following day her mother pointed out just how many important people she had overlooked, and together they amended it.

"he list totals three hundred!” Georgina protested.

"There is no point in having a coming-out ball unless it is on a grand scale. And you can be sure the Duchess of Devonshire will invite everyone in fashionable society, including his brother, to the ball she throws for her daughter Dorothy.”

"That reminds me, I have a dancing class at Devonshire House this afternoon.”

"No, I have arranged for the dancing master to come here for the next two weeks. The Cavendish girls will have to have their lessons here for a change.”

"Oh dear, this is shaping up to be a battle of the maternal rivals,” Georgina said with amusement.

"Rubbish! We have collaborated so that our daughters' coming-out balls fall on different nights of the week. I'll have the invitations printed immediately so that our footmen can deliver them personally.”

The following day, Georgina enjoyed a respite from discussions of gowns, guests, food, and flower arrangements for her ball, when her brother escorted her to visit the House of Lords, as promised.

As she looked down from the gallery, she recognized some of the faces. "There is the Duke of Devonshire.”

"Good God, there's an aberration for you. The man leads a nocturnal life and spends every night at Brooks's Club swilling booze until his back teeth float. This will likely be his sole appearance in the Lords all year.”

"He never smiles.” Georgina felt pity for his family.

"He can't smile. The muscles of his face have been paralyzed by sugar of lead that he applies to conceal the redness.”

"I am getting an education today.” Her avid glance moved about the benches. "There's Susan's husband. I must say, the Duke of Manchester looks bored to death. I don't think he's listening.”

"Of course not. William is far too athletic to sit still and listen to a debate on the Irish problem.”

"He is an extremely handsome man.”
Susan did well for herself.

"Yes, women go mad over him.”

"Francis Russell is about to enter the debate.”

Since this was the man whom Georgina had come to observe, she focused her attention on him and listened.
Though his argument is solid enough, the Duke of Bedford is addressing his opponent with utter indifference.
She watched as he gave sneering replies to his adversaries. "Bedford treats everyone with contempt.”

"Oh, Francis has atrocious manners.”

"Fortunately, he is wealthy enough to get away with it.”

She changed the subject. "The House of Lords is supposed to keep a check on government by scrutinizing its activities. And it also has the power of veto over the House of Commons, I believe.”

"I'm amazed you have an interest in this political rambling.”

Georgina gazed down at Francis Russell.
He is better looking than his stern-faced brother, John, and he is certainly a fashion plate, but there is a debauched look about him somehow. He gives off the scent of lechery. I warrant he's a self-indulgent devil, but as the richest duke in England, how could he be otherwise?

At four sharp, the debate ended. The noblemen had far more important interests to pursue than government matters. Their clubs beckoned, where they were free to indulge their twin vices of drink and gaming.

George tried to catch up with his brother-in-law as he left parliament, but the Duke of Manchester's carriage was at the door waiting for him.

Georgina stared after William Montagu. "Who the devil was that woman in William's carriage? It certainly wasn't Susan.”

George shrugged. "One of his
petites amies
, I expect.”

Georgina was shocked, and felt outrage for her sister.

"Huntly, what are you doing here?”Francis Russell asked as his glance licked over Georgina.

"Oh, hello, Bedford. I just missed Manchester. I was going to ask him if he was going to your races at Woburn this weekend.”

"Yes, Manchester accepted my invitation. Dare I hope that Lady Georgina will be joining us?”

"You may always hope, Your Grace,” Georgina said coolly.

"She will
not
be joining us. My sister is teasing you.”

"She certainly is,” Bedford drawled.

"We visited the Commons last week, where I observed your brother addressing the Irish problem.”

"How do we compare?” Francis asked smugly.

"Your brother is far more passionate.”

"Not in all things.” His words were deliberately
risqué.

"That remains to be seen, Your Grace. Good day.”

George hurried to catch up with his sister, who had walked away. "You shouldn't banter with Bedford like that. He is a known womanizer.”

"From what I've observed lately, what nobleman isn't?”

"He's more profligate than others. His mistresses are legion. I'd just like you to be careful, Georgy. After your debut, the men will be swarming about you like bees round a honeypot.”

"I am in no hurry to be leg-shackled, George, especially to a man with a string of mistresses.”

"Leg-shackled is a term used by the male of the species.”

"Until now. Perhaps I'll set a new fashion.”

"You underestimate Mother's husband-hunting abilities. They don't call her the 'Whipper-in' for nothing.”

are truly happy?
Georgina shivered and sent up a silent prayer.

"Are you cold?” George asked with concern.

"No, no. Just a goose walking over my grave.”

 
Francis Russell returned to the Bedford London mansion in Russell Square. Not only did the Russells own the mansion and the entire square, they owned all of Bloomsbury. The brothers used different wings of the mansion whenever they were in London, but they often supped together in the evenings after their parliamentary sessions.

Francis drove through the wrought-iron gates and turned his phaeton over to a stableman. As he was walking through the gardens toward the house, he ran into his brother. "Hello, John. Why the frown?”

"Francis, these gardens are in a hell of a state. The place is like an overgrown jungle. I thought you were going to get someone in here to redesign them and make the place look civilized.”

"Never seem to find the time. You worry about things too much. You always put duty before pleasure and expect me to do the same.”

"If you can't find the time, Francis, I'll do it. Humphrey Repton is a great landscape gardener—just the man we need.”