Deceived

Chapter 13

“You will have to leave Hawkes Hill for a short time," thedowager said to Valerian and Aurora. "The scandal is too new, and will not die if you remain here for the gossips to feast upon."

"Just because no one came to call at Christmas," the duke began, but his grandmother cut him short with a wave of her hand.

"People call at Christmas, even to a house in mourning," Mary Rose Hawkesworth explained. "They did not call at Hawkes Hill because of your unseemly haste in marrying Aurora. The apparent lack of good manners you have both shown toward Calandra's memory is considered both outrageous and shocking. I will need time to erase that notion among our neighbors, and I cannot do it if you are both here. It gives the appearance of recalcitrance on your part."

"I don't give a damn what our neighbors think," Valerian said in strong and unrepentant tones.

Aurora laughed at her husband's stubbornness. "I do," she said, "and you should also. If we continue to be ostracized by our neighbors, with whom will our children associate as they are growing up, and how shall we arrange suitable marriages for them one day? Not only that the truth will become blurred as time passes unless we can contain it, and stop the slander before it is out of control. It will spread beyond the county, and we shall truly be avoided. No, my darling, your grandmama is correct. We must go off until the gossip dies and the truth be spread about."

He glowered at the two women, but neither seemed taken aback by his dark look. In fact, both looked rather amused. "Oh, very well," he finally agreed, "But I am not happy about being discommoded by a cackling group of fancy hens. I suppose we could open Farminster House and go up to London for a few months."

"An excellent idea," his grandmother said. "You have not yet had the opportunity to pay your formal respects to the king. Your grandfather died around the same time as the old king, then you were off to collect your bride, and then Calandra was enceinte, so you missed the royal wedding and the coronation both. I think it would be a very good thing if you were to visit London for a time."

"Will we get to meet the king and queen?" Aurora asked.

"Of course, child," the dowager assured her. "I was once friends with the Earl of Bute's mother, and knew him as a boy. Valerian has met him also, and, I believe, sold him some breeding stock for his cattle herds, did you not, dear boy?"

"Yes, about three years ago," the duke replied.

"The earl stands high in his majesty's favor," the dowager continued. "He was the king's tutor, and quite close to the king's mother, I am told. He will certainly arrange an introduction to their majesties for you and Valerian. I shall write him tomorrow."

"You must tell me how many servants we will need to run Farminster House properly," Aurora said, and the two women put their heads together, chattering away, much to the duke's chagrin.

He did not want to go up to London, and he would wager that Aurora didn't want to go either. She was simply being good-natured about their rather sticky social situation. Damn his nosy neighbors! What did they know of his misery, or Calandra's, during the months of their marriage? And they most certainly did not know that Aurora was the bride he should have married, and not her sister. His grandmother, with the willing help of the silly Lady Bowen, however, would manage to get everything straightened out eventually.

"We will be home May first," he announced to the two women.

"You are not giving me a great deal of time, are you, Valerian?" his grandmother said, "But I expect I can manage to wipe away most of your sins by then, and as Aurora was but your innocent victim, yes, the first of May will be all right." She chuckled at the outraged look on his handsome face.

Messages were dispatched the following day to the Earl of Bute and to Farminster House. The trunks were packed and the baggage cart filled up with everything they would need for their stay in London. There would be a carriage for the duke and duchess, and one for their servants. Several riding horses would travel with them so Valerian and Aurora might have an alternate means of transport when they chose not to travel within the confines of their coach. A rider had already been dispatched ahead to arrange for their accommodations in local inns. There would be an armed guard to protect them from highwaymen.

"You are being very good about this," the dowager said to Aurora the evening before their departure.

The younger woman smiled ruefully. "How well you know me, Grandmama," she responded. "Yes, I should rather remain here, but I know if we are to regain our reputations we must go up to London for a time. There were those who knew Cally there, and I shall be nothing but honest with them regarding this startling change of duchesses," she chuckled. "If I am not, we shall just get in deeper."

"Be honest," the dowager agreed, "but clever, my child. You need only say your sister died in childbirth, and that when Valerian learned it was really you he should have wed, he did before you might escape him again. Say it lightly, and make it amusing. There will be those who will be shocked, but mostly society will accept the situation with a wink and a chuckle. They have heard far worse tales, and as long as you and your husband are reconciled to each other, where is the harm? You will be readily accepted, and quite presentable to their majesties. Then, after you have amused yourselves for a few months, return home to us at Hawkes Hill. Certainly a new scandal will have arisen by then to overshadow this one." She kissed Aurora on both of her cheeks. "Oh, I shall miss you, my dear child!"

"Come with us!" Aurora begged her.

The dowager smiled and shook her head. "No," she said. "I must remain here to make things right again for you and my grandson. Besides, I think it is time you had a honeymoon, don't you? Grandmothers do not belong on honeymoons with their grandchildren," she finished with a small chuckle. And the next morning she waved them off with a brave smile, knowing even as she did so how empty and lonely the house would be for the next few months while they were away.

The trip to London was uneventful. The roads remained dry, to everyone's amazement. The inns were comfortable, if dull. Finally the spires and towers of the city could be seen in the yellow-gray haze that hung over London during the cold months, a result of the coal fires burned in each house to keep its inhabitants warm. Finally the carriages and baggage coach turned into Grosvenor Square, moving around to the west side of the common, where Farminster House was located. Almost immediately after they had stopped, the door to the brick mansion was thrown open, and a column of footmen hurried out to aid them in disembarking and to take the baggage.

"Welcome back to London, your grace, and the staff's felicitations on your marriage," Manners, the butler, said, bowing elegantly. "And welcome to her grace as well." He bent himself in Aurora's direction.

"Our thanks," the duke acknowledged with a smile. "Is dinner ready? I think her grace and I should like something to eat, and then to bed. It has been a long day, and our trip was tiring."

"Immediately, my lord," the butler replied. "There are several messages for you that have come in the last day or two."

"And you have seen to my instructions?" the duke asked.

"Of course, my lord," Manners replied in plummy tones that suggested he was slightly offended his master did not understand that an order given was one obeyed. "Shall I bring your grace his messages?"

The duke nodded. "Please," he said, and then turned to Aurora. "I have a surprise for you if you will but wait a moment." Then he turned without waiting for an answer and took the messages from the silver salver the butler proffered. "Bute," he told her, noting the seal on the first missive. He broke the seal, and opening it, scanned the contents quickly. "The earl welcomes us to London and will arrange for us to meet their majesties," he said, laying the note aside and reaching for the next one. "This is addressed to you." He handed it to her.

Aurora snapped the sealing wax on the paper and opened it. "Oh, Lord," she said. "It is from Trahern for Cally. He doesn't know she is deceased and wants to call on her."

"How I wish we could arrange it," Valerian said wickedly.

"What am I to do?" she demanded. "It is not amusing, Valerian!"

"I'll send a footman around to Trahern's lodging to say the Duchess of Farminster will receive him in the morning. It's just the sort of thing Cally would have done. She wouldn't have bothered to write," the duke noted.

"And when he arrives?" Aurora said.

"We will both receive him," her husband replied, "and explain the situation. Trahern will have our arrival trumpeted throughout polite society before tomorrow is out. How the hell did he know we were here anyway?" Valerian wondered. "I must remember to ask him."

"More than likely, one of his servants is friendly with one of the servants in this house," Aurora noted. "Now, what is my surprise?"

He laughed, and kissed her mouth quickly. "You are such a greedy creature," he teased her, and then, turning to the butler, he said, "Send a message to Lord Trahern that we will receive him tomorrow at eleven o'clock in the morning." Then, without waiting for an answer he took his wife by the arm and escorted her upstairs. "Knowing your aversion to your sister's things, I have had the duchess's rooms redone for your arrival," he told her, flinging open the doors to what had been Cally's suite.

Stepping inside, Aurora clapped her hands in delight. It looked nothing like the rooms Cally had commanded. The woodwork was painted in a pale golden-cream color-the moldings, the chair rails, and below the chair rails. Above, the walls were covered in peach-colored silk painted with hummingbirds and butterflies. Only the mural on the ceiling remained the same, but Aurora didn't care. She had always thought the ceiling painting of Venus and her band of cupids charming. The furniture was of polished mahogany, and the upholstered pieces were done in gilt, silks, and velvet. The chandelier, the wall sconces, and the candelabra were all sparkling Waterford crystal. Coral-colored velvet drapes with gold rope tie-backs hung from the windows. The polished wood floors were partly covered with a magnificent Turkey carpet in gold and blue.

Aurora hurried through to her bedchamber and sighed with pleasure. Here the walls were decorated in gold silk with cream and gold butterflies, and cream-colored lilies with their narrow leaves just touched with a grayish green. The woodwork was cream, and the ceiling filled with pink, lavender, and white clouds floating in a blue sky amid a troupe of plump cupids. The draperies at the windows were the blue of a southern sea, their tiebacks heavy gold ropes.

There was a mahogany Chippendale chest of drawers over which hung a carved and gilt Chippendale wall mirror crested with two Argus pheasants. In the curve of the window was a gilt wood settee upholstered in the identical blue as the draperies. The bed, which had been placed opposite the fireplace, was also from Mr. Chippendale's shop. It was richly carved with spiraled urns and acanthus leaf, its border backed by a Chippendale scroll with rosettes, its wooden canopy with a Greek motif, its feet voluminously carved with a wide bracket. The bed furnishings were of cream and gold silk. On both sides of the bed were small mahogany nightstands with silver candlesticks and snuffers. Near the dressing room door stood a mahogany cheval mirror with a delicately cut and etched frieze panel. Attached to the sides of the mirror were two small silver candle holders. Also within the room was a lovely piecrust table, and two wing chairs upholstered in wide cream and sea-blue stripes.

Aurora whirled about and said to her husband, "How on earth did you create such a miracle, Valerian? These are not Cally's rooms at all! Oh, I shall be so happy here!"

"I suspect the paint may still be wet in places," the duke told her with a smile. "When I sent word to Manners that we were coming, I also sent instructions for these rooms to be redone immediately, and all the furniture replaced. I did not want you unhappy, my darling."

"Oh, Valerian, I have been such a fool!" Aurora declared.

"We were both rather foolish," he agreed, "but we are luckier than most, for we have been given a second chance. Let us make the most of it, Aurora. I promise you that our few months of exile will be good months, and then we will go home to Hawkes Hill and live happily ever after."

She threw herself into his arms, pulling his head down to her, kissing his mouth passionately. "I hate traveling," she murmured. "There is never any privacy in those poky little inns with the servants snoring on their trundles, and separate rooms for his grace and her grace. It seems like forever since we've been together." She nibbled upon his earlobe provocatively. "I miss our cuddles." She began to undo the buttons upon his flowered waistcoat.

"Madam, you are showing a complete lack of decorum," he scolded her gently, his fingers undoing the laces upon her gown. "Dinner is almost ready." With a sigh he buried his face in her perfumed cleavage.

"Are you hungry?" she purred back at him.

"Yes," he said, tipping her back onto the bed and falling atop her. He pulled her bodice aside, and his mouth fastened upon a nipple, biting gently upon it, then sucking it. "Mmmmmm," he murmured. "A most delicious hors d'oeuvre, madam. I must have more!" Then he moved to her other breast, licking and nibbling upon it.

There was a discreet cough beyond the bedchamber in the salon, and they heard Sally say, "Manners says that dinner is served, your grace. Shall I tell him you will be coming down?"

"Damnation," growled the duke.

Aurora giggled, her eyes twinkling at his discomfit.

"We will be there directly," Valerian called to the maid.

Sally hurried from the room and down the staircase. "His grace says they're coming down," she informed the butler. Then she lowered her voice. "They were at it again," she confided in him. "Miss Calandra, the old duchess, she weren't much for con… con…"

"Conjugal?" the butler supplied dryly.

"Aye," Sally said, "that's the word I want. Well, she weren't much for conjugal relations with his grace, but Miss Aurora, why, she and him can hardly keep their hands off one another. They're at it all the time, they are. All the servants talked about it at Hawkes Hill. It's practically a scandal, it is!"

"It is hardly a scandal that a man cleaves to his wife, Sally, and at Farminster House we do not gossip about the master and the mistress," the butler said with strong disapproval in his voice. "I am quite surprised that Mr. Peters allowed you such liberties. I will not. Now, go about your duties, girl, and tell Martha that I want to see her when she has finished her duties later this evening."

"Yes, Mr. Manners," Sally said, and darted off. "Old goat," she muttered beneath her breath as she went.

The butler watched her go, thinking, a troublemaker if I ever saw one. I recognized it last time when she was with us. The young duchess doesn't seem the type to keep such a girl on, but then, she did come from St. Timothy, and perhaps the young duchess feels a loyalty to the jade. She will have to mend her ways, she will. Then, hearing footsteps upon the staircase, the butler remembered himself, and greeted the duke and the duchess as they descended. Her grace's hair was just a trifle in disarray, and she was prettily flushed, Manners thought, remembering Sally's words. But the duke looked happier than the butler could ever remember seeing him look, and that was all that mattered.

The following morning the butler opened the door at precisely eleven o'clock to find Lord Charles Trahern standing there. Lord Trahern's bobtailed coat and high wig, topped with a small tricorn hat, proclaimed him a macaroni. "Good morning, my lord," Manners said.

"I am calling upon the duchess," Trahern said.

"If you will follow me," the butler replied. He only wished he could see this poppinjay's face when he learned the Duchess of Farminster was not the duchess he was expecting, but he would listen at the door after he had announced Lord Trahern.

"Has her grace produced the desired heir, then?" Trahern asked as they moved toward the morning room.

"Her grace, I regret to say, miscarried of her child," the butler replied coolly.

"And Hawkesworth let her return to London?" Trahern said incredulously. "I suppose he thinks to get on her good side for another try, eh, Manners?"

The butler ignored the crass familiarity with which Lord Trahern was addressing him, as he opened the door to the morning room, and said. "Lord Trahern, my lord, my lady."

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.

Chapter 14

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."

