Bertrice Small - The Duchess

"I left a note for Honor to give them when they realize I am not there. Perhaps today. Perhaps tomorrow, the way they are carrying on these days. Gracious, Quinton, love makes one foolish, doesn't it?"

"And you rode all the way from Morgan Court unaccompanied?" was his next stern question. He did not look happy, she realized.

"Of course. Who else would I ride with, Quinton? Have I come at an inopportune moment?" She wondered why he was becoming so upset.

"Are you mad?" he began to shout at her. "You have ridden over twenty miles by yourself, Allegra, and it is God's mercy that you were not accosted upon the road!" His heart was hammering. Was she as reckless as he had once been? But his French adventures were over. He had to be sensible now that he was taking a wife. And he was certain that he didn't resent that fact.

"The road was practically empty, sir. There was no danger that I could see," she told him frostily. "And do not raise your voice to me. I do not like it."

She was here. She was safe. He could not help himself. He burst out laughing. "Allegra! Allegra! Are you always this impetuous? What am I to do with you? I cannot get you back home tonight. Pray God your father does not worry himself sick not knowing if you are alive or waylaid along your route. There are highwaymen plying their trade along the roads, my dear. Did you not consider that?"

"Do highwaymen strike in the daylight?" she demanded. "And why would they bother with a girl riding alone with no visible purse or jewelry? Your concern is unwarranted, I think."

"Highwaymen do attack in daylight," he assured her, "and as you are well dressed, alone, and riding a fine beast, a robber would consider you rather excellent prey. And after he had robbed you of your goods and chattels, he might have also sought to rob you of your virtue, Allegra. Did you consider that at all when you set out so capriciously? Even your father's wealth could not have bought you a duke for a husband had you been ruined in such a terrible fashion, my dear," he finished.

"You are horrible!" she cried, but the truth of his words had frightened her. She had not considered any misadventures when she had set out to come to Hunter's Lair. She had only contemplated her own boredom with life at Morgan Court. She flushed nervously.

"Well," the duke said, seeing his words had finally made an impression upon her, "come and see your apartments, Allegra. They are just about finished. You will have to choose your own furnishings from among the house's contents. You may very well want to purchase new items, and of course, you will need fabrics for curtains, drapes, and hangings. Still, my dear, if you wish to move in tonight, I can have a cot bed brought for you. Tomorrow, I will send one of my servants to your father to assure him that despite your willful misbehavior, you are quite safe with me, and to escort Honor back here. I certainly hope our daughters do not have your sense of adventure, Allegra."

"Perhaps we will have no daughters," she said pettishly.

"I hope we have at least one, and that she looks like you, my dear. I just don't want her to be as madcap."

"Where is your brother, George?" she asked, changing the subject. "I am to marry you in three months, and I have not met your closest living relation yet. Why didn't he come to London with you?"

"Because it was all I could do to afford to come to London myself. You will meet George when he comes in from the fields where he is overseeing the laborers. My little brother is a farmer at heart."

"Like the king," she said with a small smile. She was glad he was no longer angry with her.

"Like the king, but without his resources." The duke laughed.

"Perhaps we should buy him a farm," Allegra said seriously.

The duke laughed again. "Don't say such a thing to Georgie, or he will be your slave for life, my dear. He wants his own land more than anything else in this world. 1 thought that he might prefer a commission in his majesty's armies, or a pulpit in some small church, but he really wants land to farm. That and perhaps Squire Franklyn's youngest daughter, Melinda."

"Then he must have his own farm, for I know no father will give his daughter in marriage to a penniless man-unless, of course, he is a duke," she chuckled mischievously.

He laughed a third time, and this time most heartily. "You are really quite a vixen, my dear," he told her, but his tone was amused, and even perhaps a bit affectionate, Allegra thought. "Ahh," he said, "here is the subject of our discussion even now." He waved, calling, "Come over, George, and meet your about-to-be sister-in-law."

A somewhat younger version of Quinton Hunter rode up, sliding easily off his mount. While his brother's eyes were a silvery gray, George Hunter's were a light blue. He wore no jacket, and his shirt, open at the neck, offered her a view of his damp chest. "This is Miss Morgan?" he asked, smiling warmly at her. "Why, damn me, Quint, she is even prettier than you said, but then you have never been much for words unless it concerned your horses." He bowed to Allegra. "Your servant, Miss Morgan."

Allegra curtsied. "I am pleased to meet you, brother George," she told him. "I am afraid I have shocked your brother by appearing unannounced, but I think he is over his pique now."

"She rode the twenty miles unescorted," Quinton Hunter explained dryly to his younger brother.

"Did you? Well, damn me, Quint, she's a game gel. You won't always get your way with her, I can see that," he chuckled.

"Behave, youngster," his elder warned sternly. "Allegra has threatened to purchase a farm for you."

"She has?" George Hunter's look was one of astonishment. Then he said, "You are gulling me, Quint, and it isn't fair."

"No, he isn't," Allegra told the young man. "Have you some place in mind, George? What do the owners want for it? Is it good land? Arable, and well watered?"

"Do you mean it? Having my dream come true cannot be this easy, can it?"

