The Decadent Duke (25 page)

“I fancy the one you bid on, Francis,” Edward remarked glumly.

“Then be my guest. I'm off to Brooks's.”

 
It was four in the morning when Bedford returned home to Russell Square. At the club he'd lost money because his mind was not on the game but elsewhere. Thoughts of Georgina Gordon persistently intruded, playing merry hell with his concentration. Finally, he gave up, tipped the porter who summoned his carriage, and allowed his mind to fully focus on the object of his desire.

As he disrobed for bed, he played a game of “what if.” John had been nagging him to consider taking a wife, and for the first time in his life, he thought about it seriously.

Georgina would be an exciting woman to bed. She is a combination of innocence and recklessness. It would be fun to teach her to be wild and wanton.
His hand went to his groin.
Christ, my cock is so hard, I could crack walnuts with it!

The only drawback is the thought of the Duchess of Gordon.
Then he mused that Jane Gordon was a voluptuary, and without doubt would be rewarding in bed. The thought that the daughter would take after the mother suddenly added to her allure.

The duke realized he would never be able to sleep with an erection. He rang the bell to summon a housemaid.

“Since the Duke and Duchess of Manchester are hosting the Christmas festivities for the Gordon clan at Kimbolton this year, I advised Susan to hold your debutante ball on December twentieth, so that we need not return to London after the party.”

“That's a fabulous idea, Mother. Kimbolton Castle is a fascinating place. It will be fun to spend some time there. Poor Queen Katherine of Aragon was imprisoned there in her final days, over two centuries ago, and I hope to catch a glimpse of her ghost that is reputed to float through the galleries.”

"“Katherine's specter is no doubt restless due to the uninhibited parties that Susan and William throw at the castle,” Huntly teased.

“I've no notion why you call them
uninhibited
, George. The Manchesters' entertainments are filled with innocent fun and frolic aimed at making their guests laugh and be merry.”

George repeated the witty words his sister had used. “Close. The word I was thinking of begins with the letter F.”

“Mother, you banned me from Kimbolton until after I came out,” Georgina reminded her. “I shall be desolate if there isn't at least one illicit liaison being carried on among the guests!”

George winked. “You won't be disappointed. I'll go and clean my guns. There's bound to be at least one shooting party.”

“I dropped a hint to Susan that she invite the Duke of Bedford to stay for a couple of days,” Jane confided.

“In that case, George, can you lend me one of your guns?”

“Is that supposed to be amusing, Georgina?” Jane asked archly.

“Well, you cannot deny we are on a hunt, Mother. Ah, here is the post.” She tore open an envelope embossed with the ducal crest of Manchester. “Susan's invitations are exceedingly fancy; they must have cost the earth.”

“That is why I aspire to a match with a duke for you, Georgy. You will be able to lavishly indulge all your fancies.”

“Here's a note from Susan. She's invited the Duke of Bedford for three days, from the nineteenth to the twenty-first, so we will have to be there the day before the ball.” Georgina scanned the invitation. “Oh, how exciting! Susan's ball is to be a masquerade.”

“We must get to work on our costumes immediately. We have no time to lose.”

Georgina winked at George. “The
sewing women
will have no time to lose. Mother speaks as if she intends to make her own.”

“I heard that! Don't think I couldn't make my own. I'm very handy with a needle, and I passed my sewing and knitting skills on to my daughters, as a devoted mother should.”

“I apologize profusely. You are a paragon among mothers,v Georgina teased. “Why don't you go as the Goddess Diana?”

“I do get the allusion, Georgy. Goddess of the hunt would be far too obvious, even for me.” Jane joined in the laughter. “You could go as Queen Katherine, since she fascinates you, my dear.”

“Never! She was far too good and pious.”

“Georgy would prefer to be someone wicked like Anne Boleyn,” her brother jested.

“I would never portray any of King Henry VIII's wives. I'd have more good sense than to wed a womanizing swine!”

“Then why don't
you
be Diana of the hunt?”

Georgina's eyes glittered with mischief. "“By God, I'll do it! I'll need a bow and some arrows. I already have the gold paint.”

 
“Here's an envelope from the Manchesters. An invitation, no doubt.” John handed Francis the post that had arrived at Woburn.

“I've been expecting this. It's been delayed because it was first delivered to Russell Square before it was forwarded on.” Bedford opened the invitation. “Damnation, it's to be held on the twentieth, but I'm invited to stay from the day before until the day after the masquerade ball. What's today's date?” John looked at the newspaper. “It's the eighteenth.”

“Christ, they are expecting me tomorrow.”

The thought of Francis spending three days in the company of the alluring Lady Georgina filled John with dismay.

“Send your regrets. Mr. Burke will have a servant deliver it tonight. Kimbolton is only a dozen miles from Woburn.”

“Regrets? Are you mad? I wouldn't miss this for the world. Their weekend entertainments are legend. After visiting the Devonshires' mausoleum of Chatsworth, Kimbolton Castle will feel like I've been resurrected. Oh, sorry, John, ignore my allusions to death.” Francis apologized with the sincerity of a hedonist. “I'll be back late on the twenty-first. You won't mind putting off your trip to Tavistock until I return, will you, old man?”

“Of course not.” John amended his itinerary. “My plans aren't set in stone. It will give me a chance to spend more of the Yule holidays with young Francis and William.v

“I'll need a costume for the masquerade. What do you suggest?”

“Casanova, perhaps?”

“You have a dry wit, John. Often, I don't know if you're serious or jesting. But your suggestion has merit. As a connoisseur of fine fashion, food, wine, and women, I have much in common with Giacomo.”

“I have that fabulous gold brocade coat I had made in Venice. Casanova wore his own long black hair powdered and scented, as I shall do. All I need is that golden Venetian mask I brought back and a dueling pistol, and my disguise is complete.”