"I can be jealous too," she told him, her eyes sweeping over his form. He was incredibly handsome, and looked every bit a duke. Because it was a formal occasion, he was garbed in cream satin breeches with silver buckles at his knees. His matching stockings were silk, as was his shirt. His waistcoat was a scrollwork pattern of black and gold on cream, his dress coat lavender satin to match her gown. His dancing shoes had jeweled buckles.

"Are they genuine?" she teased him.

"Of course," he mocked her. "You surely would not expect me to wear false jewels." Then he drew a velvet-covered box from his coat pocket. "These are for you, Aurora."

She opened the small case to reveal a pair of fat pear-shaped pearl earbobs set in gold, and a matching pearl choker from which dangled a delicately filigreed gold cross. "How lovely!" she exclaimed. Handing the case to Martha, who was beaming her approval, she fastened the earbobs into her ears and then lifted out the choker, handing it to him. "Will you put it on, please?"

He complied, explaining, "The Hawkesworth vault is filled with jewelry, and it is yours, Aurora, but most of it is from another time. It is old-fashioned, and to my eye a trifle gaudy. I purchased these especially for you. There, now turn around so I may see you."

When she did, she asked him, "Did you ever buy Cally jewelry?"

"No," he said quietly.

"You both look just grand!" Martha said enthusiastically, smoothing away the awkwardness that had suddenly arisen betwixt husband and wife. "Now, your ladyship, you remember your manners," she cautioned. "After all, this is our king and queen you're to meet tonight."

"Yes, Martha," the duchess answered her servant dutifully, and then she and the duke chuckled along with Martha.

The ball was to be held at St. James's Palace. Many of their neighbors about the square would also be going to the ball, and their coach joined a line of vehicles heading toward the palace. Aurora felt as if a colony of butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her tummy. The few balls she had attended previously would surely pale in comparison with this affair. And she didn't know anyone. And what if the king and queen didn't like her?

Valerian Hawkesworth noted how pale his wife had become. He reached over and took her gloved hand in his, squeezing it gently. "They are only two people. A young, newly married couple like ourselves," he comforted her.

"Have you ever met the king?" Aurora asked her husband.

"No," he answered. "We do not travel in the same circles, for I am a country man, as you know. I have heard, however, that the king is much interested in agriculture."

"And Trahern says the queen is a simple girl," Aurora remarked.

"They are our sovereigns, and we will greet them with respect and affection," the duke replied.

Their carriage reached St. James's Palace, and exiting it, they followed along with the crowd of similarly garbed ladies and gentlemen, moving up a wide staircase, and finally to the impressive entrance of a magnificent ballroom. The duke murmured softly to the liveried majordomo.

The majordomo called out in stentorian tones, "His grace, the Duke of Farminster, and her grace, the Duchess of Farminster."

As they passed into the ballroom, Aurora wondered if anyone had even heard the majordomo. The noise of several hundred chattering voices was incredible. Looking about, she suffered a brief moment of panic and wished that they hadn't come at all. There were no familiar faces at all. They were in a sea of strangers. She clutched Valerian's arm tightly and hoped that her nerves didn't show.

"Hawkesworth! I say, Hawkesworth!" A pleasant-faced young man pushed his way beside them.

"Mottley," the duke replied, and then, turning to Aurora, he said, "My dear, this is Lord Robert Mottley, a former school chum. Mottley, my wife, Lady Aurora Hawkesworth."

Lord Mottley bowed politely, kissing Aurora's hand. "Your grace," he said, "I am honored." Then, before Aurora might even reply, Lord Mottley turned to Valerian, saying, "What on earth are you doing here of all places, Hawkesworth? I thought it was your custom to eschew London and high society."

"It most certainly is," the duke chuckled, "but I was unable to pay my respects to the king last autumn when he was married, and then later coronated. I felt it my duty to do so now."

"You'll like him, Hawkesworth," Lord Mottley said with a twinkle in his eye. Then he lowered his voice. "We call him Farmer George, for he does love all things pertaining to country life, and the little queen does too. They are well matched. The rumor is, although, of course, it has not yet been officially announced, that her majesty is with child, but her waist seems as slim as it was on her wedding day, I vow, so who knows what truth there is in the rumor. Who is sponsoring your introduction to their majesties, or have you no one?"

"The Earl of Bute," the duke answered.

"Bute? Well, Hawkesworth, you do have high connections. I would not have thought so, but put no faith in Bute. He will not last long, for the Whigs hate him and the Tories but tolerate him. An introduction is about all he is good for, I fear."

"Aurora, mon ange, you look divine," she heard Charles Trahern murmur in her ear, and then he popped about into her view. "Hello, Mottley, how are you? Still looking for a wife? Not much available tonight in this room for a baronet of modest means," Lord Trahern snickered. "I will wager, however, that Aurora might know some sweet country lass of good breeding who can fill your nursery."

Lord Mottley bowed stiffly to them, and moved off.

"Trahern, you have a tongue like a rusty knife," Aurora said. "Not only do you cut, you leave infection behind. What on earth do you have against poor Lord Mottley?"

"The man's a bore," Trahern said offhandedly. "Were you at school with him, Hawkesworth?"

The duke nodded, amused. Robert Mottley was a good-natured fellow, but Trahern was right. He was a bore, and Trahern did not suffer fools easily, or gladly. "And have you enjoyed yourself spreading our little scandal about London?" he faintly mocked Trahern.

"I spread it only with the people who count," Trahern replied, slightly offended. "It does no good to gossip indiscriminately, my dear fellow. I would have thought you knew that. Have you presented yourselves to Bute yet?"

"We have only just arrived, and I haven't been able to find him in this crush, Trahern," the duke replied.

"Of course you haven't," Trahern answered. "He is in the Blue Drawing Room with their majesties, presenting newcomers. Come along, and I will show you where it is." He hurried off.

They followed dutifully behind, Aurora's eyes gazing at everything in sight. The ballroom was a magnificent place, all carved gilt, and walls painted with lush romantic themes. Plaster medallions gilded in gold and silver framed the painted ceiling with its depiction of ripe-breasted goddesses and half-naked gods at play. The crystal chandeliers and the gilt wall scones twinkled with a thousand beeswax tapers. Gilded wood chairs and settees upholstered in crimson velvet lined the room at one end of which a dais for the musicians had been set up. Everyone was dressed beautifully. How Cally would have loved it all, Aurora thought, and all I want to do is go home to Hawkes Hill. I do not like London. It is much too big and noisy.

They exited the ballroom, following Lord Trahern down a picture-lined gallery. At its end was a double door. The two footmen standing on either side of the door flung it wide, allowing them to pass through into the Blue Drawing Room, so named for its blue velvet draperies and blue upholstery. Immediately a tall gentleman with a long, aristocratic face came forward, his hand outstretched in greeting. He did not smile, but his demeanor was a pleasant one.

"Hawkesworth, my dear fellow, I am delighted that you were able to join us this evening," the Earl of Bute said politely.

"I am grateful for your lordship's patronage in this matter," the duke replied. He drew Aurora forward. "May I present my wife to you, sir? Aurora, this is the Earl of Bute."

"The true heiress?" The Earl of Bute's blue eyes twinkled mischievously for a moment. "Madam, I am honored to make your acquaintance. I hope you will soon be able to return home, although the court will be at a loss for your departure." He kissed her hand and bowed gallantly.

Aurora curtsied prettily. "I thank your lordship for his kindness to my husband and myself. This is a great honor. I cannot wait to write to my mother to tell her of this evening."

"Come along, then, and let me present you to their majesties," the earl said, and drew them over to where the king and queen stood.

The king was a handsome young man with a fair complexion, blond hair, and slightly protruding blue eyes. He was the first of the House of Hanover to have been born and raised entirely in England, a fact of which he was extremely proud. Unlike his grandfather, George II, and his great-grandfather, George I, he had no German accent, English being his first tongue. The young queen, while not a beauty, had a pleasant little face, sparkling blue eyes, and reddish-blond hair. She was only seventeen, while the king was twenty-three.

"Your majesty," said the Earl of Bute, "may I present to you Valerian Hawkesworth, the Duke of Farminster, and the Lady Aurora, his duchess. They were unable to be at your majesties' wedding, or coronation last autumn, and have come up to London especially to pay their respects to your majesty. The duke, like your majesty, has a deep love of agriculture, and spends his time down in the country, overseeing his estates. He raises excellent cattle and horses."

The king's face lit up immediately. "You farm?" he said.

"Yes, your majesty, I do," replied the duke with a bow.

"Where are your estates?"

"In Herefordshire, your majesty" was the response.

"We must come and see one day," the king said. "Would you believe that I envy you, Hawkesworth? I should like nothing better than to farm my lands."

"But England needs you, your majesty," the duke told the king graciously. "You will rule this land with equity and justice."

"You have a courtier's tongue to match your farmer's heart." The king chuckled. Then he turned to his wife. "May I present her majesty to you, your grace. My dear, this is the Duke of Farminster."

The duke greeted the queen while King George turned his attention back to Aurora, who immediately curtsied to him.

"I am told, madam, that you are a petite cause célèbre," he said. "What on earth did you do to earn such a reputation. You would appear to be a respectable and sensible young woman."

With a pretty blush that immediately convinced the king of her honesty, Aurora briefly explained, concluding, "I was very foolish, I fear, your majesty."

"Indeed you were," the king scolded her, "but the good Lord has given you a second chance, your grace, and you have taken it, and are happy, I can see. Do you like your country life?"

"Oh, yes, your majesty!" Aurora said enthusiastically. "I love Hawkes Hill, and miss it so! It will be a wonderful place to raise our children. Children thrive in the country."

"And you desire children, your grace?"

"Oh, yes!" she told him.

The king smiled. Whatever waywardness this young woman was accused of, she had obviously repented, and would be a good wife to her husband and an excellent mother to their children. King George approved of such a woman. He wanted an England full of them. "Let me present you to the queen," he said to Aurora, and did so.

Aurora curtsied to Queen Charlotte, and was rewarded with a smile. "You were not born here," the queen observed cleverly.

"No, your majesty, I was born on the island of St. Timothy, in the Caribbean, where I lived until I came to England a little over a year ago. St. Timothy was a grant to my family from King Charles II."

"How do you live on an island?" the queen inquired, curious.

"We raise sugar cane, your majesty," Aurora said.

"Do you have slaves?"

"Yes, we do, for you cannot raise sugar without them. The labor is intense and difficult," Aurora explained. "We do not mistreat our slaves, however, your majesty. They are as valuable to us as the cane itself."

"I have heard that is not the case on the other islands," the Earl of Bute noted.

"No, it is not. Most of the planters treat their slaves as if they were expendable because they can easily obtain more. My family did not feel it was a Christian way to act, and besides, it takes longer to retrain new slaves than to treat the ones you have decently. We harvest as much sugar as any other plantation our size. Our cost to do so is less because we aren't always replacing our labor with new labor, and our profits are therefore greater."

The king chuckled again. "Hawkesworth, I do believe you have yourself a most practical little wife. You are very fortunate."

Valerian Hawkesworth smiled broadly. "Yes, your majesty, I certainly am, and I suspect your majesty shares my good fortune in the queen." He bowed gallantly to Charlotte.

The queen's eyes twinkled, and she was obviously quite pleased with the duke's compliment.

The Earl of Bute now stepped forward once more. "Your majesties, I do believe it is time for you to formally open the ball," he said quietly.

The king nodded, then said, "Follow along behind us, my dear Farminster. I will want to talk with you one day soon about an idea I have regarding the land. You will be in London until spring?"

"Yes, your majesty," Valerian Hawkesworth said.

They reentered the ballroom, walking directly after the royal couple. Behind them, the Earl of Bute came along with Lord Trahern, who could scarcely contain himself with delight at this temporary elevation in his status.

The musicians began to play, and the king led the queen onto the floor along with the Duke and Duchess of Farminster. As the minuet began, the other guests joined them. The king danced the second dance with Aurora, while Valerian partnered the queen.

"Your success is assured in high society now," Lord Trahern assured her later in the evening as he escorted her to the buffet for a glass of champagne. "They may gossip their tittle-tattle down in the country, but you are a triumph here in London, mon ange."

"And what exactly does a triumph do in London, Trahern?" Aurora asked him. "One cannot attend balls all the time."

"Heavens, no!" Trahern exclaimed. "There are routs, and racing, picnics, and boating, gambling for the gentlemen, cards for the ladies, and, of course, one makes calls and leaves cards. You do have cards, my dear Aurora, don't you?"

"Cards?" She looked confused. "What sort of cards?"

"No cards?" Lord Trahern looked scandalized. "Oh, my dear, it will simply not do. I shall call upon you tomorrow, and we shall go to Mr. Dove's shop. He is the finest cardmaker in London, nay, I lie, in all of England. You absolutely must have cards if you are to make calls, mon ange."

Aurora took a sip of her champagne. "Upon whom shall I call?" she asked him. "I know absolutely no one in London. Is it not forward for me to call upon people I do not know, Trahern?"

"Mon ange, after tonight, they will all be eager to call upon you, for have I not said you are a triumph? Not only are you one of the most beautiful women here; you are dressed exquisitely; you have both been recognized by their majesties, you have danced with the king, and your husband with the queen. For a provincial ducal couple from Herefordshire, this is astounding. Therefore everyone will be eager to know you, especially given your rather unique history." Trahern gulped his wine down and continued. "Once you have been called upon, you must return the calls, leaving your card to indicate that you have called."

Aurora helped herself to a second flute of champagne that was being offered by a footman. She did enjoy champagne. "Why must I leave cards when I call on people? Will they not receive me, Trahern?"

"Most will when they see your card, but others may not be receiving when you call, or may be out calling upon others," he told her. "As for you, mon ange, I will tell you whom to receive immediately and whom to not. You must not seem overeager to gain the approval of the ton."

"Actually, Trahern, I don't care if I do or not," Aurora told him frankly. "We are in London for the winter, and only because we could not remain at Hawkes Hill. Once we return home, I doubt we will come to London at all."

"Be that as it may," he said, "while you are here you should meet, know, and associate with only the right people. Remember that one day you will want to make an alliance for your son."

"I don't have a son," she responded laughing.

"But you will," he replied quickly.

