Bertrice Small - Deceived

Trahern brushed past the butler. "Calandra, mon ange," he began effusively, and then stopped, surprised.

Manners closed the door behind him, and then, looking about to ascertain that he was not being observed, listened at the door to the morning room to hear what was transpiring within.

Charles Trahern gaped, astonished. Before him stood the farmer duke, as he had always called Valerian Hawkesworth behind his back, and by his side was Calandra's sister, the sharp-tongued Aurora. "Where is Calandra?" he demanded of them. "I was told the Duchess of Farminster would receive me this morning. Good Lord, Hawkesworth, you can't be jealous! Have you forbidden Calandra my wicked company, and having found no victim in the country, are you about to foist your sister-in-law upon me? Calandra always did say we would be a good match."

"I wouldn't marry you, Trahern, if you were the last virile man upon this earth," Aurora told him acidly, "and besides, I am already married. You asked to see the Duchess of Farminster, and behold you see her. What may I do for you? Valerian, my darling, a whiskey for Trahern, please. He looks a bit green about the gills."

Charles Trahern fell back dramatically upon a satin striped settee. "Where is Calandra?" he gasped. "What have you done with her?"

The duke placed a tumbler of whiskey in their guest's hand and sat himself opposite Trahern while Aurora settled herself next to the astounded man. "Calandra died in childbirth, Charles," he said quietly. "The infant was too large to be birthed naturally. When the doctor attempted to remove it surgically, he found the child dead in its mother's womb, the cord about its neck. It was a daughter."

"When did this happen?" Trahern asked.

"On the last day of October," the duke said.

"And you married Aurora?" Now even the unshockable Lord Trahern was shocked. "When?"

"On the fourth of November," Hawkesworth replied calmly.

" 'Pon my soul, Hawkesworth," Lord Trahern exclaimed, "You have scandalized even me! Something I surely never expected you to do. Granted, neither you nor Calandra had any real feeling for one another, but that is not so unusual in a marriage between people of our rank. Yet your wife is not even cold in her grave when you turn about and marry her sister? 'Tis shocking! Simply shocking!" Trahern gulped down his whiskey and held the crystal tumbler out to be refilled.

Aurora arose from her place by his side and walked across the room to fetch the decanter back to where their guest sat, almost sprawled with his trauma upon the settee. "Are you going to have an attack of the vapors, Trahern?" she asked him, amused, as she poured the smoky liquor into the crystal. "Oh, do explain, Valerian, or our reputations will be ruined in polite society." She placed the decanter on a side table and rejoined the gentlemen.

"It is really all quite simple, Trahern," the duke began. "Calandra was not the heiress to St. Timothy. She was not born a Kimberly, but, rather, a Spencer. She was Robert Kimberly's stepdaughter, but she wanted to be a duchess, and Aurora, who is the true heiress, did not. Since both girls bore the identical first name, Charlotte, they decided to switch identities. After all, Calandra lived practically her entire life upon St. Timothy. It was not difficult even for her."

"You did not wish to be a duchess?" Poor Lord Trahern was astonished with his disbelief. What girl wouldn't want to be a duchess?

"Actually," Aurora elucidated, "I didn't wish to marry a stranger. If Valerian had come to St. Timothy and courted me, it might have been different." She turned and smiled at her husband.

"Of course it would have been different," he replied, returning her smile. "The minx didn't even give me a chance. So believing that Calandra was my bride, I married her, with even as you will admit, Trahern, disastrous results. Calandra loved my wealth and my position and all the things it entailed. She did not, however, love me."

"She didn't have to," Trahern interrupted, "as long as she produced an heir or two for you, Hawkesworth. How many wives actually love their husbands? Oh, some may, and others may harbor an affection for their mates, but most women of our class dislike their husbands intensely. We marry for land and power, not love. It is a wife's duty to give her husband children, preferably his children. Only then is she free to pursue her own pleasures. How on earth did you find out the deception that had been played upon you?"

The duke explained.

"But why the scandalous haste to remarry?" Lord Trahern asked when the duke had concluded his account. "Aurora was in your charge as long as she remained in England. Did you think she would flee you?"

The duke chuckled. "She tried to," he replied. "But of more importance was her engagement to my cousin, St. John. She was so pigheaded that she was determined she was wildly in love with him, and would marry him, and no one else."

"Well, I do harbor an affection for St. John," Aurora answered mischievously. "He has great charm, Trahern. Have you ever met him? I do believe that you would do quite well together. He may be coming up to London, wife hunting. No title, of course, but he is outrageously wealthy with a magnificent estate. I do believe I shall put him in your charge. Would you do me that favor?"

" 'Pon my soul!" Lord Trahern exclaimed.

"Well, Valerian and St. John have this ridiculous rivalry, and have had, so the dowager tells me, since they were boys. I do not think my husband will be content until St. John has his own wife, Trahern, and I know absolutely no one in London other than yourself. You do know everyone of importance, my lord," Aurora flattered him.

"A truth, a truth," Trahern admitted dryly, and then, "So, Hawkesworth, you married Aurora to prevent her running off with your cousin, and thereby cheating you of St. Timothy. An outrageous explanation, but perfectly reasonable under the circumstances. Since neither of you really likes London, I suppose you have come up from the country to ride out the scandal your actions have caused. 'Twas wise of you."

"Oh, Trahern!" Aurora said enthusiastically. "I am so glad you understand, and will aid us! Cally was right. You really are a fine fellow. I know your friendship meant much to her, my poor sister."

