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,
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.
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.
