The Decadent Duke Read online

  “Are you watching Charles Lennox?” her brother asked.

  Georgina blinked. I didn’t even see Charlotte’s husband. Her glance roamed across the benches. Why, there’s Lord Holland. How on earth did I miss seeing Henry? She knew the answer all too well. She had eyes only for John Russell. She grudgingly admitted the surly sod was the sole purpose of her visit today.

  Georgina was disappointed when the parliamentary session ended abruptly and it was ruled that the members would address the subject tomorrow and thereafter until they reached a resolution.

  George was in no hurry to leave the gallery, and by the time they descended the stairs, the members of parliament were also leaving. “Don’t rush out, Georgina. Let’s wait for Lennox. I’d like a word with him.”

  She acquiesced against her better judgment. She didn’t want John Russell to know she had been in the gallery today.

  “Charles. Over here!” George raised his voice and waved.

  Lennox spoke over his shoulder to a couple of men behind him, and they cut through the crowd toward George.

  “How about attending the Newmarket races this weekend?”

  “I’d love to, George.” Charles turned to Lord Holland. “How about you, Henry? Newmarket this weekend?”

  “Why not? I haven’t been to the races in an age.” He turned to his friend John Russell. "How about you, John?”

  "Sorry. My sons are back at school, and I promised to visit with them at Westminster this weekend.”

  Georgina’s eyes met Russell’s. She looked away quickly, and smiled at Lord Holland, who never missed a chance to lightly flirt with her. "How are you, Henry? I took great delight in watching you from the gallery this afternoon.”

  "You know exactly how to flatter a man, Lady Georgina. But John here was the one to watch today.” He addressed Russell. "Your brother, Francis, invited Beth and myself to the Woburn races the following weekend. I hope you can attend Bedford’s annual affair. Beth and I haven’t seen your wife in ages.”

  "My wife is visiting her sister, Lady Bath, but I hope to be at Woburn for the annual races.” John’s dark glance swept over Georgina and came to rest on the brilliant poppies decorating her hat. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The bold young hussy is deliberately flamboyant so she can catch every male eye and be the center of attention.

  "Then the plans are set,” George declared. "Newmarket this weekend and Woburn next.”

  "Will you be joining your brother, Lady Georgina?” Lord Holland asked. "Beth would enjoy your company.”

  Georgina saw the dark frown of disapproval on the old man’s face.

  "No,” George said firmly. "My sister doesn’t make her debut until the first week of October.”

  Georgina’s glance swept over Russell’s face, and she smiled sweetly. "All plans should be made for the happiness of the many and not for the benefit of the few.”

  John Russell knew she was deliberately mocking him. He had said those words in connection with the government when they had dined together at Marylebone Manor. The girl needs her arse tanned.

  Chapter 8

  It seemed like every hour of every day was taken up with plans concerning Georgina’s coming debut. There were fittings for her new wardrobe as well as shopping excursions to Bond Street. She spent an entire day on the guest list for her coming-out ball, but the following day her mother pointed out just how many important people she had overlooked, and together they amended it.

  "he list totals three hundred!” Georgina protested.

  "There is no point in having a coming-out ball unless it is on a grand scale. And you can be sure the Duchess of Devonshire will invite everyone in fashionable society, including his brother, to the ball she throws for her daughter Dorothy.”

  Under no circumstances must the Duchess of Belgrave be allowed to outdo the Duchess of Drinkwater!

  "That reminds me, I have a dancing class at Devonshire House this afternoon.”

  "No, I have arranged for the dancing master to come here for the next two weeks. The Cavendish girls will have to have their lessons here for a change.”

  "Oh dear, this is shaping up to be a battle of the maternal rivals,” Georgina said with amusement.

  "Rubbish! We have collaborated so that our daughters’ coming-out balls fall on different nights of the week. I’ll have the invitations printed immediately so that our footmen can deliver them personally.”

  The following day, Georgina enjoyed a respite from discussions of gowns, guests, food, and flower arrangements for her ball, when her brother escorted her to visit the House of Lords, as promised.

