The Decadent Duke (14 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

BOOK: The Decadent Duke
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"If Repton suits you, he suits me. Let's go and eat. Would you like to join me at Brooks's tonight?”
"No, thanks. I'm working on a speech I intend to deliver in the House tomorrow. This Irish matter must be resolved.”
"There you go again—duty before pleasure. With your wife off visiting her sister, you should take time for something pleasurable.”
"I am—I'm coming to Woburn this weekend for the annual races.”
In the dining room, over dinner, Francis eyed his brother with speculative eyes. "Do you know, wearing your own dark hair is rather striking. I've been considering leaving off my wig. It could set a new fashion.”
"I wear my own hair to protest the tax on flour. It has nothing to do with fashion.”
"But if I did it, John, it would have everything to do with fashion. You know I'm all for pleasure before duty.”
"I am well aware, Francis.”
"You say that as if I am derelict in my duty.”
"In one thing you are absolutely derelict. As the Duke of Bedford you need an heir. You have vast wealth, enormous property holdings in London, as well as estates in the shires of Bedford, Buckingham, Cambridge, Devon, and Northampton. You need a son and heir to pass all this on to, and to carry on your name.”
"I would need to
marry
to beget an heir,” Francis said dryly.
"You would indeed. At thirty-six, soon to be thirty-seven years old, surely it is time to start looking about you for a suitable wife?”
"You never seem to tire of nagging me on this subject, but as usual, John, though I hate to admit it, you are right. I just cannot contemplate limiting myself to one woman.”
"I doubt you could, or that you would even try. Nevertheless, your need for an heir grows with every passing year. You also need an official mistress for Woburn, and only a legitimate wife can fulfill that role.”
Francis sighed and drained his glass of claret. "A political alliance between the leading Whig duke and the daughter of the leading Whig hostess would no doubt fulfill society's expectations.”
"Good God, the Devonshires' daughter is little more than a child. Francis, what can you be thinking?”
"The young lady is making her debut soon. I'm invited to her coming-out ball at Devonshire House.”
"That makes her eighteen at most,” John protested.
"Wasn't Elizabeth eighteen when you married her?”
"Yes, but I was nineteen, not a middle-aged man of thirty-seven.”
"For Christ's sake, John! First you urge me to marry; then, when I agree to consider the matter, you throw obstacles in my path and do all you can to deter me.”
John put up his hand. "I'm sorry, Francis. I have no right to interfere in your life. I just wanted to prod you into at least thinking about marriage. I will refrain from advising you on your choice of wife. God knows, my own marriage gives me no authority to set myself up as an example.”
"No need to apologize to me, John. You have always been a steadying force in my life. Your resolve is like a rock.v He changed the subject. "Prinny is coming to Woburn for the races, as well as Prince Edward. I have a huge wager with Edward on each and every race. The foolish fellow is addicted to gambling.v
John's dark brows drew together, puzzled that Francis did not recognize his own obsession with gaming.
Bite your tongue, John.
 
"I fancy a long drive in the country this weekend. The autumn leaves will be spectacular.v Jane Gordon took it for granted that Georgina would fall in with her plans.
"Where did you have in mind?” Georgina knew her mother seldom did anything without an ulterior motive.
"Kimbolton, as a matter of fact. Your sister, the Duchess of Manchester, has a magnificent collection of Georgian silver that I wouldn't mind borrowing for your coming-out ball.”
"Surely all you need do is drop Susan a note, and she will bring whatever you fancy when she and William come for my presentation to Queen Charlotte.”
"True enough, my dear. But Kimbolton has such treasures; I warrant I may see other things I could use to impress the
haut ton
who will be coming to our ball.”
Georgina smiled her secret smile.
There's her ulterior motive
.
 
When the carriage stopped in the courtyard of the ancient Abbey of Saint Albans to water the horses, Georgina and her mother took the opportunity to stretch their legs.
The Duchess of Gordon made a small, charitable donation to the Benedictine monks prior to climbing the famous tower. It gave them a spectacular view of the majestic Chiltern Hills that were garbed in their scarlet, orange, and yellow autumn finery.