Aurora told her husband of her conversation with Trahern as they lay abed later that night, and he laughed.

"Trahern is a silly fool," he said. "Do you intend to retain his company?" He fingered a brown-gold curl, kissing it.

"He is not as great a fool as he makes out," Aurora said. "But he does amuse me. Not as he did Cally. She was impressed by him. I am not. Still, we cannot sit alone by ourselves in Farminster House until the spring, Valerian. You have been accepted into Boodles and can run off to your club when you are bored. I have no such luxury, and so I must rely upon Charles Trahern for my entertainment."

He slid his hand into the open neckline of her nightgown and fondled a small, plump breast. "I will amuse you, my darling," he murmured seductively, nibbling upon her earlobe.

"Be serious, Valerian," she scolded him.

"Why?" he demanded of her, and then his mouth fastened upon a trusting nipple, and he began to suck upon her.

She sighed, her fingers stroking the nape of his neck. "Because…" she began, but his rising passion was too distracting.

He pushed her nightgown up to her hips, but she stopped him, drawing it off instead, and then reaching out to help him out of his nightshirt. "Better," he groaned, wrapping his arms about her. "Much, much better."

"Ummmmmm," she agreed. She loved the feel of skin on skin. He was so warm against her. Very warm, and very hard. Why was it that a man was so hard and a woman so soft, she wondered. He began to kiss her throat and her shoulders, leaving her breast bereft. His lips were tender and very exciting against the silk of her skin. Aurora considered that it was really a miracle that a woman did not grow tired or bored with a man's lovemaking. After all, when a couple had been together for a period of time, there were few surprises left. And yet despite their married state she enjoyed Valerian's attentions. No. She craved them.

Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, moving on to his shoulders and back. He was so beautifully formed, she thought. She could feel his musculature beneath her hands. It rippled smoothly with his every movement. His head was buried in the soft curve of her neck. Reaching out, she caressed his buttocks, her fingers stroking the taut flesh beneath them. He groaned with his pleasure, and she felt a riffle of anticipation face through her.

"Witch," he murmured against her ear. "You will not have your way with me until I am ready to have my way with you." Moving sinuously, he buried his face between her breasts, inhaling the perfume of her satiny body. He began to tongue her, his fleshy organ laving first the twin mounds of her bosom, then moving lower, until her excitement was so great, she thought she would explode with the feeling. Her breasts felt swollen and tight, her nipples near to bursting with sweetness. Her lower belly ached, almost painfully with the expectancy.

"Please!" she gasped softly, her breath coming in short little pants. And then she cried out with pleasure as his face brushed against her golden-brown bush. "Please!" she whimpered more urgently.

Slowly he ran his tongue up her furred slit. Even more slowly he opened her, smiling at the creamy coating already upon the coral flesh. Her breath was ragged to his ears. Her pleasure spot almost throbbed visibly beneath his hot gaze. He slipped between her thighs, drawing her legs up and over his shoulders. Then, spreading her open again, his tongue slid from between her lips, the tip of it just touching the pulsing nub. She moaned desperately, needing far more than he was giving at that moment.

Raising his head, he said low, "You are so utterly wanton, my precious. I fear that one day I shall not be able to satisfy you."

"Never!" The word burst forth. Then, "In the name of heaven, Valerian, do not stop now!"

He lowered his head again, inhaling the delicate sexual fragrance of her. The scent intoxicated him, and his own lust increased. His tongue flicked relentlessly back and forth until she was almost sobbing with her desire. Her open hunger was so great, he decided he might initiate her into a new position of passion. Turning himself about so that his head was still between her thighs, he offered her the same opportunity of which he was availing himself. To his delight, she needed no encouragement at all. She licked at his love pouch with all the enthusiasm of a starving woman, her tongue hot and eager. Then, taking him into her mouth, she began to tease his rod with her tongue and her teeth.

He almost exploded with his own desire, but catching himself, he instead began to caress her moist flesh with his own tongue, pushing it into her hot passage, simulating her for several moments, then, taking her little pleasure nub between his lips, he sucked hard on it until she screamed her delight, sucking even harder upon his member, her body convulsing several times.

"Release me," he managed to growl, and when she had reluctantly done so, he turned about again and thrust fiercely into her pulsating body over, and over, and over again until he could actually feel the spasms rocking her so hard, he could not prevent himself from erupting, his juices so copious that they flooded her womb, and filling her, oozed out, dampening the bedding. Her body shook in his embrace until they were both weak with their satisfaction. Rolling off her, he caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss passionately. "You are totally magnificent," he said when he was finally able to find his voice once more.

Turning his hand about, Aurora brought it to her lips and returned the kiss. She was yet speechless. When at last she found her own voice, she murmured low, "That was wonderful! I could have never imagined such a thing. Can we do it again? What else are you keeping from me, my lord?"

He laughed weakly. "I can see I shall have a terrible time keeping you satisfied, madam, but I shall enjoy fulfilling your wanton nature, Aurora. Just see you allow no other man such liberties."

"You are my husband," she reassured him. "You must not even say such things to me, Valerian. I would never betray you! This is not the first time you have suggested such a thing. Why do you do so? Do you not believe I love you?" Turning slightly, she took him in her arms, his dark head resting upon her breasts. "Men are supposed to be stalwart and brave. They are not allowed to show pain of any kind, yet your marriage to my sister was painful not just for Cally, but for you too, wasn't it, Valerian? I believe you feared that one day Cally, for all her coldness, might betray you with a lover because it was the fashionable thing to do. You know as well as I do that my sister would have died rather than appear unfashionable to society, even if it meant doing something she found distasteful, and we both know passion was unpalatable to Cally. But I am not my sister, Valerian. I rejected you initially, as you well know, out of fear of the unknown, of both you and England, and of being a duchess. I reject none of it now, for I have come to love you even as you love me. I can say it no more plainly than that, my lord. You will believe me, or you will not, but never again suggest that I would betray you with another man! Certainly not after the wonderful hour we have just shared."

Raising his head, he looked into her eyes. "I apologize," he said softly. "I am a fool, I fear, driven by my love for you."

"As I was once driven by my own fears," she responded. "Let us both stop being foolish, my darling husband."

He nodded against her bosom, and then she could feel him sliding into sleep. Aurora smiled. She could never have imagined such happiness two years ago as she was now experiencing. If only her happiness had not come at such a high price. She gently caressed his dark head, and he murmured low. She closed her eyes, and slept.

In the morning Trahern arrived as he had promised to take Aurora to Mr. Dove's shop for her cards. She had breakfasted with her husband, who had then gone off for a ride in the park. She had had to decline his invitation to accompany him, knowing Charles Trahern would fuss at her if she did not go with him to Mr. Dove's. The elegant little establishment in St. James's was a revelation to her. Under Lord Trahern's watchful eye she ordered ivory vellum cards with the Farminster ducal monogram, and her title, The Duchess of Farminster, in elegant black calligraphic script. Enthusiastically she added cards for Valerian, and notepaper with her monogram as well, telling Mr. Dove to deliver her purchases to Farminster House as soon as possible.

"Within the week, your grace," Mr. Dove said, bowing low.

"I should hope so," Trahern interjected. "Her grace cannot make any calls without her cards, and lives too far from London to send back for them. Her foolish undermaid did not pack her ladyship's writing box. A country girl, y'know," he concluded with a broad wink at the stationer. "Eager, but not quite bright." He tapped the side of his head with his finger knowingly.

"I shall have at least three dozen cards for your ladyship by tomorrow morning," Mr. Dove responded with a smile. "You cannot be unavailable to your friends at the height of the season, your grace. Why, such a thing is utterly unthinkable." He bowed again.

Aurora nodded graciously, and taking Trahern's arm, departed the shop. "Thank you, Trahern," she said, her eyes twinkling at him.

"You picked up my direction quite quickly, mon ange," he told her, thinking that while she was quite lovely, she was not the beauty Calandra was with her ivory skin and black hair. Calandra, of whom he had had such high hopes, and who had been so generous with her purse when he had lost at the cards, which was more frequently than not. Cool and elegant Calandra. Had Valerian Hawkesworth really done all he could to save her life, or had his desire for Aurora overpowered him? Especially when he learned that she was the true heiress of St. Timothy and not beauteous Calandra. There had been a doctor, and yet she still had died. It seemed very odd to him, but he was certain that Calandra should not have died.

"Trahern, you have quite gone away," Aurora said.

Remembering himself, he helped her into her carriage, saying, "I was contemplating if you had ordered enough stationery, but I believe that you have. After all, you will not be remaining in London for very long. Too soon, mon ange, you will hurry back to the bucolic pleasures of your Hawkes Hill, will you not? You and your farmer duke, although I will admit that your husband is not a bad fellow."

"How kind of you, Trahern," Aurora teased him. "I shall certainly remember to tell Valerian that you said so. As for my notepaper, I can use it in the country too. In fact, from now on I shall order all my paper goods and cards from Mr. Dove. After all, you have assured me his is the most fashionable stationer's shop in London."

"Mon ange, I am beginning to have hope for you," Lord Trahern responded with a chuckle. "I do believe you are showing promise."

"Take me home, Trahern," she said. "Valerian will be back from his ride in the park and wonder why a little shopping is taking so long. He is quite jealous, you know."

"Then I shall invite him to lunch with me at Boodles and assure him that I look on you as your dear brother, George, would," Lord Trahern answered her. "Did he ever find a bride, by the way?"

"Indeed he did," Aurora said, and filled Lord Trahern in as the coach made its way along the streets of London.

"A parson's daughter," Trahern laughed. "Well, if her bloodlines are as good as you say, I suppose a country girl would be better suited to life on a Caribbean plantation than one of those city misses who dangled themselves before George last season."

"Betsy will make my brother a perfect wife," Aurora replied. Then she said, "And what am I to do while you take Valerian off for luncheon, which will certainly end in several hours of cards?"

"Why, mon ange, you must make yourself beautiful for this evening's festivities. The Duchess of Devonshire is having a grand ball, and I know you have been invited. You must promise me a dance. What fun we shall have. And tomorrow afternoon there is a marvelous horse auction at Tattersall's over at Hyde Park Corner. The three of us will go, of course. I know your husband will be most interested."

"And I was worried that I should, perhaps, hire a social secretary. I see now I shall not have to with you about," Aurora teased him, laughing. "It all sounds quite exciting, Trahern, but when does the ton rest itself from all these exertions?"

"Rest? There is plenty of time to rest when one is old, or in the grave, mon ange, but we are all young, and should enjoy life!"

The ducal carriage drew up before Farminster House, and a footman ran out to help Aurora from the vehicle. Trahern bounced out behind her, following her into the house.

"Has the duke returned from his ride?" she asked Manners as he took her fur-trimmed cloak.

"He is in the library, my lady," the butler said. "Shall I tell him you are home?"

"No, I shall tell him myself," Aurora replied. "Please show Lord Trahern into the Morning Room, Manners." She hurried off to the library, slipping through the door with a sigh. "Charles Trahern is absolutely exhausting," she announced to her husband. "It is your turn to amuse him now, Valerian. He wants to take you to lunch at Boodles, and he has invited us to Tattersall's for a horse auction tomorrow afternoon. I shall enjoy that. I have never been to a horse auction."

"Good God!" the duke swore. "He wants to take me to lunch? It will end up on my tab, I assure you, my darling, and not Trahern's. Have you noticed what a sponge he is? I will wager his fascination with Calandra was half the money she put in his pocket. I always thought her constant need for coin odd. She could never manage to live on her allowance, and I was really overgenerous."

"Be kind, my love," Aurora said. "We are so happy, and it is quite obvious poor Trahern is not. He is amusing, and we really know so few people in London."

The duke smiled at her, and coming over to where she was standing, kissed her mouth softly. "You have a good heart," he said, "and to please you I shall trot off to Boodles with Trahern. He will rope me into cards afterward, I warn you. God knows when I shall return home to your loving arms."

"Just in time to dress for the Duchess of Devonshire's ball," she reminded him, laughing. "I know I can trust Trahern to get you home for that, since he is going too."

Valerian Hawkesworth groaned. "I am beaten," he said.

"And if you are very good," she promised him, "we shall end our evening as we did last night." Her aquamarine-blue eyes twinkled at him, and she ran a pink tongue swiftly over her lips.

"We could spend the afternoon that way, and send Trahern on his way right now," he tempted her.

Aurora laughed. "I should be far too exhausted to attend the Duchess of Devonshire's ball if we did, my love."

"Do you really want to go to the ball?" His eyes were dark with his rising passion.

"Yes!" she said, laughing again. "I will not let you make a recluse of me, Valerian. We are in London, and we are going to take advantage of it, because it is very unlikely we shall ever come back once we are home. I really don't like the city, but since I am here, I shall sample the wonderful variety of amusements London has to offer, for until our eldest daughter is ready to make her debut, I see no need to come up to town."

"If we spend the afternoon the way I want to," he said with perfect reason, "we might have that daughter sooner than later."

"We must have a son first," Aurora said. "Now, go and find Trahern. He is in the Morning Room, eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"I have no doubt," the duke responded dryly. He drew her into his arms and nuzzled at the top of her head. "Are you certain that I cannot change your mind, Aurora, my precious?"

"No, I am not certain, so you must leave me immediately," she told him with a smile. "I do not know if Trahern is ready to believe that you would rather rodger your wife than go to Boodles with him. Have we not created enough scandal?"

The duke burst out laughing, and kissing her atop her head again, he said, "Very well, Aurora, for the sake of our reputations I shall go to Boodles with Charles Trahern, but I really would rather remain at home and rodger my wife!"

"Let him win a little bit off you, Valerian. I think his pockets a bit shallow right now," she called after him.

Turning about he grinned. "Of course, my darling. I think Trahern a bit of a doodle, but I am not insensitive to his finances." He blew a kiss to her, and then was gone through the library door.

^{Chapter 15}

"I don't understand why the queen is spending so much time with the Duchess of Farminster," sniffed Lady Jarvis.

"Perhaps because they are both young and newly married," the Duchess of Hamilton suggested. "It is only natural that the queen would want the company of someone her own age, and Aurora Hawkesworth is only a year older than her majesty."