  As she looked down from the gallery, she recognized some of the faces. "There is the Duke of Devonshire.”

  "Good God, there’s an aberration for you. The man leads a nocturnal life and spends every night at Brooks’s Club swilling booze until his back teeth float. This will likely be his sole appearance in the Lords all year.”

  "He never smiles.” Georgina felt pity for his family.

  "He can’t smile. The muscles of his face have been paralyzed by sugar of lead that he applies to conceal the redness.”

  "I am getting an education today.” Her avid glance moved about the benches. "There’s Susan’s husband. I must say, the Duke of Manchester looks bored to death. I don’t think he’s listening.”

  "Of course not. William is far too athletic to sit still and listen to a debate on the Irish problem.”

  "He is an extremely handsome man.” Susan did well for herself.

  "Yes, women go mad over him.”

  Then perhaps she didn’t do well for herself!

  "Francis Russell is about to enter the debate.”

  Since this was the man whom Georgina had come to observe, she focused her attention on him and listened. Though his argument is solid enough, the Duke of Bedford is addressing his opponent with utter indifference. She watched as he gave sneering replies to his adversaries. "Bedford treats everyone with contempt.”

  "Oh, Francis has atrocious manners.”

  It must run in the family!

  "Fortunately, he is wealthy enough to get away with it.”

  She changed the subject. "The House of Lords is supposed to keep a check on government by scrutinizing its activities. And it also has the power of veto over the House of Commons, I believe.”

  "I’m amazed you have an interest in this political rambling.”

  Georgina gazed down at Francis Russell. He is better looking than his stern-faced brother, John, and he is certainly a fashion plate, but there is a debauched look about him somehow. He gives off the scent of lechery. I warrant he’s a self-indulgent devil, but as the richest duke in England, how could he be otherwise?

  At four sharp, the debate ended. The noblemen had far more important interests to pursue than government matters. Their clubs beckoned, where they were free to indulge their twin vices of drink and gaming.

  George tried to catch up with his brother-in-law as he left parliament, but the Duke of Manchester’s carriage was at the door waiting for him.

  Georgina stared after William Montagu. "Who the devil was that woman in William’s carriage? It certainly wasn’t Susan.”

  George shrugged. "One of his petites amies, I expect.”

  Georgina was shocked, and felt outrage for her sister.

  "Huntly, what are you doing here?”Francis Russell asked as his glance licked over Georgina.

  "Oh, hello, Bedford. I just missed Manchester. I was going to ask him if he was going to your races at Woburn this weekend.”

  "Yes, Manchester accepted my invitation. Dare I hope that Lady Georgina will be joining us?”

  "You may always hope, Your Grace,” Georgina said coolly.

  "She will not be joining us. My sister is teasing you.”

  "She certainly is,” Bedford drawled.

  "We visited the Commons last week, where I observed your brother addressing the Irish problem.”

  "How do we compare?” Francis asked smugly.


  "Your brother is far more passionate.”

  "Not in all things.” His words were deliberately risqué.

  "That remains to be seen, Your Grace. Good day.”

  George hurried to catch up with his sister, who had walked away. "You shouldn’t banter with Bedford like that. He is a known womanizer.”

  "From what I’ve observed lately, what nobleman isn’t?”

  "He’s more profligate than others. His mistresses are legion. I’d just like you to be careful, Georgy. After your debut, the men will be swarming about you like bees round a honeypot.”

  "I am in no hurry to be leg-shackled, George, especially to a man with a string of mistresses.”

  "Leg-shackled is a term used by the male of the species.”

  "Until now. Perhaps I’ll set a new fashion.”

  "You underestimate Mother’s husband-hunting abilities. They don’t call her the ’Whipper-in’ for nothing.”

  Mother caught a powerful noble for herself, and great titles for my sisters, but I wonder if any of them

  are truly happy? Georgina shivered and sent up a silent prayer.

  "Are you cold?” George asked with concern.

  "No, no. Just a goose walking over my grave.”

