The Decadent Duke Page 8

  “Go on, then. We’ll be along shortly. Keep your eye on John.”

  “I thought I’d find you at Russell Square. What happened?”

  “Elizabeth grew agitated in London, so on the recommendation of the doctor I leased a house in Dorset Fields.”

  “Did it help the situation?”

  “No, not really. The physician confirmed her melancholia and said she looked consumptive.”

  “Well, there you are. Perhaps that is the root of what ails her.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. She looks like a bloody angel, but I assure you she is anything but.”

  “Then you don’t think it’s consumption?” Francis asked.

  “It’s laudanum. She’s addicted to the filthy stuff!”

  “So she suffers from the blue devils? I’m so sorry, John. Opium eats the brain, you know.”

  “What can I do? If I asked her sisters to come and spend time with her, they would learn her secret. They are so straitlaced, it would shock them out of their minds. You’re the only one I can be frank with. I’ve had to employ a nurse for Elizabeth’s own well-being while I’m away.”

  Francis poured two brandies and handed one to his brother. “If she’s not too far gone, abstinence is the only answer. You’ll be able to keep a vigilant watch while you’re home for the summer, but what about when parliament opens?”

  “Exactly,” John said, gazing over the rim of his glass.

  “Keep her off the stuff for a month, and when you have to go back to work, send her to Bath to take the medicinal waters. Many ladies go to Bath for one cure or another. Both her sisters have beautiful homes near there. Elizabeth should stay at Longleat; it might bring her out of her melancholia. Let the Marchioness of Bath take some of the responsibility off your shoulders. What if she is shocked? Do you really give a goddamn?”

  “Not really. It will be a miracle if Isabelle can put up with her deep depression and dark portents. I’ve had it up to my bloody epiglottis, and my gorge is rising.” John finished his brandy.

  “Grandmama was deadset against your marrying her.”

  “Yes, I know, but in my youthful ignorance I thought I was madly in love. Marriage certainly cured me of believing in anything so ridiculous as love. If it exists at all, which I gravely doubt, it is deceptively fleeting.”

  “If only you’d listened to the domineering old girl and not gotten Elizabeth with child,” Francis reminded him.

  “Well, I can never regret my sons, Francis. Becoming a father was the best thing that ever happened to me. Unfortunately, after Johnny was born, Elizabeth became mentally afflicted with melancholia. Sometimes I fear she is going mad.”

  “Though I don’t covet your wife, I do envy you your sons.”

  “You mean you covet legitimate sons.”

  “Exactly. I have bastards aplenty. But the beauty of by-blows is that you are not married to their mothers.”

  “How can I argue with such faultless logic?”

  “Have another brandy.”

  “I think we’d better go to the stables and check on your nephews’ antics. Brothers can get up to all sorts of trouble, if you remember.”

  By the time they got to the stables, both Francis and William had chosen mounts for themselves and were eager to try them out in Woburn’s park. Their uncle directed the grooms to bring the horses from their stalls, but the brothers saddled up themselves.

  Johnny was stroking a stable cat. “Don’t you have any ponies, Uncle Francis?”

  “I’m afraid not. Let’s find you a suitable colt.”

  Johnny glanced at his father uncertainly.

  John experienced a moment of doubt. What of Elizabeth’s dark premonition? My father did lose his life

  when he was thrown from a horse. John ruthlessly thrust aside his fear for his son. Life involved risks every day. “I’m sure Francis has a palfrey you can handle. How about Grey Lady over there?”

  VA most mannerly creature. Let’s get her saddled up, and you can give her a trot round the park. If you can handle her, we’ll all go for a hunt tomorrow. Woburn has three thousand acres.”

  “No promises,” John said firmly. “First things first.”

  As it turned out, Johnny was able to handle the docile Grey Lady with confidence, and his father was proud of him. After some persistent persuasion from his sons, John finally agreed to a hunt the following afternoon.

  The three brothers spent the rest of the day happily mucking about with the farm animals. Woburn had cattle, oxen, sheep, pigs, goats, geese, game birds, and a herd of domesticated deer. Its large kennels had foxhounds for hunting and some greyhounds.