"But she is a colonial," Lady Jarvis replied spitefully.

"It is true that she was not born in England," the duchess responded, but then, neither was the queen. It is another thing that they have in common, becoming used to their new homeland. It helps her majesty to acclimate, and now that she is expecting a child, do we not want her to be especially happy? Come now, Estella, do not be jealous. Lady Hawkesworth will soon be gone, and very unlikely to return to London for some time. She is admittedly a country woman as opposed to a city woman, and does not really enjoy the court."

"Well, it is a fact that the court is duller now than in the old king's time," Lady Jarvis said. "All this high moral tone is irritating, and the strong emphasis on family that the king is promoting is amazing, especially considering his own background. King George I was always at odds with his son, the second George, and the second George was at odds with his eldest son, whom we all called Poor Fred. Both these previous Georges flaunted their German mistresses, but, by God, the court was fun then! I wonder if Poor Fred would have had his ladies, too, had he become king, but alas, he died when his son was thirteen, and now that lad is our king, and a man grown who claims that the family and the land are everything that a good Englishman needs to be happy. Gracious! What sort of thing is that for a king to say?"

"Vhat is dat you say about the king?" young Queen Charlotte said, just catching a vague reference to her husband.

"I was saying that his majesty rightly believes that one's family and one's lands constitute complete happiness, your majesty," Lady Jarvis responded quickly.

"Indeed, yes," the queen replied with a smile, and then she turned to Aurora, who was seated by her side. "You are so fortunate to live in the country, your grace. I love our little house in Kew, but it is said of it dat it is not majestic enough. His majesty is purchasing Buckingham House in Pimlico for us because there have been complaints dat our dear Dutch House is much too simple." She lowered her voice. "I do not like grand houses. You cannot get comfortable in a grand house, and there are too many prying eyes in a grand house. Do you have a grand house?"

"Hawkes Hill is a large home, your majesty, and set most beautifully in its own park and woodlands, but I do not think it palatial, although it is certainly larger than my home on St. Timothy."

"Do you miss St. Timothy?" the queen asked.

"I miss my family, and the sunny, warm days," Aurora said thoughtfully, "but my home is wherever Valerian is now."

The queen nodded, then said shyly, "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Aurora answered simply.

"Good! Dat is very good. I am coming to love my George. He is a fine man, but of course none can know him as I do because he is the king." She sighed. "It is very hard to be a king, you know. Everyone vants your attention, your favor, and for the king to do things their vay." Her blue eyes twinkled, and she gently patted her belly. "Poor little Liebling, this baby of mine. He vill not have an easy life. Do you vant Kinder… children?"

"I may be with child now, your majesty," Aurora confided. "I cannot be certain because I have no one to advise me if my symptoms are those of a breeding woman. Martha, my serving woman, might know, for she was my mother's servant, but she cannot keep a secret. I might ask my husband's grandmother, but she is at Hawkes Hill."

"Has your link vit the moon been broken?" the queen queried.

"Yes."

"Are your breasts beginning to feel fuller? Are your nipples sore?" the queen continued in a soft voice.

"Yes."

"Do you feel a revulsion for certain foods, or a desire for others?"

Aurora nodded. "I do!"

"Then more than likely you are vit child, your grace. Vould you like me to arrange dat you see the royal physician?"

"I would be most grateful, your majesty," Aurora said. "We are not due to arrive home until May first. I do not want to wait until then to consult Dr. Carstairs. I would know now."

"I vill arrange it," the queen said. Then she giggled. "Do you think dat Lady Jarvis looks like her spaniel?"

"I do," Aurora agreed, and the two young women were overtaken by a fit of conspiratorial laughter.

"Such silly creatures," Lady Jarvis murmured to the other women. "I do hope that the queen will gain a more regal manner as she grows older. Young women are so impossible."

"I think the queen and Lady Hawkesworth most charming," the Duchess of Hamilton said. "Their youth is infectious, and it keeps us all younger by association. I know I like that!"

The doors to the queen's drawing room opened, and the king entered with Valerian Hawkesworth by his side. They bowed to the ladies, and then the king said to his wife, "Lotte, Hawkesworth has been telling me the most fascinating things about his village mills. The cotters weave their own cloth to his specifications, from his own wool and the additional wool he purchases. He then sells the cloth and allows them to share in the profits!"

"Vhy do you not keep all the profits for yourself, your grace?" the queen asked curiously.

"Because by allowing my tenants to share the proceeds of their own labor, they become more involved in that labor. Our cloth is finer than others because my people know the better the cloth, the higher the price. By allowing them to partake a bit of the profits, they work harder to gain me a better cloth which sells at a better price, your majesty," the duke explained. "The extra income they gain gives them a better life for their families. I have even allowed certain of the families to put money aside for the purchase of their cottages, although I retain the land beneath those cottages. That, in turn, absolves me of maintaining those particular dwellings, although I insist upon a certain standard of maintenance and withhold moneys from those who do not make the proper repairs and keep their cottages whitewashed neatly."

"You are, it vould seem," the queen said, "a strict master but a fair one. Dat is good, is it not, George?"

"Aye," the king agreed. Then he said, "Will you join me at bowls upon the lawn later, Hawkesworth. I am much interested in your breeding methods for cattle. Bute says they are superior, and result in strong stock."

The duke bowed. "I should be delighted to share my knowledge with your majesty," he replied.

"Farmer George, and the farmer duke," Lady Jarvis said low, her tone scathing. "What will happen to the country with such a ruler?"

"I think England will be a far better place when this king leaves it than when he took up his scepter of office," the Duchess of Hamilton said softly.

"Cattle breeding and weaving," sniffed Lady Jarvis. "What on earth is the world coming to, I wonder." Her tone was less discreet than it had been before, and the king overheard her.

"You enjoy a good dinner of beef, my dear lady," he said sternly, "and without weavers of cloth you should be as naked as a newborn babe, madam. Thank God, I say, for the land, and all that it produces, and thank God for the English yeoman farmer!"

Publicly censured, Lady Jarvis looked most uncomfortable, especially as the queen and the Duchess of Farminster had begun to giggle at the mention of nakedness. She flushed irritably, but wisely held her tongue for the moment.

Because Aurora wanted to surprise her husband with the news of a possible heir, the queen arranged for the royal physician to examine the duchess privately at the Dutch House on the same day the doctor paid her majesty his weekly visit. He confirmed Aurora's suspicions with a smile.

"Indeed, your grace, you are most definitely with child. From my examination, and from the information you have supplied me with, I should say the heir is due around Martinsmas in November. You are a healthy young woman, and should have no difficulty."

"Will it be safe for us to travel back to Herefordshire at the end of April?" Aurora asked him. "Or should we depart now?"

"It is only the matter of a few weeks, your grace," said the doctor. "I see no reason for you to disrupt plans already made. I presume you have a well-sprung and comfortable traveling coach? And the trip must be made in gentle stages, of course."

"May I ride? The coach is so confining, and I have begun to feel quite queasy of late from motion," the told him.

"As long as you are extremely careful, do not subject yourself to undue jolting-no galloping, madam-and do not become overtired, I see no reason you cannot ride an hour or two a day. The queasiness will pass, your grace, I promise you. And when you reach home, you are to inform your own physician of your condition. You do have a doctor in your vicinity?"

"We do," Aurora assured him. Then she said, "Please do not tell anyone that I am with child, sir. I would surprise my husband. His first wife, my half sister, died in childbirth. I may wait until we are home to announce my condition. He will only worry unduly, and I am not like Cally at all. I am going to have lots of babies!"

The royal doctor smiled. "A good attitude, and a happy heart are most important when a woman is in your condition, your grace. My lips are sealed." He bowed to her, and departed.

The queen hurried into the room. "Veil?" she demanded.

Aurora nodded, beaming happily.

"Vhen?" Queen Charlotte was smiling too.

"November," Aurora said. "Only you and the doctor know, your majesty, and he has agreed to keep my secret. I hope you will too. I don't want to tell Valerian until we reach home. We will be leaving soon, and he will just fuss at me, remembering Cally's difficulties. My sister hated being with child, but I am joyful! History will not repeat itself in this case."

Impulsively the queen hugged Aurora, kissing her on both cheeks. "I vill keep your secret," she promised.

When Aurora had returned home that afternoon, she found Trahern awaiting her. "I have someplace special to take you," he said. "Will you let me escort you this evening?"

"What about Valerian? she asked him.

"I have already spoken to him," Trahern said. "He is having supper privately with the king, who wishes to quiz him further on matters relating to agriculture." He sighed dramatically. "I am utterly astounded by the king's hunger for such knowledge. I cannot imagine where he gained such a leaning. He would do better to become more interested in matters relating to his government. Bute encourages him in his passion for divine right instead of advising him to mediate what will shortly be a serious confrontation between the Whigs and the Tories. Divine right or no, the king cannot rule without the politicians. We are in modern times now."

"I shall ask Valerian if he objects to my going alone with you," Aurora said.

"He will not object," Trahern assured her. "I shall pick you up at nine o'clock, mon ange. Wear something spectacular." He kissed her hand and left her.

Aurora, nonetheless, did ask her husband if he would mind her accompanying Lord Trahern that evening. "He did not say where we were going, but he said I should dress for an occasion. Have you any idea where we might be going?"

"There are any number of balls being given," the duke said in an offhanded manner. "Go along and enjoy yourself. I should rather speak to the king on farming than have to attend another of those dull affairs. Just a few more weeks, my darling, and we shall return to Hawkes Hill. My grandmother writes that while the scandal of our marriage has not entirely died, we will be welcomed back."

"Thank goodness!" she replied. "I haven't really made any friends here in London, except for the queen. I just don't seem to have a great deal in common with the court ladies. Lotte and I are of an age, and both strangers to England. Her upbringing was much like mine, with a loving family and less formality."

"You call the queen Lotte?" He was quite surprised.

"Only when we are alone together," Aurora replied. "If any of the other ladies heard me, they would be furious, and even more jealous than they already are of me. Especially that sour Lady Jarvis. Lotte prefers informality, however, and with me she may be freer than with the others."

"It cannot be easy to be a queen," the duke considered. "She is fortunate in her husband, however. The king has come to love her dearly, a miracle for such a marriage."

"You have come to love me, and I you," Aurora pointed out.

"Another miracle." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"I do not know if I really want to go with Trahern," Aurora said. "I could be just as happy remaining home and going to bed early. I am tired with all these late nights they keep here in London. I shall be relieved to go back to the country, where we can keep sensible hours, Valerian. Besides, I have missed your grandmother."

"So have I," he agreed, then, "If you send your regrets to Trahern now, he will have a fit of the sulks and complain at me when we meet at Boodles tomorrow. He is worse than a woman, my precious. Go for my sake, I beg you."

"Oh, very well," she acquiesced.

"What will you wear?" he asked her. "Nothing too tempting, Aurora, for I would not have other men ogling you too greatly."

"I think the rose silk with the gold and rose striped petticoat," she told him. "I have not worn it before, and I am not certain it is not a bit too peacockish and showy, but Trahern asked that I wear something spectacular, and this certainly fits the bill. I wonder where he is taking me, Valerian. I shall not let him keep me too late, however."

"I shall be gone before you, and home probably just after you leave," he told her. "You know the king keeps to a strict schedule. He leaves the card table at precisely ten o'clock, and goes to bed."

"A lucky man," Aurora responded.

The duke laughed. "You really are a country lass," he teased her. "I suppose you shall be up with the birds, and to bed as soon as the sun has set, but then"-his arms slipped about her-"I shall not mind it if we retire early." He kissed her softly, little kisses all over her face.

"Ummm," she sighed contentedly. "Oh, Valerian, let us remain home this evening. I shall send a note to Trahern, and you will tender your regrets to the king. Say you have the headache."

He held her close, breathing the soft fragrance of her hair. "We cannot," he told her regretfully. "This small friendship I have forged with King George may be of value to our family one day. Shortly, we will be gone from court, my precious, and we both know it is unlikely we will come again to London soon. The king is usually overly suspicious and mistrustful of people's motives, or so Bute has told me. With me, however, he is not. I do not want to disappoint him in any way, Aurora. He is truly interested in my agrarian knowledge, and wants to learn. You know there are no others among the court who can speak with him on such matters. They have already begun to make fun of him behind his back, calling him Farmer George, even as they call me the farmer duke, but he will eventually win them over. He may be a solemn and very moral man, but he is kind and good-hearted. Eventually all of England will respond to his sweet and decent nature. We have little time left here. Let me serve the king as best I can while we remain."

She sighed and nodded. "You are right," she agreed.

"I must leave in another hour or so for Kew," the duke told his wife. "I will wait up for you, my precious."

"And I shall come home as early as I dare," she replied with a small smile at him.

"You're a wicked, wanton chit," he said, kissing her hard.

"Aye, sir, but I am your wicked, wanton chit," she answered, kissing him back, her tongue slipping between his lips to tease him. Then, slipping from his arms, she ran upstairs.

"Well," Martha said as she entered her apartment, "what are we doing this evening, my lady?"

"Valerian is leaving for Kew to be with the king, and I am going to some ball or other with Trahern," Aurora answered.

"Going to a ball? Without your husband?" Martha's lips were pursed in a disapproving manner.

"Valerian says if I don't go, Trahern will complain at him tomorrow at Boodles," Aurora laughed. "I should far prefer to remain at home, Martha."

"And so you should in your condition!" came the sharp reply. "Have you told his grace yet, my lady?"

Aurora looked at her servant, surprised. "You know? How?"

"Well, it weren't that difficult to figure out, my lady" came the retort. "Don't I see your laundry gathered up for the laundress? Well, you ain't had any show of blood in weeks, and I've noticed of late that your appetite is a bit peckish and your gowns is getting a bit tight in the bosom. It weren't really that hard."

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" Aurora fretted.

Martha looked mildly aggrieved that her mistress would even ask such a question. "Yer certain?" was her response.