Georgina saw her mother's eyes glisten with tears. "It reminds you of Scotland ... Try not to let it make you feel sad.”
"I didn't get to visit my beloved Kinrara this summer,v Jane said wistfully. "I missed seeing the woods filled with fawns.”
"Your precious memories are etched forever in your heart and soul. You will enjoy it twice as much next summer.”
"Yes, I shall be free as a bird by then ... if we get you happily married, of course.”
I have no doubt you will do your damnedest to get me wed, Mother. How happy I will be, however, will depend upon my own determination and resolve.
Before they departed, the ladies refreshed themselves with the famous ale brewed by the Benedictine monks. Jane allowed their coachman a large mug to quench his thirst before he climbed back up to his seat.
Georgina removed her cloak because the late morning had warmed considerably since they'd left London, and sat back against the velvet squabs to admire the view. After a minute or two, she glanced at her mother. "He's taken the wrong road, I think. The town of Baldock is north; then we go through Temps-ford before we reach Kimbolton Castle.”
"It's all right, Georgy. I told the driver my change of plans.”
"What change of plans?”
"It suddenly occurred to me that this weekend is the Woburn races. Susan will most likely be accompanying Manchester to the great sporting event. It could be a complete waste of time to go to Kimbolton.”
Suddenly occurred to you, my arse! I knew you had an ulterior motive, but didn't guess how devious you could be. I'm not nearly as shrewd as I imagined.
"How fortunate that the Woburn races will be chockablock with eligible bachelors, Georgina.”
Not the least of which will be the lecherous Duke of Bedford.
She opened her mouth to protest, then bethought that the dangerous devil, John Russell, would be there. Georgina suddenly decided to keep a wise silence.
"Well, I'll be damned,” George Gordon declared when he fell in beside his young sister as she trailed behind her mother, making a direct path to the Woburn racecourse. "The Whipper-in has already laid her plans for the fox hunt of the Season. How the devil did she get you to agree to come?”
"She outfoxed me! Allegedly, Kimbolton was our destination. Her maneuvers are so bloody transparent, I am humiliated,” Georgina said with a blush.
"Well, you and I know what she's up to, but perhaps no one else will guess.”
"They're not idiots, George.” Georgina saw Prinny laughing with his brother Edward at the antics of a pet monkey dressed up as a jockey. "I am mistaken—they
are
idiots.”
"She's dangling the bait in front of Bedford, but I don't think you'll come to any harm with your mother, brother, and a pair of your brothers-in-law present. The bait looks delicious, by the way.”
"I wore this outfit thinking I was going to Kimbolton Castle. It's rather dramatic for a race meet.”
"It's decidedly racy,” he punned with a wink.
"Father had this Black Watch kilt made for me in Edinburgh. It reveals my legs. I didn't know I'd have an audience.”
George laughed. "All the gentlemen will be praying for the wind to pick up.v
"If it does, I shall simply put my cloak back on.” She returned his wink. "Or perhaps, on a whim, I won't.”
"Scotland forever!” they said in unison.
Georgina saw that her mother had joined Susan near the grandstand and decided it was her chance to slip away from parental control. Her brother told her that they had arrived too late for the first minor race, but that the second would be run shortly. "Lend me a guinea, George, and point out a bookmaker; then I shall happily allow you to escape.”
"Done!” he said, fishing in his pocket for the coin.
The fellow taking the bets was in conversation with the Earl of Lauderdale and seemed to be having difficulty understanding the Scot's thick brogue.
"I'll act as your interpreter, James, if you'll tell me who's running in this race.”
"Lady Georgina, ye've saved ma bacon. Tell this laddie I want tae place a bet on ma own horse, Strathspey.”
"How much?”
"A hundred guineas.”
"Is that all? You are ever the frugal Scot. Surely you have more confidence in your own animal than that, James?”
“Go on, make it two hundred. Strathspey canna lose.”