  That night, after his sons went to bed, John and Francis sat sipping brandy before the fire in the large, comfortable Woburn library. “I want to thank you for giving the lads such a happy day. Because of their mother’s melancholy condition, their holidays haven’t been much fun so far.”

  “Boys their age need freedom to laugh, and shout, and fight, and generally horse about, like you and I did.”

  “We went to a cricket match at Lord’s last week. Charles Lennox was playing, and he invited us to spend a day at Marylebone Manor with his family. Their eldest son is close to Johnny’s age. In fact, that’s where I bought the horse for young Francis.”

  “Lennox married Lady Charlotte Gordon. By God, there’s a family for you! The Duchess of Gordon is nicknamed ’the whipper in.’ She’s absolutely shameless in the pursuit of ducal husbands for her daughters. She was after me for Louisa, but caught Charlie Cornwallis instead. I recently attended their wedding.”

  “You managed to escape the Gordon knot.”

  VMind you, the youngest daughter, Lady Georgina, is a vivacious beauty. I’ve got my eye on that one . . . tempting as bloody sin!”

  A picture of Georgina appeared full blown in John’s mind. He was shocked at his brother’s words. Francis had always been attracted to older, experienced women, like Lizzie Melbourne. John had often thought it was because he sought out mother figures. “I have met the lady. She is extremely young.” His tone was forbidding.

  “She’s a little saucebox. At the wedding I asked Huntly for an introduction to the lovely goddess he was keeping to himself. He told me she was his sister and strictly off-limits to me, and wasn’t even out yet. Georgina gave me a teasing smile and promised: When I do come out, I shall be delighted to make your acquaintance. She was obviously attracted to me.”

  John’s imagination allowed him to hear her saucy words clearly. “She’s extremely young,” he repeated.

  “Young or not, she won’t be off-limits once she comes out. A hundred guineas says I’ll bed the little hellcat.”

  “Damn you, Francis, I won’t wager with you about bedding a virgin. Whatever gives you the remotest idea that you can accomplish such a shameful thing?”

  “I managed to bed Louisa Gordon,” he said with a leer. “Next on the agenda is Lady Georgina. She’s got a delicious pair of dolly-knockers, old man.”

  Old man! That’s what Georgina called me. John got to his feet abruptly. “I think I’ll call it a day. Good night, Francis.”

  As John Russell disrobed, he was gripped by a cold anger. Because they had lost both their parents by the time John was three, the brothers had formed a special bond of unusual strength.

  Francis led the promiscuous life of a bachelor, and John had never condemned him for the numerous mistresses he kept. Each one seemed to fulfill a different need in his brother, and John had always excused him for his sexual excesses.

  When Francis returned from his grand tour, he’d traveled from Paris with Lord and Lady Maynard and lived in a ménage a trois with the couple for many years. The older woman had a notorious past, although she was well educated.

  Nancy Maynard’s appeal was more than physical. She taught him to appreciate literature and poetry, and as a result Francis can recite Ovid by heart. The thought of his brother reciting Ovid to Georgina Gordon only fueled John’s anger.

  N
aked, he paced across to the window and gazed with unseeing eyes into the dark night. Why the devil does Francis’s prurient interest in Georgina Gordon infuriate me? The young woman means absolutely nothing to me. In spite of what he told himself, the fact remained that he was incensed over his brother’s attempted wager to bed the lady. I would be offended no matter who the female was, if she were young and innocent. An inner voice nagged: Are you sure, old man?

  Francis acknowledges his bastards without qualm. As well as one with Lizzie Melbourne, he has two with Mrs. Marianna Palmer, his current mistress, who entertains him when he is in London.

  Illegitimate children are commonplace with the beau monde, from the Prince of Wales down to those of the lowest noble rank. It’s almost considered fashionable, for Christ’s sake. I have always turned a blind eye to my brother’s peccadilloes. Why do I suddenly find it bloody reprehensible?