"I've seen the queen's physician," she replied, "But I don't want to tell Valerian until we get home to Hawkes Hill. He'd only worry, and the doctor says I am healthy, and happy, and that is good for me right now. Oh, Martha, I'm not Cally, and I don't want Valerian to be afraid. Having a baby is the most natural thing in the world! I cannot wait to hold my child in my arms!"

"Yer mama, the real one, I mean, was just like that," Martha said. "She loved children, and you do too. I won't tell his grace, my lady. We'll be home shortly, and that's time enough for him to know. But, I don't want you overexerting yourself now!"

"I won't," Aurora promised the faithful Martha.

"What are we wearing this evening?" the servant said.

"The rose and gold, I think" was the response.

"That flamboyant thing? I don't know why you had it made in the first place," Martha huffed. "Do you really want to be seen in public in that gown?"

"Trahern said wear something spectacular, and I believe the rose and gold qualifies. It may be the only chance I get to wear it. I don't know why I had it made either, but the material seemed so interesting before it became a gown," Aurora remarked.

Martha nodded. "Aye, that sometimes happens. Well, I'll get it out and see that it's pressed, my lady. At least it won't go to waste before it goes into the back of the wardrobe," she giggled.

A bath was brought for her grace, and Aurora enjoyed a long and leisurely soak, for she had plenty of time before Trahern would call for her. The water was perfect, and the scent of honeysuckle and woodbine filled the air. Sally had found the most interesting little chemist's shop nearby that made the fragrance up in a bath oil. It was a clean yet sensual smell, and Valerian liked it. There was even soap to match it. Picking up her bath cloth, Aurora soaped it and washed herself. The bath was so relaxing, and she was beginning to get sleepy.

"There's time for a nap and a wee bit of supper before you go," Martha said, helping her from the tub. "If you're going to be up tonight instead of in your bed, where you belong, then you need your strength. How about a bit of chicken, bread, and butter?"

Aurora nodded, and lying down, was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. Martha awakened her at eight, and after nibbling a bit on the contents of the plate her servant had brought her, and drinking some sweet golden wine, she was ready to dress. Wiping the chicken grease from her face and washing her hands in the basin Sally held for her, she at last stood up. Her maids bustled about her, dressing her in her undergarments, stockings, and petticoats, until finally Molly and Martha lowered her gown over her head, and Sally, kneeling, settled the skirts of the garment over her mistress's petticoats.

"Take a deep breath," Martha ordered, and began lacing up the gown with skillful fingers. Aurora had a naturally small waistline, and the servant was careful not to pull the laces too tight. Many a tightly laced woman fainted in her desire to be ultra-fashionable.

Aurora stared at herself in the long mirror. Her bosom was certainly threatening to swell over the neckline of the gown, which was edged in gold lace. She tugged at it in an attempt to draw it up in order to give herself a more modest countenance.

Martha shook her head. "There ain't no help for it," she said dourly, and Sally giggled, only to be silenced by a furious look from the upper servant. "We had best choose another gown, my lady."

The clock on the mantel struck nine o'clock. "There is no time," Aurora said. "You know how prompt Trahern always is. Fetch the deep blue velvet cape, Molly." She turned back to Martha. "I have no intention of staying out too long, at any rate. I'll be back before anyone has had the time to dwell on this gown," she promised. Then she fitted her pear-shaped pearl earbobs into her lobes and gave her hair a final pat. "Do you think it looks all right without the twin curls on either side, Martha?"

"I like the chignon, my lady. It gives you a sophisticated look, and besides, a change now and then is good," the servant reassured her mistress. She handed Aurora her cloth-of-gold reticule. "Your handkerchief and little painted fan are inside."

Aurora exited her apartment, Molly hurrying behind with her velvet cloak.

Trahern, at the foot of the stairs, looked up, his eyes widening. "I say!" he blurted out.

"Well, Trahern, you did say spectacular," she mocked him.

His eyes fastened a moment too long upon her bosom, then met her gaze boldly. "I would not have expected such a garment existed in your wardrobe, Aurora. In Calandra's, yes, but not yours."

"The color is better suited to Cally," Aurora admitted. "I don't know why I chose this material, but it fitted your instructions."

Molly set the cape over her mistress's shoulders and fastened the silver frog closures.

"Where are we going?" Aurora asked her companion as they settled themselves in his carriage.

"You will soon be leaving London," he said. "You have seen the court with all its pomp and decorous behavior. But before this young king with his priggish mannerisms took the throne, we had two less genteel Georges. They were kings who openly kept a series of mistresses, and despite their insistence upon a certain royal etiquette, we had a much freer lifestyle. That lifestyle still exists today, albeit hidden away from prying eyes and the censure of those prudish members of the court who would not approve of it. I am taking you to the Brimstone Club. Calandra visited it with me several times, and quite enjoyed it."

He was lying to her, and Aurora realized it almost immediately when she entered the nondescript mansion off of St. James's Park. Cally, with her distaste for the sensual, would have detested the unbridled passion taking place within the Brimstone Club. The footmen opening the door to the club, and taking coats were actually nubile young women. They wore powdered wigs, and their flowered satin waistcoats were cut so that their bare breasts hung out. When they turned about, Aurora was shocked to see their white breeches had absolutely no backs so that their naked bottoms were fully revealed. The men servants, offering glasses of champagne from silver trays, were no better dressed. They wore no coats or shirts at all, and their bare skin appeared to be oiled. Their tight breeches were cut out to reveal both their genitals and their tight backsides. All were very handsome, but their faces were impassive beneath their powdered wigs.

"I am appalled you would bring me here," Aurora said softly in angry tones. "Call for your carriage immediately, and take me home!"

"Oh, do not be such a little Puritan, mon ange," Trahern said. "You do not have to remain if you do not want to, but at least let me show you about before you flee this deliciously wicked place." His grip fastened upon her arm, and he drew her into a richly decorated salon. Within, perfectly attired musicians sat upon a small dais, playing quietly. About the room were properly garbed women, some masked, and others not. "In this room," Trahern said, "ladies who wish for a tiny bit of adventure outside the bonds of matrimony come, and sit to await their cavaliers. Look over there, mon ange. The lady in crimson velvet with the jeweled mask. Look closely, Aurora. It is Lady Estella Jarvis, and the gentleman seeking to escort her to a private room abovestairs is Lord Bolton, the prominent Whig politician. Ah, his plea has been successful. Come, we will follow. There are peepholes where we may observe."

"Are you mad, Trahern?" Aurora attempted to pull away, but his grip was very firm, and she doubted a cry for help in this place would do her any good. Still, she was horrified by the debauchery and drunkenness about her. As they reached the staircase, she yanked her arm from Trahern's grasp, and, turning, almost ran for the front door. "My cape!" she snapped to the attendant, who quickly complied. A servant flung open the door, and Aurora stepped forth back into the cool night. "Have Lord Trahern's carriage brought around at once," she commanded the liveried linkboy awaiting arrivals at the curb.

"Gracious, mon ange, you are far more proper than I had anticipated. I assumed it was a masquerade as it is with so many proper ladies," Trahern said, coming to her side.

"How dare you escort me to such a place!" Aurora said angrily. "I would tell my husband, except that he would call you out, and I wish no scandal to touch the Hawkesworth name. What on earth ever made you think I would enjoy such bawdy entertainment?"

"Your sister did," he replied.

Aurora climbed into the coach, settling her skirts irritably about her. "Trahern, you lie," she said bluntly to the man now sitting opposite her, smirking.

"Calandra was my mistress," he continued.

"Another lie!" Aurora snapped.

"How can you be so certain," he challenged her mockingly as the vehicle drew away from the Brimstone Club.

"My sister hated the physical requirements of marriage," Aurora said with surprising candor. "Making love was anathema for her. That is one of the reasons she ran away from Hawkes Hill and came to London. She would not accept the responsibilities that being the Duchess of Farminster entailed. Valerian had to bargain with her in his attempt to gain an heir. Had she birthed her child successfully, she was to be allowed to come up to London again for a season. The marriage was a nightmare for both of them, and I blame myself. Had I not tempted my sister with a ducal crown, she would not have married Valerian, nor been so unhappy, nor died in childbirth. Valerian and I would have been married back on St. Timothy, and we should have probably had a son by now. You may have lusted after Cally, Trahern, but you had nothing of her, I know, but a chaste kiss on the cheek, or the forehead. I do not understand why you should assume I would enjoy the Brimstone Club. You have made an error in judgment, I fear. I will pardon you, for your friendship has been invaluable to both me and to my husband these past months we have been in London. I would ask you, however, not to call upon me for the next few days."

He was struck silent by her words, astounded to learn that the divinely beauteous Calandra had been a cold and hollow shell. He knew Aurora Hawkesworth well enough to realize that she was not lying to him. He felt himself filled with icy anger. He had been taken in by the little colonial bitch. Calandra had been nothing more than a garden-variety coquette. She had carelessly trifled with his heart, hoodwinking him in the crudest manner possible to believe that there was hope for him, when there had never been any hope at all.

Trahern knew now that the dramatic scenario of Hawkesworth murdering Calandra in a jealous rage was nought but the product of his fevered imagination. The bitch had died in childbirth just as they had said, and Hawkesworth, fearful of losing St. Timothy, had dragged Aurora to the altar. It was just that simple, and the wicked revenge he had concocted in an attempt to redress the wrong he thought done to Calandra was now useless. Or was it? Why should he not be revenged? Had Calandra not victimized him? Had not the farmer duke and his sharp-tongued wife used him in an effort to gain entrance into polite society here in London? His grievance against the Hawkesworths was justified. He would be revenged!

"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.

^{Chapter 16}

“ ‘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.

Sally began to cry. "Yer ladyship! Are you going to let him treat me like this? And after all the time I been with your family? Ain't you got no gratitude?"

"If I had my way, Sally," Aurora said in a hard voice, "you'd be beaten until you couldn't walk! You are a bold baggage, and you have, for whatever reason, stolen my gown. I want to know why, and if you do not tell me, I shall have you trussed up like a pig ready for market and tossed in the river!"

"Ohhhh, yer lordship, you wouldn't let her do that, would you?" Sally wailed. "That would be murder!"

"You are her grace's servant, girl, and hers to do with as she pleases," the duke answered. "Besides, who would look for you? What is one bad servant more or less to London?"

"Have the footmen bind her," Aurora spoke.

"Owwwww! I'll tell! I’ll tell!" Sally screeched. "Don't kill me, please!"

"Very well," the duke replied, releasing his hold on her arm. "Speak, girl."

"It was Lord Trahern! I give him the gown! But he promised to return it, he did, the liar!" Sally sobbed. "You wasn't to know, my lady. He said he wanted it to play a joke on someone, and that he would bring it right back, but he didn't."

"When did Trahern ask you, Sally?" Aurora queried her.

"A few days ago I went to the chemist to get you yer soap, my lady. He come upon me in the street, and tells me he is taking you to a special party on Tuesday night, but that he doesn't think you'll like it so you'll probably come home early. Then he says he wants the gown you wear that evening to play a jest, and says he'll bring it right back. I waited for him all night downstairs by the kitchen entrance, but he never come. I was going to ask him when he came calling on yer ladyship again. I didn't think you would notice the gown gone 'cause you really didn't like it so's you wouldn't be looking for it anytime real soon. How did you find out so quick?" She sniffled, wiping her runny nose with her arm.

"Lord Trahern has indeed played a jest, Sally, but it is a rather wicked one that threatens to destroy my good name," Aurora told the sniveling maid. "If, however, you repeat your story to a certain person, then I shall not dismiss you from my service, but you will no longer serve me personally in your present capacity. If you do not cooperate with me, then you will go out on the street this very night in naught but the clothing you are wearing, and no reference as well."

"I'll do whatever you want me to, your ladyship," Sally said. "I really didn't mean to cause no trouble, but Lord Trahern promised me half a crown when he returned the gown. I ain't likely to see that much money all at one time again. I didn't think a gentleman would cheat a poor servant," she finished piteously.

"Leave us," Aurora ordered the servant. "Martha, go with her and remain with her until I need you."

"Yes, my lady," Martha said. She was openly puzzled by all the proceedings, and looked quizzically at her mistress.

"I will explain shortly," Aurora said, catching her look.

Martha nodded, and escorted the chastened Sally from the room, giving her a slap as they went.

"So we now have the answer to how your gown returned to the Brimstone Club," the duke said.

"What do we do next?" Aurora asked her husband.

"Bute is discreetly interviewing the participants in last night's proceedings. We need to know at what hour the events took place. Manners and the other servants know at what time you returned home, and at what time you left with Trahern earlier. Why, I wonder, has he perpetrated such a hoax? I shall have to call him out."

"Please don't, Valerian!" she begged him. "So far this scandal has not spread or become open. Trahern has appeared for all the world to see as our friend, and even, in some eyes, our sponsor. If you force him to a duel, it will all come out. There are many who would believe me guilty of this shameless behavior because they enjoy thinking ill of others. They would claim our servants lied to protect us, to protect their places in our household. We would never be believed. But if we can keep this from going any further, then our good name will be saved. Please, I beg of you, do not allow your anger to overrule your good sense, and challenge Trahern."

"Very well," the duke promised his wife, "but I cannot bear the thought of him getting away scot-free with such a hoax."

"I, too, want revenge," Aurora admitted.

"What would embarrass Trahern and make him the unhappiest of all, I wonder," Valerian considered.

"Marriage to an unsuitable woman. A marriage he could not get out of that would put him beyond the pale of the court, and of polite society. Charles Trahern is such a snob," Aurora said, "that he could not bear it if he were no longer a part of our world."

"I want Trahern to suffer, not some innocent woman," Valerian replied. "I don't mind making him miserable, but not a poor woman with whom I have no quarrel, my darling."

"It doesn't have to be some retiring creature unable to defend herself against Trahern," Aurora said. "Let us find the whore he hired to impersonate me. I'll bet she'd jump at being Lady Trahern, and if she's as bold as they say she was last night, she is perfectly capable of defending herself, isn't she?"

"You are diabolical," he told her admiringly. "Yes, it might work, my precious."

"I am certain the Earl of Bute will secretly help us, and the public disclosure of such a marriage will put Charles Trahern very much at a disadvantage. A man who would marry such a woman and keep it secret can hardly be either reliable or truthful," Aurora finished triumphantly.