"Did it?" Trahern's voice quavered a moment. "She was such a beautiful girl. She had style and she had elegance. I believe she could have been one of London's most famous hostesses, given the opportunity."

"Oh, yes," Aurora agreed with him. "Cally was socially clever."

"Indeed!" Trahern assented. Then he turned to the duke. "Have you the aegis to meet their majesties? The queen is delightful. Ingenuous, and perhaps a trifle unsophisticated for my taste, but the king adores her. She is quite to his taste, I fear, and one must step carefully these days at court. Unlike the previous two reigns, morality rules."

"The Earl of Bute has arranged our introduction," the duke responded.

"Bute? Well,well, Hawkesworth, you surprise me. Bute is quite the closest to the king other than the queen. How on earth do you know Bute? He's no insider, and quite disliked by the Whigs, although the Tories will side with him even if they like him no better."

"His mother and my grandmother knew each other," the duke answered Lord Trahern. "I sold him some breeding stock a few years ago, and have some small acquaintance with him, but it was really my grandmother's connection that made the arrangement," Valerian admitted.

Lord Trahern nodded. "One uses what one can to get ahead socially," he said, "but don't rely on Bute for too much. It is unlikely he will be around in any capacity of power for very long." Setting his empty crystal tumbler down, he arose. "I really must be going," he told them. "I am meeting friends at Boodles."

"Boodles?" The duke cocked his head curiously.

"A new club," Trahern said. " 'Tis over in St. James's Street. The food is quite good and the gaming great sport. You must have a membership if you are going to remain in London for even a short time, Hawkesworth. I shall sponsor you myself. There are quite a number of country gentlemen like yourself who belong." He picked up his tricorn and settled it on his head.

Aurora stood, offering her hand to Lord Trahern. "You are really so generous, my lord. I know Valerian is most appreciative too, aren't you, my darling?"

"Oh… yes," the duke replied, forcing a smile.

Lord Trahern kissed Aurora's hand. "While I am quite devastated by the news of Calandra's death, I am so pleased we are to be friends, my dear Aurora." He smiled toothily at her.

She gently extracted her hand from his grip, smiling back. "It is wonderful to know we have such a good friend, my lord. I know my dear Cally would be happy to know it too."

Together the ducal couple escorted their guest into the main foyer of the house. Manners opened the door, and Lord Trahern, blowing a kiss to Aurora with his fingertips, departed. His haste to hurry forth and spread the word of what he had just heard was patently evident.

Valerian Hawkesworth turned to his wife. "You are extraordinary," he said admiringly. "You have missed your calling, Aurora. You would be a most superb actress."

"Being an actress is hardly as respectable as being a duchess," she replied pertly.

"I thought you did not want to be a duchess," he teased her as they returned to the morning room.

"I have changed my mind," she said calmly. "I adore being a duchess as long as I can be your wife, Valerian."

"Sometimes," he said, "I want to strangle you." And then, "You were quite good with Trahern, my darling. How do you manage? He is really a dreadful little toad."

"But a gossipy toad," she replied, "and since he will gossip, I should prefer he be our friend rather than our enemy, Valerian. I spoke the truth when I told him he knows everyone of importance. He does. Cally saw it immediately, and that is why she latched on to him, for he was her ticket to those heady social heights she so longed to climb. He will tell our tale cleverly and with wry humor. Some will be shocked, but most people in the ton will, as your grandmother so wisely observed, be amused by your haste to marry me and secure my dowry. With Trahern on our side, there will be no scandal in London."

"But we want to be at Hawkes Hill, and there is scandal there," the duke observed.

"It is only temporary, my darling," she reassured him. "There is bound to be another scandal in the district soon enough. Don't forget that St. John is once more a footloose bachelor. Heaven only knows what mischief he will get into before the spring." And then she laughed.

The Earl of Bute was giving a ball, and it was there that Valerian and Aurora would be presented to their majesties.

"You will beggar me with your extravagance," the duke groaned when he saw Aurora's ball gown. "You are no better than your sister, I fear, and will certainly put me in the poorhouse."

"Oh, pooh, my lord!" she responded sharply. "You are a rich man, and I have brought you a rich dowry. You certainly cannot want me to greet their majesties looking like a milkmaid."

"A prize heifer would be of more value to me than that gown you are wearing," he grumbled.

"Fiddlesticks!" she snapped back. And then, "Have you seen my dancing shoes, Valerian?" She presented him with a pointed foot, shod in a silk shoe decorated with a rosette in whose center was a glittering diamond.

"Is it real?" he demanded, half shocked.

"Of course," she replied calmly. "You surely would not expect me to wear a false jewel. Do you like the length of my gown? It is the newest rage, and ever so practical for dancing."

"Indeed," he remarked, noting the gown's hem ended just at her neatly turned ankle. Then he allowed himself a small smile. She looked absolutely spectacular. Her gown was of lavender satin, its cream-colored underskirt embroidered in peach, blue, lavender, and pink flowers with pale green stems and leaves. The U-shaped neckline was edged in delicate silver lace and lavender silk bows sewn with tiny seed pearls. The bodice had a ladderlike decoration of ribbon bows known as echelle. Silver lace engageants dripped from the fitted sleeves. "You will turn heads, Aurora," he graciously admitted. "Just remember I am a jealous man where you are concerned, my darling."