  John knew the answer. Lady Georgina Gordon. The little beauty might be high-spirited and saucy in the extreme, but she was a young innocent girl who deserved to be protected from the debauchery of an older man who was a premier duke of the realm. There was nothing noble about his brother’s intentions, and tomorrow he would tell him so.

  A movement outside caught John’s attention. A nerve ticked in his jaw as he watched Francis leave the house and follow a path that would take him to the cottage of Molly Hill. His vivid imagination pictured Francis, complete with riding crop, enjoying a lusty sexual gallop with his horse-faced harridan. Tallyho!

  That night, John’s sleep was fitful to say the least, but finally after tossing and turning for hours, he drifted into a dream. He was alone, riding through the forest on a warm summer day. He felt free and alive and amazingly tranquil. Then, suddenly, he heard a cry of distress and, thinking it was an animal caught in a trap, he began a search to track it down. The hunt took him deeper into the forest, where the trees grew closer together, making it difficult for his horse. He was relieved when a clearing opened up before him, but his relief was short-lived.

  The cries of distress were not from an animal; they were from a young girl who was being ravished by a man. She was fighting him wildly, but was no match for the powerful male. In a flash, John dismounted, grabbed the man, and smashed him in the jaw. To his horror he saw that the raptor was his brother, Francis, and in cold anger, he gave him a brutal thrashing.

  When his brother fled, he turned to the young girl, and his heart constricted as he recognized Lady Georgina Gordon. He quickly stripped off his shirt and covered the naked beauty.

  Georgina flung the shirt away. “Go to the devil, old man!’’

  John stared, mesmerized by her slim legs, tiny waist, and lush breasts. Hot desire rose up in him, and he had no inclination to control his hungry craving to possess the tempting beauty. His dark eyes licked over her creamy flesh like a candle flame.

  “Your sister informed me that you were ready for mischievous fun and games at the drop of a hat. I intend to put it to the test, little girl.”

  The tip of her tantalizing tongue touched her lips in a provocative gesture. “Nature provides the perfect setting for all sorts of exciting fun and games.”

  “I hereby warn you that I intend to make love to you.’’

  She tossed her saucy curls and challenged, ”You will be fighting an uphill battle.’’

  “I have the temperament for it.’’

  Georgina smiled into his eyes. “I have no doubt of it.’’

  John closed the distance between them and took the exquisite beauty into his arms. Just as he took possession of her sinfully tempting lips, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to stare into the face of his brother, Francis.

  My God, our roles are suddenly reversed. John stiffened, bracing himself for his brother’s fist to smash him in the jaw.

  To his amazement, Francis did not hit him. Instead he handed him a hundred guineas. “I lose. You win the wager, old man!’’

  John woke up in a sweat. It was a few minutes before he realized he was not in the woods, but in bed at Woburn. He was relieved that the episode was not real. It was only a dream. And yet he pondered why on earth he had dreamed such a thing. The part where he had smashed Francis in the jaw for his attempted ravishment of Georgina Gordon was explained easily enough. He had gone to bed angry with his brother for his prurient interest in the girl. What baffled him was his own seduction of Georgina.

  He put it down to the sexual drought he had endured for the past nine years. Perhaps unconsciously his physical needs had been transferred to his dream. That still doesn’t explain why Lady Georgina Gordon was the object of my desire. She is more child than woman. I’m fifteen years older than the girl. John grimaced. That’s why she calls me old man.

  Until nine years ago, John Russell had been a faithful husband. Since then, though he’d had an occasional slip, he had never taken a mistress. His friendship with Lady Sandwich had resulted in an intimate interlude upon rare occasions, but what he felt for widowed Lady Anne was affection and respect, rather than any deep-rooted passion.