"I am not your fairy godmother," Allegra said seriously to the young man. "If you have a farm in mind, George, I will purchase it for you, but you will only own a half interest until you pay me back for the other half. It is business, plain and simple. I provide the capital for this investment, and you provide everything else. Papa's lawyers will write up an agreement for us, if indeed you do agree."

"Yes!" he told her without hesitation.

"We shall have the lawyers do the negotiation, lest the price of your heart's desire be inflated when it is learned that the monies come from Lord Morgan's daughter. Now, have you any income other than what you will earn from your lands?"

"One hundred and thirty pounds a year from my grandmother," he said.

"Then, with lands to farm, and your income, you can certainly ask Squire Franklyn for his daughter's hand. It is unlikely, unless she is a great beauty, that she will receive a better offer," Allegra said sensibly. "We shall have two weddings in the family instead of one!" She turned to the duke. "Does that suit you, my lord?"

He was amazed at how she had just taken charge of everything, and rendered all of their lives smooth and trouble free. "I am no longer fearful that you rode here unescorted, Allegra," he said to her. "Any highwayman who accosted you would have found he had met his match, for your wits are far sharper than any weapon a robber could carry." Yet despite his flattering words he could not help but wonder if her no-nonsense ways were suitable behavior for a Duchess of Sedgwick.

Allegra smiled. It was a well-satisfied smile. "Thank you," she answered him simply. She had, she believed, in these past few minutes gained his respect. That respect meant far more to her than any cloying sentiment of love would have meant. Yes, it had been a most successful London season, and it would be a most successful marriage as well.

SUMMER AND AUTUMN 1795
A MOST PERFECT COUPLE

Quinton Hunter sat alone of an evening in the small room that served him as a personal billet, and from which he conducted the business of his estate. It held an ancient desk and a rather battered tapestried chair. There was a double leaded pane casement window to his right, a paneled door to his left, and a fireplace before him with narrow bookcases built in on either side of the stone hearth. The fire blazed merrily, taking the damp chill off the July evening. The house was quiet now. The workmen had gone for the day. His betrothed wife and her saucy maid were upstairs in the duchess's new apartments. Honor had arrived two days after her mistress, sitting atop a cart that was filled to overflowing with some of Allegra's belongings. The rest, the duke was told, would follow. And they had. He had not thought such a young girl could have so many possessions.

The duke's thoughts were troubled. He knew he had to marry. He knew he needed a rich wife. He was committed to marrying Allegra Morgan, and yet now he was questioning the wisdom in that decision. She wasn't at all the sort of girl he felt would make a suitable Duchess of Sedgwick. The women before her had been deferential young ladies, yielding to the wishes of their lords even when those gentlemen were patently wrong. Allegra, he already knew, was not such a lady. What kind of a duchess would she make him? Perhaps it would have been better to have not married at all. To have allowed his proud line to die with him, and with his younger brother, George.

It was George's situation that had brought about these second thoughts. He had felt so bad for his sibling, and then Allegra had come along, solving George's problems in a trice. Quinton Hunter had to admit to himself that while he was delighted for his brother, he was frankly irritated by Allegra's actions. It had been so easy for her, and damnit, life wasn't that easy. But mayhap it was for the daughter of the richest man in England. And there was the other fact that gnawed at his pride most of all. He had compromised his family's name by making a match based solely on his bride's financial resources. What kind of a man of honor did that? A desperate one, he admitted to himself.

Yet Allegra was a great beauty. She had perfect manners, and a kind heart. But she was also outspoken to the point of rudeness on certain occasions. While patient with her inferiors, she was totally lacking in that virtue where her betters were concerned. She had absolutely no tolerance for fools. And she was so deucedly independent, particularly where monies were concerned.

"I will," she had already informed him, "oversee all the household chits without interference, Quinton. Some servants are apt to become light-fingered when tempted. Best not to tempt them."

"The Crofts have been with this family for centuries," he had haughtily told her.

"I am not speaking of the Crofts," she returned. "I shall have to hire a full staff, Quinton. You cannot expect dear old Croft, and his good wife, to run such an establishment as we shall soon have. I shall, of course, pay the servants myself out of the allowance that Papa has given me. The monies you receive are yours to do with as you please. A wife runs the household; a husband the estate. Or so Aunt Mama had instructed me. Is she wrong then?"

He had grudgingly admitted that the new Lady Morgan was most correct in her assessment of a couple's home duties. But it had irritated him to do so, though he knew not why. And Allegra had blithely gone her way then, tightening her hold upon him and his household by virtue of her wealth. He hated the ostentation of her fortune, yet neither Allegra, nor her exquisite taste could be called flamboyant, or even pretentious. Her father's wealth had saved him and his estates, he well knew, an admission which only seemed to cause him further resentment.

But his home was coming to life as he had never known it. He had to admit to himself that he liked what he was seeing. The exterior of Hunter's Lair was unchanged. It was built in the shape of an H, which had been the fashion in the year 1500 when the first Tudor king, Henry VII reigned, and the house had been reconstructed after a devastating fire. The brick was warm and mellow where it could be viewed beneath the dark green ivy. It had high stone chimneys, and a number of slate gables and roofs. Where the slates had been damaged, or gone entirely, they had been replaced. Every one of the leaded paned windows had been repainted and washed.