Georgina arranged the bet for Lauderdale and gave him a saucy smile. “Thanks for the tip.” She listened carefully as he named the other horses in the race and turned back to the bookmaker. She proffered her own guinea and placed her bet. Then she headed toward the grandstand so she could watch the race.
As she walked along, she was aware that every head turned to stare at the young lady sporting the kilt and doublet. She fingered the large amethyst in her thistle broach.
Father, you have made me the talk of the Woburn races. I can run and hide, or I can thumb my nose at drab respectability and act with bravado.
Georgina caught up with Lord Lauderdale. Since he was a Scot, and a widower to boot, she felt safe with him. She bit her lip with vexation as he hailed his great friend Francis Russell. As she had anticipated, the Duke of Bedford's lustful eyes lingered on her legs with appreciation before he raised them to her face.
“What a delightful surprise. Your brother told me in no uncertain terms that you would not be accepting my invitation for the weekend.”
“Ah, I'm afraid I'm not here for the weekend, Your Grace. It was imperative that Mother contact my sister, the Duchess of Manchester, on a family matter. We shall be leaving shortly.”
“Surely not before you watch the main event for the Woburn Gold Cup? I insist you stay and partake of my hospitality. It will be an honor to serve as your escort, Lady Georgina.”
She relented a little. “Well, I shall certainly watch the upcoming race, since I have placed a wager on it.”
Lauderdale clapped Bedford on the back. “Strathspey's the horse tae beat. I hope ye have money on him, Francis.”
“I do, James, since I don't have one of my own horses in this race. The odds are only two to one, but there is a thrill to backing a winner that has little to do with money.”
Only a man with more riches than Croesus would think that.
Georgina stepped closer to the rail. “It's about to start!” She watched avidly as the horses swept past them, raising a cloud of dust beneath their thundering hooves. At the same time, she was acutely aware that Bedford's eyes were focused on her.
Mother too will be watching me with bated breath. Please don't get your hopes up, Duchess Drinkwater.
The ending of the race was exciting, and a great babble of voices rose up as Strathspey and another racehorse galloped neck and neck down the stretch. A collective sigh could be heard when Strathspey lost by only a head.
“Hellfire and damnation!” Lauderdale shouted, visibly crestfallen. “I'm sorry, lassie, ye've lost yer bet.”
“James, please don't be sorry. I didn't lose. I won!”
“How did ye win?” he puzzled as Bedford listened intently.
“I didn't bet on Strathspey. I placed my wager on Silky Sullivan. An Irish horse will beat a Scottish horse every time. I thought that was common knowledge, but perhaps not, since the odds were twenty to one.”
Francis Russell threw back his head and roared with laughter. He laughed even harder when he saw his friend's face turn purple with ire. “The joke's on you, James, to let a slip of a girl beat you at your own game!”
“And how much did you lose, Your Grace?” Georgina asked pointedly. “Oh, I forgot. It isn't about the money ... it's about the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat.”
Francis placed his fingers beneath her chin and looked at her. He made no effort to conceal the hot desire in his eyes. “You enjoy being cruel to me. The shoe might be on the other foot someday, mistress, and you will beg for mercy.”
“Do you often delude yourself, Your Grace?” she asked sweetly. “I know you gentlemen will excuse me while I go and collect my winnings.”
Georgina walked away from them so rapidly, she was panting by the time she found the bookmaker and presented her ticket. When he put the twenty guineas in her hand, she felt rich beyond her dreams. She'd never had more than a sovereign in pocket money.
She turned away quickly and almost collided with John Russell, who had also come to collect his winnings.
His dark, disapproving glance swept over her in the short kilt, and she felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to sink through the turf. Her pleasure at winning was wiped away.
Why the devil does he make me feel like an audacious baggage?
She raised her chin and said defensively, “I bet on the winner.”
“Congratulations. Making wagers is obviously a game you enjoy. I too bet on the Irish horse.”
“Twenty-five quid pays five hundred, m'lord.” The bookmaker inquired if he'd placed his bet on the Woburn cup race.

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