  Francis Russell returned to the Bedford London mansion in Russell Square. Not only did the Russells own the mansion and the entire square, they owned all of Bloomsbury. The brothers used different wings of the mansion whenever they were in London, but they often supped together in the evenings after their parliamentary sessions.

  Francis drove through the wrought-iron gates and turned his phaeton over to a stableman. As he was walking through the gardens toward the house, he ran into his brother. "Hello, John. Why the frown?”

  "Francis, these gardens are in a hell of a state. The place is like an overgrown jungle. I thought you were going to get someone in here to redesign them and make the place look civilized.”

  "Never seem to find the time. You worry about things too much. You always put duty before pleasure and expect me to do the same.”

  "If you can’t find the time, Francis, I’ll do it. Humphrey Repton is a great landscape gardener—just the man we need.”

  "If Repton suits you, he suits me. Let’s go and eat. Would you like to join me at Brooks’s tonight?”

  "No, thanks. I’m working on a speech I intend to deliver in the House tomorrow. This Irish matter must be resolved.”

  "There you go again—duty before pleasure. With your wife off visiting her sister, you should take time for something pleasurable.”

  "I am—I’m coming to Woburn this weekend for the annual races.”

  In the dining room, over dinner, Francis eyed his brother with speculative eyes. "Do you know, wearing your own dark hair is rather striking. I’ve been considering leaving off my wig. It could set a new fashion.”

  "I wear my own hair to protest the tax on flour. It has nothing to do with fashion.”

  "But if I did it, John, it would have everything to do with fashion. You know I’m all for pleasure before duty.”

  "I am well aware, Francis.”

  "You say that as if I am derelict in my duty.”

  "In one thing you are absolutely derelict. As the Duke of Bedford you need an heir. You have vast wealth, enormous property holdings in London, as well as estates in the shires of Bedford, Buckingham, Cambridge, Devon, and Northampton. You need a son and heir to pass all this on to, and to carry on your name.”

  "I would need to marry to beget an heir,” Francis said dryly.

  "You would indeed. At thirty-six, soon to be thirty-seven years old, surely it is time to start looking about you for a suitable wife?”

  "You never seem to tire of nagging me on this subject, but as usual, John, though I hate to admit it, you are right. I just cannot contemplate limiting myself to one woman.”

  "I doubt you could, or that you would even try. Nevertheless, your need for an heir grows with every passing year. You also need an official mistress for Woburn, and only a legitimate wife can fulfill that role.”

  Francis sighed and drained his glass of claret. "A political alliance between the leading Whig duke and the daughter of the leading Whig hostess would no doubt fulfill society’s expectations.”

  "Good God, the Devonshires’ daughter is little more than a child. Francis, what can you be thinking?”

  "The young lady is making her debut soon. I’m invited to her coming-out ball at Devonshire House.”

  "That makes her eighteen at most,” John protested.

  "Wasn’t Elizabeth eighteen when you married her?”

  "Yes, but I was nineteen, not a middle-aged man of thirty-seven.”

  "For Christ’s sake, John! First you urge me to marry; then, when I agree to consider the matter, you throw obstacles in my path and do all you can to deter me.”

  John put up his hand. "I’m sorry, Francis. I have no right to interfere in your life. I just wanted to prod you into at least thinking about marriage. I will refrain from advising you on your choice of wife. God knows, my own marriage gives me no authority to set myself up as an example.”

  "No need to apologize to me, John. You have always been a steadying force in my life. Your resolve is like a rock.v He changed the subject. "Prinny is coming to Woburn for the races, as well as Prince Edward. I have a huge wager with Edward on each and every race. The foolish fellow is addicted to gambling.v

  John’s dark brows drew together, puzzled that Francis did not recognize his own obsession with gaming. Bite your tongue, John.

  "I fancy a long drive in the country this weekend. The autumn leaves will be spectacular.v Jane Gordon took it for granted that Georgina would fall in with her plans.

  "Where did you have in mind?” Georgina knew her mother seldom did anything without an ulterior motive.