"Agreed," her husband responded, "but first we must make certain that your reputation is not tarnished. I shall immediately return to St. James's Palace and tell the earl of our findings."

"I will go with you," Aurora said.

"No, my darling, you will not. If you are to appear to be the innocent party in all of this, you must not be involved," the duke replied, kissing his wife atop her head.

"If it will help any, Valerian, I saw Lady Jarvis at the Brimstone. I do not know if she saw me. She went upstairs with Lord Bolton, who, you have told me, was later involved with the woman in the rose and gold gown."

"I will tell the earl," he said, and then he departed Farminster House for St. James's.

"I have managed to pinpoint the time of the incident," John Stuart said as the duke rejoined them. "It was between one and two o'clock in the morning. Two of the gentlemen involved remember hearing the mantel clock in the room where they were gathered strike two as Trahern began his final act of debauchery on the woman. And both say they did not arrive at the Brimstone until just after one."

"And I have discovered that my wife's undermaid was bribed by Trahern to give him the gown Aurora wore last night. When we sought for it, it was gone, and the wench was forced to a confession. She waited up all night for him to return it, and give her her half-crown."

"So the bounder didn't even make good on his debt," John Stuart said, shaking his head in disapproval. "Well, our next step is to find the whore Trahern used for this masquerade."

"How on earth can we do that?"

The Earl of Bute smiled wickedly. "When playing at politics, my dear Hawkesworth, it is always wise to have a friend or two in the London underworld. They are little different than we are actually. They want the same things. Power and wealth. We play our games within the boundaries of the law, and they play them on the other side of the law. Both of us are equally ruthless in our manipulation of the populace, but we do so under the guise of proper society. They rely on no such niceties. Even as you and I speak, the woman we seek is being sought. She will brag to someone about her little adventurous escapade, and we shall find her, I promise you."

"Aurora has concocted a delicious revenge upon Trahern," the duke said, and then he told the earl.

John Stuart laughed aloud, then said, "What a wonderful way to rid ourselves of that obsequious little toad! By Jove, we shall do it, Hawkesworth! I know a not-too-respectable clergyman, not yet defrocked, who will perform the ceremony. I shall give you his name, for, of course, as the king's closest adviser, I must not appear to be involved in the slightest."

"Trahern will have to be quite drunk," the duke said. "Will your parson cooperate under such circumstances?"

"A gold piece and a bottle of whiskey will gain you whatever you seek from this man," the earl assured him with a laugh.

Suddenly a hidden door opened in the paneled wall, and a man stepped into the room. He was dressed respectably, but so anonymous in appearance was he that the duke thought you would not be able to pick him out of a group. The man bowed, saying in a gruff voice, "Good even', your lordship. I got what you want, and I come as quick as I could, as you say it's a matter of importance."

"Good evening to you, Mr. Wiggums. May I introduce my friend, Valerian Hawkesworth, the Duke of Farminster. Will you have a whiskey?" He was already pouring a tumblerful as he asked.

"I will, and thank ye," Mr. Wiggums replied, taking the tumbler and bolting it down. "Ye've got the finest whiskey in all of London, yer lordship, and that's no lie. I doubt even the king's whiskey is as good." He smacked his lips appreciatively, putting down the crystal with a thump.

"You are right, Mr. Wiggums, it isn't," the Earl of Bute said. "Now, what have you for me?"

"The wench you want goes by the name of Merry Maybelle. Rather fancies 'erself too, I can tell you. She ain't got no pimp, nor madam fronting for 'er, and she don't walk the streets. She's got two wee rooms in Tanners Alley, near the river. Some young lord brought 'er to London from the country a few years ago, and when he deserted 'er she was smart enough to move on to another young fellow of means. The word is she's a clever wench, and saves 'er money so she can entertain 'er gentlemen callers privately. She also sells flowers at the theater, which gives 'er a chance to flirt and spot prospective marks," Mr. Wiggums explained.

"What number in Tanners Alley?" the earl inquired.

"Third 'ouse on the left. Merry Maybelle is on the second floor, in the rear, overlooking the river. There's no way out but the way you come in, yer lordship."

"I want the girl here within the hour, Mr. Wiggums. Can you be discreet?" the earl said.

"Ain't I always, yer lordship?" the man said, and then without another word he turned about and disappeared through the hidden door, which shut silently behind him.

"We have only but to wait," the earl said pleasantly. "Do you fancy a game of cards, Hawkesworth?"

When the hidden door reopened exactly one hour later, Mr. Wiggums entered the room again, drawing a young woman with him. While Aurora was of medium height, this girl was tall, but she had dark blond hair that dressed properly might have passed for his wife's color in the right light. Her proportions, while not overlarge, were generous, and in keeping with her height. The amber eyes darting about the room, observing the two gentlemen, were intelligent.

"Please wait, Mr. Wiggums," the earl said, and then he turned his attention to the girl. "Now, Mistress Maybelle, I am far more powerful and dangerous than the gentleman who hired you for last night's performance at the Brimstone Club. Please answer my questions honestly, and no harm will come to you. There may even be a small something in it for you if you tell the truth. Do you understand?"

"Yes, m'lord," the young woman answered.

"Do you know the name of the gentleman who hired you last night?"

"Yes, m'lord, it were Lord Trahern" was the answer.

"Did he tell you why he was hiring you?" the earl said.

"Just that he was playing a trick on a lady friend of his," Maybelle responded. "I thought it was a rather odd trick, but he wasn't asking me to do anything I hadn't done before, and he promised me two gold crowns if I went along with him. He give me one when I agreed to help him, but he never give me the other when it was over," Maybelle said indignantly. "Said he would have to owe it to me! I don't give credit. If I did, I'd be in the street!"

Valerian Hawkesworth swallowed back a laugh and saw from the look on John Stuart's face that he, too, was struggling manfully with his own amusement, but to laugh would have offended the woman before them, who in her own way was quite ethical.

"Did Lord Trahern give you a gown to wear?" the earl continued on with his gentle interrogation.

"Oh, yes!" Maybelle said enthusiastically. "I were real upset he made me auction it off piece by piece. It were by far the prettiest gown I ever wore. I'd have taken it off, if he asked, without selling it," she said mournfully.

"Did you know any of the gentlemen involved other than Lord Trahern?" John Stuart questioned the girl further.

"Two of them, but I never spoke except at the end to thank the gentlemen nicely as Lord Trahern had instructed me," she told him.

"Which two?"

"Lord Shelley and Sir Roger Andrews, and I seen Lord Bolton once at a party I was invited to, but I was never introduced formal-like," Maybelle explained.

"Did Shelley or Andrews recognize you?" the earl queried.

"Sir Roger might have," she replied. "He kept looking at me real close, over and over, while I was there. It really began to make me nervous, I can tell you," Maybelle said.

"Sit down, Mistress Maybelle," the earl told the girl. Then he turned to Mr. Wiggums. "Do you know Sir Roger Andrews?"

"Aye, m'lord, I do. I've lent 'im a wee bit of coin on occasion. 'E always pays on time. A real gentleman, 'e is."

"Fetch him!" the earl snapped, and Mr. Wiggums was quickly gone.

"Will you have something to drink while we wait, Mistress Maybelle?" the earl inquired solicitously.

"Wouldn't mind a tad of something" was the reply.

"Whiskey or sherry?" he asked.

"Whiskey, sir," she said.

"Valerian?"

The duke shook his head.

The earl, to be polite, joined his female guest in liquid refreshment, and they sat quietly awaiting the arrival of Sir Roger. When he arrived, coming through the hidden door with Mr. Wiggums, the young peer's jaw dropped, recognizing both the earl and the duke. He bowed politely, and then his eye went to Maybelle.

"So it was you last night!" he said. "I thought so! And Trahern, that outsider, insisting that it was the Duchess of F. Your pardon, my lord! I meant no offense."

"Which is why we are here, Andrews," the earl said. "A lady's reputation is at stake, as is her family's good name. You are certain it was not the lady Trahern insists it was?"

"Good Lord, no! At first, of course, I didn't know, and then I wasn't certain, but then this morning I woke up and knew it was Maybelle. She wears this violet perfume, and I don't know any other lady who does; and she's got this heart-shaped birthmark on her left breast, just above the nipple. Not another one like it in the world, I'm quite certain!"

"Do you think any of the other men involved know who it was, Andrews?" the earl asked him.

"Lord Shelley was certain it wasn't the duchess, despite Trahern. He said her hair wasn't that color, and her perfume was entirely different, more like country air, and less exotic. Shelley said he danced with the duchess at several balls, and her eyes are blue, not brown like Maybelle's here. We couldn't figure out Trahern's game, but we surely did have a good time."

Maybelle giggled coyly. "Why don't you come and see me, then, Sir Roger? Number three, Tanners Alley, second floor rear."

The young man grinned back at her.

"You will sign a statement to that effect, Andrews?" the earl said quietly. "And you, Mistress Maybelle, if we write down your story, will you put your mark to it?"

"I can sign me name," Maybelle said proudly.

"Excellent, my dear," the Earl of Bute replied with a smile. Then he reached out and drew upon the bellpull. A moment later a young man entered the room. "Franklyn, I would like you to take down several statements. Please get your writing box."

The statements were drawn up, and read over by both Sir Roger Andrews and Maybelle. Both signed without hesitation. Mr. Wig-gums had been dispatched to fetch lords Shelley and Bolton. Sir Roger and the girl were told to be seated and remain quiet. They sat on a far and slightly darkened side of the room. Lord Shelley arrived first, explaining that- Mr. Wiggums had said he was wanted by the Earl of Bute over at St. James's Palace. One quick look around the chamber at its other occupants, and he knew immediately why he had been sent for.

Lord Shelley bowed to the earl and the duke. "This is about last night at the Brimstone, I presume," he said.

The earl nodded. "We cannot allow Hawkesworth's good name or his wife's reputation to be compromised by such a nasty prank. Sir Roger says you know it wasn't the duchess. Will you sign a statement to that effect?"

"Of course," Lord Shelley replied. "But why is it even necessary? Certainly no one there really believed it was Lady Hawkesworth, my lords. Granted the wench was an excellent fuck, but her skin had not the fine texture of a lady's. No one was fooled."

"Trahern has developed a grudge," the duke said briefly. "He is attempting to spread the rumor, and if it reaches the king's ear, both my wife and I could lose their majesties' friendship if we have not the means to repudiate such a nasty rumor."

"The man is a lowlife, a hanger-on, a scoundrel," Lord Shelley said. "If he were an animal, I would put him out of his misery for all our sakes. Pity he ain't."

"Lord Trahern will regret his actions, I promise you," the duke replied grimly.

Lord Shelley signed his statement, and then joined Sir Roger and Merry Maybelle on the darkened side of the room.

Suddenly the hidden door opened and Lord Bolton, protesting, was pushed into the room by Mr. Wiggums. "Bute!" he snarled. "Is this your doing? You had better have a damned good explanation!"

The earl quietly explained.

"Don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about," the Whig politician said. "I would never go to the Brimstone."

Valerian Hawkesworth gritted his teeth angrily. The Whigs were currently out of power, and were making strenuous efforts to thwart the king and the Earl of Bute at every turn.

"Bolton, a lady's good name is at stake," the earl said.

"Has nothing to do with me" was the reply.

Lord Shelley and Sir Roger stood up and came forward.

"Both Percy and I saw you quite plainly," Sir Roger said.

"And if you say so, you'll damn yourselves with his majesty," Bolton said smugly. "We all know what a prig he is in matters concerning morals. Makes no difference to me that the farmer duke's wife is slandered or not. Anyone who consorts with that bounder Trahern gets what they deserve."

John Stuart reached out a hand to calm the Duke of Farminster. "We can, of course, call Lady Jarvis, my lord. I do not believe she would jeopardize her place with the queen, or with her husband, to save you from scandal," the earl replied.

"L-Lady Jarvis?" Lord Bolton stuttered slightly.

"Do not deny it, Bolton. You were seen," the earl told him. "Now will you cooperate with us?"

"But the king will see," Bolton protested.

"No, he will not," the earl promised. "If this matter comes to the king's attention, and he takes it seriously, then and only then will the statements be brought forth for his eyes alone. There will be two copies. One with your full name, and the other with only an initial. That is what I will show the king. The other documents will remain in my safe, to be destroyed after the king is satisfied as to Lady Hawkesworth's innocence."

"Very well," Lord Bolton grumbled. "I suppose I must trust you, Bute. Never trusted a Tory before."

"You should embrace each new experience with eagerness," said the Earl of Bute dryly.

When Lord Bolton had signed his statement, the earl dismissed the three gentlemen with his thanks, and the admonition not to speak of that evening's events. All agreed. Now the earl and the duke turned their attention to Mistress Maybelle, who had begun to look a trifle nervous to find herself again alone with them.

"How would you like to be Lady Trahern, my dear?" the earl began. "After all, the cad owes you, does he not?"

"It would not be an easy marriage," the duke quickly interposed. "You realize that you are quite unsuitable for him, and he will be very angry to find himself bound to you in most legal and holy wedlock."

To their surprise, Maybelle came from the shadows, poured herself another tumbler of the earl's whiskey, and then, sitting down, looked them both in the eye, saying, "What's in it for me? This is how yer going to revenge yerself, ain't it, yer lordship? Well, the truth of the matter is that I quite fancy being a lady. A real lady, not just some tricked-into-marriage wife for yer convenience."

"What do you want?" the earl asked her.

"Well," Maybelle told him, "I know I ain't a bad-looking female. With the right clothes I might look the part, but I don't know nothing about being a lady. Because I'm a whore don't mean I don't want to better myself. I weren't born a whore. I was born a farmer's daughter in Essex, and foolish enough to listen to the master's younger son when he said he loved me. But when he left me, I didn't go to pieces. I saw quick enough once we got to London how it was going to be, and him always delaying the wedding. I made certain I had enough to live on before he went off. I've picked and chosen the men I wanted to protect me, but it ain't no easy life, and I'm twenty-five now, and here in London ten years. I got to think of my old age now, I do. I'll help you, but you got to help me. I want a sum of money put aside with a goldsmith of my choosing first off, and then I want lessons in how to be a lady."