  Because of his own lapse of infidelity, he had never condemned his brother’s multiple liaisons. Francis belonged to the inner circle of the Prince of Wales, and loose morals ran rampant in that crowd. Now, however, John felt disgust at his brother’s lecherous interest in young unwed girls. When Francis revealed that he had bedded Lady Louisa Gordon, John had been thoroughly shocked. A picture of Louisa and Georgina Gordon flashed into his mind. The Gordon daughters have been brought up in a most unconventional manner. Perhaps Jane Gordon has urged them to go to any lengths to trap wealthy, noble husbands. Perhaps the little honeypots have been taught that beauty and promiscuity are an irresistible combination. The thought angered him further.

  The following morning, after breakfast, John made a suggestion. “Why don’t we have a game of tennis on that grand indoor court of yours, Francis? A game of doubles will be good practice for the boys.”

  “I’m glad you suggested it, John. My namesake and I will take on you and William. What do you say, Francis?”

  “That sounds jolly good, sir, if you have the patience to play with a rank amateur.”

  “Your youthful vigor will make up for your lack of expertise.”

  They all went along to the indoor tennis court, and Johnny offered to retrieve the balls. They tossed a coin for first serve, which Francis lost.

  John smiled with anticipation and allowed his fierce anger full rein. With little help from his partner, he had Francis gasping for breath as he desperately tried to return the ball, and John trounced his brother badly. The battle was fought and won quickly; he beat Francis by sheer dint of will and fury.

  “When the devil did you become so good at the game?” Francis demanded. “I’m glad we didn’t have a wager on the outcome.”

  “Since you like fun and games and enjoy wagers so much, let’s have a hundred guineas on another match. It’ll give you a sporting chance to redeem yourself.”

  “Well, if I can take William for my partner this time.”

  “Done!” John was chafing at the bit. Ordinarily, he was no match for Francis, but today he felt an insatiable need to beat the devil out of him. Even if it was only symbolic.

  By the time the match was over, Francis had had the wind knocked out of him and was pressing his hand to a tender spot in his belly that had plagued him on and off since boyhood.

  “Are you all right?” John asked with concern. “Bloody hernia popped out. I’d have trounced you soundly otherwise.”

  It took the pleasure from John’s victory. His brother could not bear to lose and always had a ready excuse. He felt most of his anger against Francis melt away. Most, but not all, he realized, and decided to tell him bluntly that his dishonorable intensions toward Lady Georgina were not only shameless, they were unacceptable.

  Chapter 7

  Georgina stood patiently while the fashionable modiste fitted her for the court gown she would wear when she was presented to Queen Charlotte
.

  “It must be kept simple,” the Duchess of Gordon stressed.

  “White is most flattering for Lady Georgina because of her lovely coloring,” Madame Chloe said truthfully.

  “Yes, I quite agree. Some of the other debutantes, one in particular who shall remain nameless, will look gauche and washed out in a plain white gown.”

  Before her mother divulged she was speaking about the Duchess of Devonshire’s daughter, Georgina said, “I would prefer a little decoration . . . perhaps a lace edging around the sleeves and a white rose at the high waistline, beneath my breasts.”

  “Ah yes,” her mother agreed, “a flower just coming into bloom.”

  Georgina’s eyes sparkled with mirth, but she managed to keep from laughing out loud.

  “How soon can the gown be ready, Madame Chloe?”

  “I have orders for so many court gowns,” the modiste said vaguely.

  “But surely you will put the Gordons at the head of your list?”

  “Mother, there is lots of time.”

  “Indeed there is not. You are to have your portrait painted in the gown before you are presented to Queen Charlotte. This is one of the most important occasions of your entire life, Georgina. I have only one daughter left to launch into society. We have saved the best for last. We must plan down to the finest detail. You must start working on your guest list immediately.”

  “Guest list?”

  “For your coming-out ball, Georgina. Since it will be one of the most eagerly awaited debutante events of the winter season, we must make it a very grand affair.”

  Lud, I shall be paraded before an endless line of prospective husbands so that Mother can maintain her reputation as the most accomplished matchmaker in London.

  Georgina felt as if a trap were closing in on her and the need for escape rose up and made her short of breath. A plan ran through her head like quicksilver. “Perhaps you could have the gown ready by Friday, since Mother has already arranged for me to sit for my portrait next week.”