  "Kimbolton, as a matter of fact. Your sister, the Duchess of Manchester, has a magnificent collection of Georgian silver that I wouldn’t mind borrowing for your coming-out ball.”

  "Surely all you need do is drop Susan a note, and she will bring whatever you fancy when she and William come for my presentation to Queen Charlotte.”

  "True enough, my dear. But Kimbolton has such treasures; I warrant I may see other things I could use to impress the haut ton who will be coming to our ball.”

  Georgina smiled her secret smile. There’s her ulterior motive.

  When the carriage stopped in the courtyard of the ancient Abbey of Saint Albans to water the horses, Georgina and her mother took the opportunity to stretch their legs.

  The Duchess of Gordon made a small, charitable donation to the Benedictine monks prior to climbing the famous tower. It gave them a spectacular view of the majestic Chiltern Hills that were garbed in their scarlet, orange, and yellow autumn finery.

  Georgina saw her mother’s eyes glisten with tears. "It reminds you of Scotland ... Try not to let it make you feel sad.”

  "I didn’t get to visit my beloved Kinrara this summer,v Jane said wistfully. "I missed seeing the woods filled with fawns.”

  "Your precious memories are etched forever in your heart and soul. You will enjoy it twice as much next summer.”

  "Yes, I shall be free as a bird by then ... if we get you happily married, of course.”

  I have no doubt you will do your damnedest to get me wed, Mother. How happy I will be, however, will depend upon my own determination and resolve.

  Before they departed, the ladies refreshed themselves with the famous ale brewed by the Benedictine monks. Jane allowed their coachman a large mug to quench his thirst before he climbed back up to his seat.

  Georgina removed her cloak because the late morning had warmed considerably since they’d left London, and sat back against the velvet squabs to admire the view. After a minute or two, she glanced at her mother. "He’s taken the wrong road, I think. The town of Baldock is north; then we go through Temps-ford before we reach Kimbolton Castle.”

  "It’s all right, Georgy. I told the driver my
change of plans.”

  "What change of plans?”

  "It suddenly occurred to me that this weekend is the Woburn races. Susan will most likely be accompanying Manchester to the great sporting event. It could be a complete waste of time to go to Kimbolton.”

  Suddenly occurred to you, my arse! I knew you had an ulterior motive, but didn’t guess how devious you could be. I’m not nearly as shrewd as I imagined.

  "How fortunate that the Woburn races will be chockablock with eligible bachelors, Georgina.”

  Not the least of which will be the lecherous Duke of Bedford. She opened her mouth to protest, then bethought that the dangerous devil, John Russell, would be there. Georgina suddenly decided to keep a wise silence.

  "Well, I’ll be damned,” George Gordon declared when he fell in beside his young sister as she trailed behind her mother, making a direct path to the Woburn racecourse. "The Whipper-in has already laid her plans for the fox hunt of the Season. How the devil did she get you to agree to come?”

  "She outfoxed me! Allegedly, Kimbolton was our destination. Her maneuvers are so bloody transparent, I am humiliated,” Georgina said with a blush.

  "Well, you and I know what she’s up to, but perhaps no one else will guess.”

  "They’re not idiots, George.” Georgina saw Prinny laughing with his brother Edward at the antics of a pet monkey dressed up as a jockey. "I am mistaken—they are idiots.”

  "She’s dangling the bait in front of Bedford, but I don’t think you’ll come to any harm with your mother, brother, and a pair of your brothers-in-law present. The bait looks delicious, by the way.”

  "I wore this outfit thinking I was going to Kimbolton Castle. It’s rather dramatic for a race meet.”

  "It’s decidedly racy,” he punned with a wink.

  "Father had this Black Watch kilt made for me in Edinburgh. It reveals my legs. I didn’t know I’d have an audience.”

  George laughed. "All the gentlemen will be praying for the wind to pick up.v

  "If it does, I shall simply put my cloak back on.” She returned his wink. "Or perhaps, on a whim, I won’t.”