"How much?" the duke asked her.

"Five hundred pounds, yer lordship. I can live comfortable the rest of my life on that, and it ain't, I suspect, that much to you. Call it my dowry"-she smiled-" 'cept the bridegroom ain't going to get it to gamble away. Don't think I don't know Lord Trahern ain't got a pot to piss in, because I do know."

"Why do you want lessons in being a lady?" the earl asked her, quite curious by the request.

"Yer little lordling will eventually drink himself into the grave or desert me," Maybelle said. "Once he weds me, his own kind won't want to have anything to do with him, will they? Well, when he's gone I can set myself up with a nice dress shop, and while I won't get the gentry for customers, I'll get those just below them on the social ladder because I'm a damned good seamstress, but only if I knows how to talk right, and have nice manners, yer lordship," the girl finished.

"I will pay your dowry, Mistress Maybelle," the duke said quietly. "Is it only the money that convinces you to help me?"

"Nah," she told him. "Look, yer lordship, I'm tired of being a whore. I knows better, but how on earth am I ever going to be able to get out of the life I've made for myself, and into a new life, if I don't take a chance. Yer offer is a heaven-sent opportunity."

"Trahern will not be easy," he warned her.

"I know he won't," Maybelle replied. Then, "Does he own any property at all? I mean a place I can call home."

"He has a small house down in Suffolk somewhere," the duke said, "and, of course, he keeps rooms here in London."

Maybelle nodded. "Any family?"

"A younger sister married to a clergyman and a younger brother in the army," John Stuart supplied. "The brother is out in India, and unmarried, I believe."

"So he'll get the title one day when my Charlie kicks the bucket," Maybelle said thoughtfully.

"Unless you give Trahern an heir," the earl said, smiling.

"Don't want no brats fouling up my life," she replied, "unless, of course, that house in Suffolk is entailed on the title. His rooms here in Suffolk he'll be renting."

"The house could be in debt," the duke warned.

"You'll find out for me, my lord?" Maybelle turned to the Earl of Bute. "I'll marry the devil whenever you want me to, but I'll need to know sooner than later if the house can be mine one day without having a kid. You understand. I got to take care of meself 'cause I don't have anyone else who will."

"You don't have to do this," Valerian Hawkesworth said, feeling guilty already, but the young woman soothed him immediately.

"Listen, yer lordship, I'd marry old Scratch himself for five hundred pounds. Don't you feel sorry for me now. I knows just what I'm getting myself into, and I can handle his lordship."

"Very well, then, Mistress Maybelle," the Earl of Bute said. "Hawkesworth, do you have a plan?"

"I do" came the solemn reply. "Oh, I most certainly do."

^{Chapter 17}

Charles Trahern was astounded to receive an invitation to the Duke and Duchess of Farminster's farewell ball. At first he thought it must be a mistake, that the duchess's social secretary had forgotten to strike his name from their list of welcome guests, but no retraction came. Then a few days later he received a note penned in Aurora's own hand saying although she was still quite piqued at his taking her to that awful club, she would forgive him, and was looking forward to seeing him at their ball. He was amazed.

Had they not heard the rumors about her? Come to think of it, no one had heard the rumors he had sought to have spread. All the gentlemen involved in that delightful night of debauchery, rather than bragging about it, were astonishingly silent on the matter. Of course, none of them had been that drunk, and when he reconsidered the whole affair, he realized that none of them were fooled. It had probably been put down to a wicked prank on Trahern's part. On one hand, he was relieved, and on the other, a bit disappointed. And now the Hawkesworths were leaving London. He knew it was not likely he would meet up with them again. So, he would go to their ball. It was to be a masked and costumed affair, and he did love such spectacles!

"I shall go as Romeo," he said aloud to himself, and then he sat down and wrote a note to Aurora accepting the invitation and telling her of his costume plans.

Aurora laughed when she read Trahern's missive. "Make certain you run into him at Boodles," she told her husband, "and be sure he doesn't change his plans. We have the perfect Juliet for him, my darling, don't we?"

The white and gold ballroom at Farminster House was turned out vigorously over the next few days. The paint and the gilt was touched up. The parquet floor was waxed until it shone brightly. Even the gilt ceiling moldings and the painted ceiling of the ballroom itself were inspected for damage and repaired where necessary. The crystal chandeliers were carefully lowered, and each individual arm, candle saucer, and teardrop washed and carefully polished, as were the matching crystal and silver sconces attached to the walls. Each of the lighting fixtures was neatly fitted with beeswax candles that would burn evenly and not smoke too greatly. The windows were cleaned both inside and out. The sky-blue satin draperies hanging from those windows were brushed free of cobwebs and dust, their heavy gold rope tiebacks replaced with new ones.

A dais was set up at one end of the room for the musicians. The musicians had been hired, and carefully instructed in their duties. The ball would be opened and closed with a minuet, but Aurora also wanted lively Scotch reels, the contredanse, the ecossaise, and other English country dances played as well. This would not be a dull and stuffy evening like so many balls. Her guests would have fun.

As for the invitations, they were hard to come by, as the ballroom at Farminster House could comfortably contain only about one hundred and fifty people. Since King George and Queen Charlotte had accepted their invitation, the Hawkesworths' farewell ball had become one of the last real social events of the season. There were many who felt to be left out was to lose social standing. Consequently, many of the lesser families departed London for their country houses in an effort to appear as if they had important business elsewhere and couldn't possibly attend another ball this season.

There was a rectangular room next to the ballroom known as the Buffet Room. It, too, was turned out, and an enormous mahogany table covered in Irish linen and lace was set up to contain the refreshments which would, of course, include an unlimited supply of French champagne. Small gilt chairs upholstered in rose and cream tapestry as well as chairs done in pale blue velvet were set all about the ballroom and the buffet. There would be a cloakroom, and two rooms set aside for a ladies' necessary and a gentlemen's necessary. Favors were chosen to give the guests. Small silver gilt snuffboxes for the gentlemen, and pomander balls tied with gilt ribbons for the ladies. A menu was chosen for the midnight buffet; the flatware, the candelabra, and serving pieces were polished; and all was in readiness. Fresh flowers would be brought in to be arranged and set about on the day of the Farminster ball.

Maybelle, whose last name it turned out was Monypenny, was brought discreetly to the house several times to be fitted for her costume. She was quite a pretty girl, mannerly, and quiet-spoken. She had already begun her lessons in deportment. She watched carefully as the seamstress fitted and pinned the costume, making one or two gentle suggestions to the woman, which were at first received with surprise, and then gratitude, for Maybelle obviously knew her way with a needle, and the seamstress said so approvingly.

The Juliet gown was of creamy velvet, fitted beneath the bosom, the sleeves long and coming to a point at the wrists, the narrow skirt falling in graceful folds about its wearer's feet, which would be shod in fiat satin slippers. The neckline of the gown was trimmed with dainty lilac-colored silk flowers, and there would be a gold brocade girdle about Maybelle's hips. Her dark blond hair would be confined in a golden caul, and her swansdown feather mask would be decorated in tiny pearls and diamante. When the final fitting was done, Maybelle looked every bit the lady she wanted to be.

The king and the queen would be coming as two of their royal ancestors, King Edward III and his queen, Phillipa of Hainault. Valerian and Aurora had decided on simpler costumes, that of a Roman general and his wife, a proper Roman matron. As they stood greeting their guests on the night of the ball, both the duke and the duchess were delighted by the variety of costumes that entered Farminster House, passing up the staircase to the receiving line. There was a Henry VIII and all of his six wives; a Richard, Coeur de Lion; Robin Hood and Maid Marian; Turkish sultans and sultanas; lords and ladies of bygone eras; a Louis XIV in his red high heels; several devils; two cardinals; seven medieval monks; pirates, Gypsies, and some ancient British warriors. Sir Roger Andrews came as a colonial frontiersman, Lord Shelley as a harlequin, the Earl of Bute, a Scots warrior.

Because the king rarely varied his bedtime hour, the handwritten invitations read "eight o'clock." The royal couple arrived at a quarter to nine, and the ball officially began with the Duke of Farminster partnering Queen Charlotte, and his wife, King George, in the stately figure of the minuet. As they danced, the king said, "Madam, I have lately heard a most unpleasant rumor, which I was relieved to learn was naught but that. Do you know of what I speak?"

"My husband has mentioned that Lord Trahern attempted to play a rather naughty jest upon me, but was stopped. Valerian would not go into detail, your majesty, for he said the jest was in such poor and dreadful taste that a decent woman should not hear of it. I was, of course, quite put out that our friendship should be repaid in so unkind a manner, but I have forgiven Trahern for my dear late sister's sake. She was always quite fond of him."

"A most charitable and Christian attitude, my dear lady," the king said approvingly. "And the duke was quite right not to divulge the full extent of Lord Trahern's perfidy. The slander was not one fit for a lady's ears. It was quite poor judgment on Trahern's part, and I shall personally admonish him myself, madam."

"I thank your majesty for his kindness and his friendship," Aurora replied sweetly, "but most of all, I am grateful that your majesty would reach out to protect my good name. It is a comfort to know I have two such fine knights such as yourself and my husband."

"Quite so, madam! Quite so!" the king said, bowing gracefully to her as the dance came to an end.

"Excellent," the duke told his wife when she had repeated her encounter with the king. "He heard, was assured it was false, did not believe anyway, and is suspicious of Trahern. Now Trahern's marriage cannot help but destroy him and his credibility in the eyes of polite society. I am very pleased by this turn of events."

The king and his wife departed exactly an hour after they had arrived, but the ball went on into the wee hours. More and more of the lively country dances were played. The champagne flowed more freely than at any other ball that season, it was noted by those who kept track of such things. The Duke of Farminster's hospitality could not be faulted in the slightest. The guests began to depart, warmly thanking their host and hostess for a most enjoyable evening. Finally only Sir Roger, Lord Shelley, and Trahern remained. The musicians had been paid, and were packing up their instruments.

"More champagne!" Trahern called to a passing footman, who obliged as he had been instructed. Charles Trahern was quite drunk and slightly confused. Not once had Aurora danced with him that evening, and he could not understand why after her conciliatory note to him. Each time he had approached her she had disappeared into the crowd, and several times she had insisted that rather than dance with him, he dance with a mysterious lady garbed as Juliet. The lady had simpered and giggled at him, and even permitted him to steal a kiss, but not once had she spoken to him. Now she appeared out of the shadows of the ballroom and plunked herself down in his lap.

"Hello, Charlie," she said to him, and provocatively wiggled her ample bottom against him.

He slid his hand boldly down her neckline, giving a rather big breast a good squeeze and tweaking the nipple. "You're nice," he mumbled, nuzzling her neck. "What's your name?"

"Why, Juliet, my Romeo," she answered him.

"Wanna fuck?" he said crudely.

Maybelle giggled. "You're bold! Have some more champagne, Charlie. Juliet's a virgin, and don't fuck without a wedding band."

Lord Trahern stood up, almost dumping the woman on his lap upon the floor. "Then le's get married," he slurred drunkenly. "I saw lots of monks here tonight. Any left who can marry us?"

The single footman filled Trahern's glass again, and he drank it down quickly, holding it out for another refill.

"The man's a fool," murmured Sir Roger. "Closing the trap on him's almost too easy. Ain't no sport in it at all."

"The fun comes when he realizes what he's done and that he can't get out of it," Lord Shelley said, laughing softly.

"Where's the priest!" Trahern half shouted. "Can't fuck Juliet till she has her marriage!"

"Why, Charles, you rogue," the duke said, coming forward with a cleric. "So you want to wed this pretty creature, do you?"

"Aye, your grace, I'll marry her, and then we get to fuck!" Lord Trahern said enthusiastically. "Where's your good lady. She can be Juliet's witness!"

"Here I am, Charles," Aurora said, coming forward.

"Wouldn't dance with me this evening," he muttered. "Why wouldn't you dance with me, Aurora?"

"Poor Charles," she said. "I'm sorry, but my duties as your hostess just overwhelmed me. I promise you two dances at the next ball we attend, all right?"

Trahern quaffed down his glass of champagne, saying, "Le's get married, Juliet!"

The ceremony was duly performed, and then Trahern signed the papers put before him by the duke, his hand guided by the clergyman, for it was shaking as his excesses of the evening began to overtake him. The Duke and Duchess of Farminster along with Lord Shelley and Sir Roger signed the marriage papers as witnesses. The minister was paid most generously, and departed with his bag of coins and two bottles of French champagne. While Aurora distracted Trahern, the duke took the new Lady Trahern aside.

"I had your husband sign two sets of the papers. If he should ever find yours, come to me for the duplicates," Valerian Hawkesworth told Maybelle.

"He ain't going to find 'em," she said firmly. "After he sobers up and sees 'em, I'll give 'em to the goldsmith to keep safe. My witnesses will speak up for me, won't they?"

"They will, your ladyship," the duke said, and he kissed May-belle's hand. To his surprise, she did not giggle or simper.

"Thank you for your friendship, your grace," she said quietly.

The three men loaded Trahern into the duke's coach, the duke giving his coachmen instructions to help her ladyship get her husband into his house, and his bed, before departing. The carriage rumbled off, and the three men reentered the house where Aurora was awaiting them with a celebratory glass of champagne.

"Gentlemen," she said, raising her glass to them, "I thank you for your help in protecting my good name. You will always be welcomed at Hawkes Hill by my husband and me. We are in your debt."

"Actually, madam," Sir Roger said, "it was rather fun," and he grinned mischievously.

"Never liked Trahern anyway," Lord Shelley said. "Man's a damned scoundrel. Actually feel sorry for the wench."

"You need not," the duke promised him. "Lady Maybelle Trahern is quite up to the task of handling her husband."

"Can't wait to brut it about tomorrow at Boodles," chortled Sir Roger. "I imagine if Trahern dares to show his face, he'll have quite a head. Ha! Ha!"

"We'll take our leave, then," Lord Shelley said. "It was a grand party, ma'am." He kissed Aurora's hand.