“None will recognize you,” John said without a hint of sarcasm.

“Casanova was a womanizer who used charm, guile, intimidation, and aggression to conquer women.v Francis winked. “As I said, we've much in common.”

“He often left behind children and debt.”

Francis laughed. “Well, mea culpa on the bastards, but I have never left a debt unpaid.v He glanced at the clock. “Christ, I'll never be ready to leave in the morning.”

“Mr. Burke will organize everything and pack whatever you need. I hope you realize how fortunate you are to have him as steward.”

“Au contraire. He's fortunate to have me as master.”

“I've just had a brilliant idea. Why don't you come to Kimbolton and attend the Manchesters' masquerade on the night of the twentieth? I know you are technically in mourning, but if you are masked and costumed, none will recognize you.”

“Brilliant indeed,v John said dryly. “Don't waste your evening trying to find me.v

“Not bloody likely! The irresistible Lady Georgina will occupy my evening. When I compare her to the Devonshires' daughter, I cannot believe I entertained the idea of a match with the gauche little mouse.”

John stiffened. “I'll let you get on with your packing. The boys were having a game of chess before bed. I'll go and check on them. If I don't see you in the morning, enjoy rubbing elbows with the Gordons. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“I intend to rub more than elbows,” Francis said with a leer. “Masquerades are blatant excuses for dalliance. I warrant I'll be able to collect on my wager with Prince Edward.v

With difficulty, John held on to his temper. He suspected the wager was about Georgina, and it was all he could do to control his vicious desire to smash his brother in the face. As he climbed the stairs he thought,
Francis has me pegged right—privately, I'm only technically mourning Elizabeth. My secret thoughts about Georgina Gordon would shame the devil himself.

John found William and Francis playing cards and tried not to censure them. “What happened to the chess?”

“Johnny beats us every time,” Francis declared. “The little pissant is too clever by half.”

“What card game are you playing?”

“Lanterloo—Uncle Francis taught us how to play. The game isn't much fun with only two. Would you join us, Father?”

“I don't really like you to game. Do you do it at school?”

His sons looked at each other guiltily.

“Go on, deal the cards. I'll play one game with you.” John picked up his cards and put a guinea in the pot. He knew each son had only a couple of guineas' pocket money. When they bet all they had, John took the final two tricks and pocketed their money.

“It's not really the gaming I disapprove of. It's the betting. Good night, boys.”

He went into Johnny's room and found him in bed reading. “I hear you soundly trounced your brothers at chess.”

“I couldn't believe it—both of them made terrible blunders with their rooks.”

John smiled knowingly. “While they are thinking of attacks, you are thinking of
planning
attacks. By the way, our plans have changed. We won't be going to Tavistock until December twenty-second.”

“I'm looking forward to our journey to Devon.”

“So am I. Good night, Johnny. Don't burn the midnight oil too much longer.”

 
“You're a wretched tease, Georgy. We invite Bedford so you can get to know each other better, and you deliberately make yourself scarce when you were supposed to be in the great hall to receive him,” Susan complained.

“He arrived early—obviously panting to get a glimpse of me.”

“You're a shameless hussy. Since Kimbolton stands at the head of the fen country, William has arranged a hunt.”

“I shall decline. The fens are open to the winter winds.”

“The winds are in March. This is only December. Get into your riding habit or I shall set the bloody dogs on you, Georgy. Three days of entertainment have been planned solely for your benefit, so you had better cooperate, Mistress Contrary.”

“Since you ask so sweetly, how can I possibly resist?”
It will give me the chance to show off my new apricot velvet habit.

Georgina took her time dressing for the hunt. After she pulled on her long black riding boots, she donned a saucy hat, which sported a black ostrich feather that curled under her chin. She picked up her sketch pad and some charcoal, then slowly descended the magnificent staircase that led down to the great hall.

“We almost left without you,” her brother, Huntly, declared.

She glanced over at Francis Russell, who was finishing off a stirrup cup. “I would have been devastated.”

Bedford set down his empty drinking vessel. “You make a most arresting entrance, descending the stairs.” He noticed the pad of paper she carried. “Do you sketch, Lady Georgina?”

“Among other things,vshe replied in a suggestive voice. “I'm particularly good at capturing wildlife.”

“Man or beast?” he drawled.

“I intend to sketch a fen waterfowl. A far more civilized endeavor than hunting and killing them, don't you think, sir?”

“I never professed to be civilized,” Francis taunted.

“At least you are honest.”

“Brutally.”

The swine likes to have the last word. I've noticed it runs in the family.
Georgina chided herself for thinking about John. She gave Francis a radiant smile. “Shall we go, Your Grace, before Susan and William start frothing at the mouth?”

Together they walked toward the stables, where the hunting party and their attendants were gathered in the courtyard. Bedford helped her to mount, and they walked their horses through the rustling carpet of leaves that lay beneath the great bare elms. They followed the other riders through the gateway in the wall and across the castle's double ditch. The duke glanced back at Kimbolton. “It has a grand feudal air about it.”

“It was built as a stronghold, guarding the road from Bedford to Huntingdon. Bedford inhabitants must have posed a threat.”

“We still do,” he promised.

“Forewarned is forearmed,” she replied, refusing to let him have the last word. She urged her horse into a gallop, passing Susan and her groom, and caught up to William and George.

The fen reeds were dry and the dogs raced ahead, flushing a covey of marsh ducks. They quacked their protest at being rudely disturbed, and a couple fell to the hunters' guns.

Georgina drew rein and held her mount in check until everyone in the party rode past her, including Francis Russell. Then she doubled back and led her horse in a different direction, where she anticipated being alone to observe nature.