Bertrice Small - Deceived

"I apologize to you, mon ange, and I shall certainly honor your request not to call for several days," he said calmly. Bitch! He would never call upon her again, but she needn't know that now.

Lord Trahern's coach drew up to Farminster House, and a well-trained footman was there to open the door. "Good evening, your grace," he said, helping her from the vehicle.

"Please do not bother getting out, Trahern," Aurora said, turning about and dismissing her escort rather sharply. "Good night." She hurried into the house without a backward glance. "Is his lordship home yet?" she demanded of Manners.

"Yes, your grace," he replied smoothly, noting her irritation.

"Good night, then," Aurora replied, and swiftly ascended the staircase, moving down the hallway to her apartments.

Martha was waiting for her, dozing lightly in a chair by the fire. She awoke immediately, saying, "You are home early, my lady," and then, seeing the look upon Aurora's face, asked, "What has happened? You're pale, and angry, I can tell it."

"Help me out of this horrid gown," Aurora said. "I will tell you as I undress," and she did.

"The cheek of the man!" Martha said indignantly. "I hope you'll not receive him again, my lady. He's a cad and a bounder for certain. I can only imagine what his grace will say."

"My husband is not to know, Martha. Valerian would only become angry and call Trahern out. Then we should have another scandal. I was not at the Brimstone Club for more than fifteen minutes. It just isn't worth all the fuss that will be made over it. I am not hurt, only angry."

"What will you tell your husband when Trahern finally calls again-if he dares, I mean," Martha wondered.

"If he does not come, so much the better," Aurora said. "If he does call in a few days' time, I will receive him, but as far as I am concerned, my friendship with Trahern is over. Not just because of his behavior tonight, but because of what he said about Cally. His mistress, indeed! If he had ever dared to approach her in that way, she would have repudiated him immediately."

"Indeed, she would have," Martha agreed. "She were spoiled, and sometimes arrogant was Miss Calandra, but her heart was good, and she was a lady like her mother." She helped Aurora on with her nightgown, and then, gathering up her finery, said, "I'll give these things to Sally and Molly to put away. Then we can all go to bed."

"I'll brush my own hair," Aurora said. She exited her dressing room, and walked across her bedroom to sit down at her dressing table and pick up her silver brush to brush her hair. In the mirror she saw the reflection of her husband, fast asleep in her bed. She smiled and pulled the pins from her hair. Running the brush through her long brown-gold hair, she thought how good it would be to be back in the country. That evening's experience had been most distasteful. What had she ever done to make Trahern assume that she would enjoy the Brimstone Club? The brush raced vigorously through her tresses. She had done nothing. Trahern was simply a strange man.

"You're back." The duke's voice came sleepily from the bed. "What time is it, my precious?"

"Just after eleven," Aurora said.

" 'Tis early," he replied. "Where did you go?"

"Trahern took me to some private party in St. James's. I knew no one, and I found it a wretched bore. I stayed but a few minutes, and then insisted he return me home. You know I did not want to go anyway." Putting her brush down, she crossed the room, and, pulling her nightgown off, slipped into bed beside him. "This is where I want to be, Valerian."

His arms wrapped about her. "Good," he said, pressing himself against her, "because this is where I want you to always be, Aurora." Then he kissed her, and it was, Aurora thought, all right again.

“ ‘Tis an odd question to be certain," the Earl of Bute said to the Duke of Farminster, "but do you know where your wife was last night, Valerian?" John Stuart poured himself and his guest crystal tumblers of smoky whiskey, brought down from his own Highland still in Scotland. He handed one to the duke, and keeping the other for himself, sat down opposite Valerian Hawkesworth. They were in the earl's private apartment in St. James's Palace. A cheerful fire burned in the stone fireplace, warming the spring chill off the room.

"Aurora was with Trahern," the duke said, "Why?"

"Do you know where it is they went?" Bute queried.

"A party near St. James's, I believe my wife said," the duke told him. "What is this all about, John? Why on earth would you be interested in Aurora's social life?"

"There is a terrible rumor making the rounds this morning, Valerian, and it involves your wife," the earl told him. "That she was with Trahern partly confirms the rumor, for he is very much a part of the gossip burning everyone's ears."

"From the seriousness of your demeanor, John, I think you must tell me what it is the tattletales are saying," the duke answered, and he slowly sipped the whiskey, appreciating its fineness.

John Stuart gazed deeply into his tumbler, then, taking a deep breath, he raised his head and looked directly at his companion. "Your wife was at the Brimstone Club. It is reported that she disported herself publicly, and in a manner both lewd and shocking."

"The Brimstone Club? I didn't know it was still in existence," the duke said, "and I am astounded that anything should be considered lewd or shocking in that fancy stew. Good God, John, you know the sort of randy shenanigans that go on there, and at the Hellfire. Aurora would have no part in such antics. Besides, she was home quite early, and very out of sorts with Trahern."

"Your wife is said to have auctioned her clothing off piece by piece until she was totally naked. Then Trahern offered her favors to any man who would take her publicly. Several men took him up, and used her. The debauch ended with Trahern whipping her buttocks red while she sucked Lord Bolton dry. Then Trahern sodomized her. When he had finished, she thanked the gentlemen involved for a delightful time, and covering her nakedness with a cloak, departed the Brimstone."