Sir Roger then kissed her hand and thanked Aurora.

When the door had closed behind the two gentlemen, Aurora and Valerian looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"I can't believe that we actually pulled it off!" she said.

"Shelley was right," Valerian replied. "There really wasn't much sport in it. At least not quite yet."

"You will go to Boodles tomorrow afternoon?" she asked as they walked hand in hand up the staircase.

"My only regret is that you won't be there," he answered her. "I shall report it to you in careful detail."

"I intend going with you," she said.

"Women are not allowed in Boodles."

"I'll dress myself as a boy, and you will pass me off as your cousin, St. John," Aurora told him.

The duke was about to protest, and then he laughed. "All right, my darling," he agreed. "Why not? You deserve to be there at the kill, and if any notice, they will remain silent in agreement. Men like Trahern cannot be allowed to stain any woman's reputation unfairly." Entering the ducal apartments, he drew her into his arms. "Revenge really can be sweet, Aurora, can it not?" His lips brushed hers.

"Ummmmm," she murmured, and ran her tongue along his lips. "Very, very sweet, my lord."

"I like your Roman matron's costume," he said softly in her ear, loosening it so that it fell away from her body.

"And I adore your conquering general," she replied, unfastening his sword and scabbard and sliding her hand beneath his tunic as it clanked to the floor.

He pushed her back against the closed doors of their bedchamber, and sliding his hands beneath her buttocks raised her up, then lowered her upon his rock-hard lance. Aurora put her arms about his neck and kissed him passionately, allowing him to guide their lovemaking to a torrid peak. The walls of her silken passage clutched at him, arousing him to an even hotter lust. Holding her, he walked slowly to the bed, never once breaking their conjunction as they collapsed upon the down comforter. Her legs were wrapped tightly about his torso. Pressing her back into the mattress, he moved himself slowly and with great deliberation, delving deeply into her depths. And when she finally spasmed sweetly, his own desire exploded rapturously.

"You are perfect!" he said several minutes later when he had finally managed to come to himself again.

"As are you, my lord," she told him contentedly. She really did have to tell him soon about their baby. After tomorrow, Aurora thought sleepily, rolling over onto her side with a drowsy sigh.

He drew the coverlet up over her, smiling softly. What a woman she was! Not simply beautiful, but clever and intelligent as well. Neither his father nor hers could have known it when they matched their children all those long years back, but it really was the perfect marriage. They had begun badly, but thank God they were now on a straight path. He smiled to himself. Not so Charles Trahern. Come the morning, when he was sobered up, he was in for quite a shock. And would he come to Boodles tomorrow afternoon? Yes, the duke decided. He would come because he wouldn't believe Maybelle despite her marriage lines. He would think it a jest being played on him in retaliation for his attempt to slander Aurora. So he would come to Boodles and learn that he was indeed married to one of London's finest whores, Merry Maybelle Monypenny. And the Duke of Farminster and his duchess would both be there to witness their revenge.

And indeed at four o'clock the next afternoon the duke and his visiting cousin, St. John, were seated in the bow window of Boodles, awaiting the arrival of Lord Charles Trahern, who always arrived promptly at five past four each day, if he hadn't come earlier for luncheon. Lord Shelley and Sir Roger had already spread the news of Trahern's precipitous marital union with Merry Maybelle. Many of the club's members were in proximity to the front door and the bow window.

"He comes," the duke murmured as Trahern stepped briskly down the street. He was attired, as always, in the height of fashion. His breeches were black and fitted above the knee. His stockings had not a wrinkle in them, and his shoes sported square silver buckles. His coat was buff, the patterned waistcoat beneath it a lavender and white. There was lace at his throat and at his wrists. His powdered wig was topped by a tricorn hat with gold braid, and he carried a long walking stick ornamented with an amber knot. He looked a bit under the weather, but the duke knew Trahern would never vary his daily routine.

As Lord Trahern stepped into the club, he was suddenly surrounded by its members all congratulating him upon his marriage.

"Nonsense!" he said. "I've not gotten married. 'Twas only a jest, gentlemen." His eye spotted the duke. "Was it not, Hawkesworth? A fine jest that you played on me."

"A jest?" the duke drawled. "I played no jest upon you, Trahern. You are a married man these-" He paused, and drawing forth a round silver hunter's case from his watch pocket, snapped it open and peered closely at it. "Twelve hours and six minutes. Yes, that is it. Your bride is well, I trust? You have certainly made a most interesting choice in a wife, Trahern."

About them there was a flurry of knowing snickers, and Lord Trahern flushed.

"I am not married to her!" he said emphatically.

"But, my dear fellow," Valerian Hawkesworth said pleasantly, "I am afraid that you are. I witnessed it, as did my wife, and both Sir Roger Andrews and Lord Percival Shelley. Are you calling us liars?"

"I can't be married to her!" Trahern protested.

"Bridegroom's nerves after the fact, Trahern? You were certainly eager enough last night." The duke smiled, and the other club members crowding about the two men laughed aloud.

"It is a trick!" Trahern cried desperately. "You have tricked me into this position, and it is not legal! I shall hire a lawyer to protect me in this matter."

"There was no trick," the duke told him. "No one initiated the marriage but you yourself. You insisted upon marrying the wench because, as you so succinctly put it, your Juliet wouldn't fuck without a wedding ring. The ball was over, and most of our guests had taken their leave, and you demanded we fetch a man of the cloth to marry you to Maybelle Monypenny. You cannot fault us for following your orders, my dear Trahern. You are a married man now, and we have witnesses to that fact."

"I was drunk!" Trahern wailed. His life had suddenly become a nightmare, and if this marriage was indeed legal, he was ruined. While some of his male acquaintances might continue to associate with him here at the club-if indeed the club allowed him to retain his membership-no respectable hostess would invite him, nor would their majesties invite him. Not a man married to a notorious whore!

"You are quite frequently drunk, Trahern," the duke said smoothly. "I have never before known it to impair your judgment."

Charles Trahern's eyes almost bulged from his head. He suddenly had the look of a trapped rat. The duke was adamant in his insistence that he was a married man, and both Andrews and Shelley were in his line of view, and they were grinning at him like smug loons. Maybelle had shown him the marriage lines, and these very respectable men were silently telling Trahern that they would go into court and swear to the validity of his marriage. They would not perjure themselves, he knew, especially not Valerian Hawkesworth, who prided himself on his ethics. "You bastard!" he snarled at the duke. "You did this! I know you did!"

His antagonist's eyes were suddenly cold with disdain as he scathingly dismissed Charles Trahern. Valerian Hawkesworth turned to his companion. "Come, Cousin St. John," he said. "It is time to go home now." Graciously he acknowledged Sir Roger, Lord Shelley, and the other gentlemen as they moved through the path opening for them amid the crowd. At the front door of Boodles the duke lifted his hat to the members and stepped forth onto the street where his coach awaited. His companion, catching Sir Roger's eye for the briefest of moments, winked mischievously.

Sir Roger Andrews burst out laughing as in a flash he recognized Aurora in the young man's garb.

Hearing him, Aurora grinned with satisfaction as she joined her husband in their carriage and it moved off into the London traffic back to Farminster House. Trahern, they learned the next morning as they prepared to leave, had gotten himself gloriously drunk, and when Boodles had finally closed the previous evening, Mr. Almack, its owner and founder, had asked several of the gentlemen to escort Lord Trahern home, where his wife, Lady Maybelle, was awaiting him with some very harsh words. This was reported to them by Sir Roger, who had come by to wish them a safe and speedy journey. The entire ton was alternately shocked, fascinated, and titillated by Charles Trahern's marriage, Sir Roger said, and he was already bestruck from the guest lists of English society. Mr. Almack, however, had a kinder heart than London's prime hostesses. As long as Lord Trahern paid his chits within a reasonable time, he would remain a member of Boodles.

"Almack says a fellow's got to have a place to escape the old ball and chain, even an unsuitable one," Sir Roger stated as he took his leave of the Duke and Duchess of Farminster, never once alluding to Aurora's masquerade the previous day, for Sir Roger prided himself on his gentlemanly behavior. And he also secretly believed that the young duchess had deserved the opportunity to see the downfall of the man who had attempted to slander her name in so vile a manner.

Their journey home to Hawkes Hill was a pleasant one, for England was experiencing a spate of fair weather and the roads were hard and firm, not dusty with drought or muddy with rain. Their armed escort assured that no highwaymen would accost them or their baggage coaches. When Hawkes Hill came into view, the coach suddenly stopped, much to the duke's surprise, and a footman opened the door of the vehicle, lowering the steps for their descent. The duke looked puzzled, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Aurora spoke instead.

"I have asked to have the carriage stop here," she said. "Do you mind if we walk the rest of the way home. We can see the house, and it isn't really far, Valerian."

"If it would please you," he said, curious, and leaping out, turned back to help her descend. "Go along, Mainwaring," he said to his coachman when they were clear of the coach. "Her grace would like to walk."

Aurora slipped her hand through Valerian's, and they walked together as their transport rumbled past them and across the greensward toward Hawkes Hill. The air was sweet and warm, as they passed through a nearby field covered in rock rose, poppies, and daisies. "Ohhh, it is so good to be home," she said. "I will never leave again no matter what," Aurora declared vehemently.

"What is it?" he asked her intuitively.

"What is what?" she teased him.

"You have something to tell me," he said. "I sense it, my darling. I am so attuned to you, Aurora, that you will never be able to keep anything of import from me." He stopped and looked down into her face questioningly.

"We are to have a baby," she said, laughing. "Oh, Valerian, I am so happy! A baby! Our first child! How I have longed to give you an heir. I never realized it until suddenly I realized that I was with child. Martha knew immediately. And when I told Lotte, she insisted that her own physician examine me, and he said yes!"

He had grown pale with shock. "No!" he said in a strangulated voice. "My God, Aurora! What have I done to you in my lust for you?"

She was startled. "Don't you want our baby?" she said.

"Not if it means losing you," he cried desperately, catching her to his chest. "I love you, Aurora, and I do not want you to die as your sister did! I could not bear to lose you, my darling!"

Aurora burst out laughing and pulled away from him. "Oh, Valerian, I am not Cally. I want this baby. I am overjoyed to be carrying this child. The queen's physician says I am in excellent health and spirits. He says I should have a houseful of babies with no danger to my health. I am not Cally."

"But your own mother died in childbirth," he said.

"Many white women in the Indies do, Valerian," she said. "We have no medical assistance, and must depend upon our women servants, who are as ignorant there as they are here. St. Timothy is a small island domain. Perhaps if we had lived on Barbados, or Jamaica, my mother would not have died. I am not my mother, and I shall have a doctor to shepherd me through my confinement. I will not have you worrying until November, Valerian. I won't!"

He kissed her, his mouth softly caressing hers, and then he swept her up in his arms and began walking toward the house.

"What on earth are you doing, Valerian Hawkesworth?" she squealed. "Put me down this instant, my lord!"

"You must not overtax yourself, my darling," he said seriously.

"You are a great fool," she laughed, snuggling into his embrace and laying her head against his shoulder.

"What has happened to Aurora!" The old dowager came hurrying toward them. "Is she all right, Valerian? Why are you carrying her?"

"I am to have a baby, madam, and this great fool has gone mad, I believe. Come, my lord, put me down. I will not endure another scandal at your hands now that I am at last safely home."

"Put her down at once, sir!" his grandmother commanded, and the duke obeyed with a grin. Then she turned to Aurora. "My dear, 1 am so happy for you both!" She kissed Aurora on both her pink cheeks. "And you also, my lord. How was London?"

"Crowded, dirty, noisy, and scandalous," the duke replied. "I am home to stay, dear madam. Scandal or no, we are home for good, and nothing will convince me otherwise."

"Their majesties are well? What is she like?" the old lady inquired.

"Delightful," Aurora said. "It was the queen's physician who confirmed my condition. She, too, is with child, and will deliver England's next king in August, madam."

"How wonderful!" the dowager replied as they entered the house, Peters hurrying forth to take their cloaks.

"Welcome home, your grace," the butler said to the duke. "Welcome home, your grace." He bowed to Aurora. "Tea is being served in the Yellow Salon."

They hurried into the sunny room and settled themselves.

"And has the scandal of our marriage died down yet, my dear grandmother?" the duke said, pouring himself a sherry in lieu of the tea the old woman was now serving.

"Of course," she said, "although for a while I thought it would not what with the reports of your riotous living up in London returning to titillate the district."

"Riotous living?" Aurora burst out laughing. "Someone has a rather fertile imagination, Grandmama. We lived a most circumspect life, I fear. I became friends with the queen, who is really a sweet little hausfrau, as am I. I think anyone else would have been bored to death. Several of the queen's ladies were, in fact, quite put out by our friendship. I was not, I fear, grand enough for them, and quite dull in their eyes, what with my talk of preserves and soapmaking."

The dowager chortled. "Well, my dears, you have at last been supplanted by a far more shocking scandal. It should be some time before it dies down, I am happy to say, at which point you and Valerian will be considered a respectable married couple, especially as you are to have an heir before the year is out." She chortled again, her blue eyes dancing with merriment.

"Well," the duke said, sounding just slightly aggravated, "are you going to tell us, Grandmama, what this new and obviously delicious scandal is?" He sipped his sherry.

"It does involve the family," the dowager teased him.

"St. John!" Aurora guessed. "It has to be St. John. Only he would have the ability to cause a greater scandal than we did."

The dowager laughed aloud now.

"Well, dammit, madam, what has my cousin done?" the duke demanded irritably. "I am astounded that he would try to outdo our alleged calumny, but then, St. John always must have the last word!"

The dowager laughed harder, tears coming to her eyes. "Well, dearest Valerian, he has indeed outdone you this time, and the entire district is talking about it, will be talking about it for months to come. What a rascal St. John is, but this time he has bitten off a tiny bit more than he can chew, although his fate is a better one than he deserves, I can tell you."

"Well, what has he done?" the duke almost shouted.

The dowager managed to compose herself. "St. John," she said, "eloped two days ago to Gretna Green with Miss Isabelle Bowen!"