His temples were pounding, but Valerian Hawkesworth managed to retain a semblance of calm. "And just why is everyone convinced that this wanton creature was my wife?" he asked. "Certainly being in Charles Trahern's company is not enough."

"The woman was masked," the Earl of Bute said, "but many had seen your wife arrive in a rather striking gown earlier. She obviously donned the mask later on in an attempt to conceal her identity, but that rose and gold gown gave her away."

"My wife did go out with Trahern last night," the duke said, "and indeed she was wearing a rose and gold gown. But she was home quite early, and we spent the night together. It cannot have been Aurora, John. The question is, who was it, and why are they attempting to defame my name?"

"The incident did take place quite late," the earl said thoughtfully. "I know that because the men involved in the episode are several of the most fashionable men in society. They would not be caught at the Brimstone before midnight. The time is easy enough to check, but we must clear up this scandal quickly before it reaches the king's ears. If it does, neither you nor your wife will be allowed in their majesties' presence ever again. You know what he's like, and the queen will obey his directive even if she disagrees with him."

"What do you suggest?" the duke asked.

"I believe I shall begin by making discreet inquiries of the parties involved, and even though you believe your wife innocent of such behavior, you should question her. After all, she was with Trahern, and she was seen entering the Brimstone earlier in the evening," the Earl of Bute replied. "We must first ascertain that it was not the Duchess of Farminster, as the gossips believe. Then we shall seek to find out who it was, why they were masquerading as your wife, and most important, who began the rumor so quickly. It is very unusual for the members of the Brimstone to boast of their adventures publicly."

Valerian Hawkesworth returned home to Farminster House. He found his wife in the Writing Room. "To whom are you writing?" he asked her, sitting down near her.

"My mother," she answered him. "I have not heard from her since I wrote her about Cally's death. Betsy has written to say that she is heartbroken, but Mama has not answered any of my correspondence to her. She holds me responsible for Cally's demise. I know she does! Still, I will continue to write her in the hope that she will eventually forgive me."

"Were you at the Brimstone Club last evening?" he said. He made his query a direct one so she might not lie to him.

"I never imagined such a place existed. It was awful!" Aurora replied. "As soon as I saw the kind of place that Trahern had brought me to, I insisted he bring me home."

"Why did you not tell me the truth when I asked you where you were last night?" the duke pressed his wife.

"You know the sort of place it is, Valerian. I feared that you might be angry at Trahern and call him out. I did not want another scandal. There was no harm done, as I departed quickly. I have told Trahern he may not call on me for several days. I am really quite put out with him that he would assume I should enjoy such entertainment. He said he had taken Cally there, which I know to be untrue. Cally would have been even more horrified than I was. He also had the temerity to claim that Cally was his lover. Another lie! I believe we have misjudged Lord Trahern. He is no gentleman," Aurora concluded. Reaching over, she put her hand on his. "Promise me you will not call him out. He is not worth the fuss, my love."

"I have just come from Lord Bute's. He informed me there is a terrible rumor making the rounds, involving you and Trahern," the duke said to his wife.

"What sort of rumor?" she asked. She was beginning to look angry. Not guilty. Not fearful. Angry.

He told her everything John Stuart had told him, watching her closely as he spoke for the least little sign of culpability. There was none.

Instead, Aurora grew pale with shock. A wave of disgust overcame her countenance, and then her anger burst forth. "How dare anyone assume that some masked strumpet in a rose and gold gown was me!"

"Where is the gown?" her husband asked.

"Manners! Fetch Martha here at once," Aurora called to the butler, and when her maid stood before her, she asked, "Where is the gown I wore last night, Martha?"

"Why, in the wardrobe, my lady. Remember, I give it to Sally to put away," Martha replied.

"Fetch it, please," Aurora said.

The three of them ascended the stairs to Aurora's apartments. Martha hurried into the dressing room to seek out the requested garment. She returned some minutes later, a puzzled look upon her face. "I can't find it, my lady. It ain't where it should be, and it ain't anywheres else. I give it to Sally with clear instructions. She was to brush the gown and put it in the wardrobe."

"Fetch Sally," the duke said.

"I will skin the wench if she is behind this," Aurora said furiously. "She was Cally's maid, and I kept her on because of it, but I have never really liked her. She is too sly by far."

The duke nodded. "Manners has spoken to me about her on more than one occasion. She's too pert."

Martha returned with Sally. "I ain't told her nothing," the older servant said.

"Where is the rose and gold gown I wore last night, Sally?" Aurora asked the servant.

"Why, it's in the wardrobe, m'lady," came the too-quick reply.

"It is not," Aurora said.

"Well, then, I ain't got no idea where it might be," Sally retorted, but not once did she look directly at her mistress.

"To whom did you give the gown, Sally? And do not lie to me, girl," the duke said sternly. "The truth now!"

Sally shifted on her feet nervously, eyes lowered. "I don't know what you mean, your grace," she said.

"You're lying," Valerian Hawkesworth said, and he grasped the maid hard upon her upper arm.

"Owwwww!" Sally struggled to break his grip. "Yer hurting me, yer grace! Let me go!"

"Not until I learn the truth of this matter," he said harshly. "Now, once again, girl. What did you do with the gown?" He gave her a shake, glaring angrily into her face.