The activity in Grosvenor Square lessened and then ceased – the house was plainly finished – and the inhabitants of the square found all sorts of excellent reasons to pass by it and linger ingenuously near it on a daily basis, in the hopes that they would happen to be present when the residents arrived.
In fact, a pair of sisters living a few doors down from the ducal residence were one afternoon lucky enough to see an elegant black and silver travelling coach draw up outside the mansion, and immediately with great presence of mind concealed themselves, along with their accompanying maid, in the shrubbery of the square’s garden to observe its occupants as they alighted. This was unladylike behaviour, but their mama later conceded that in their shoes she would have been sorely tempted to do the same. And the results of their subterfuge were all that could have been hoped for.
The carriage steps were let down by the waiting footmen, and a gentleman got down, then turned to assist someoneinside the carriage. He was undoubtedly very tall, well-dressed and handsome, but he did not – at that precise moment – show any obvious signs of wickedness. The younger lady, an impressionable damsel of only sixteen summers, had half-expected him to be of a reddish complexion, sporting horns and a tail, and this was rather disappointingly not the case. A lady emerged from the coach and put her hand in his; she was of medium height and elegant figure, very stylishly dressed in a travelling pelisse of blue trimmed with silver braid, and she looked about her with bright interest as she alighted.
Georgie – for it was she – murmured, ‘Is it usual for there to be people watching us from concealment in the bushes, Gabriel? It seems most odd. And I feel – perhaps I am mistaken, but I do not think so – that there are many eyes on us, observing our arrival from the windows that overlook the square.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ her husband said, with the wicked glint in his eye that she had come to recognise. ‘I showed you Blanche’s letter; I dare say she did not exaggerate the extent of the gossip that our marriage has created. Shall we give them something to talk about, my love?’
As he spoke, he took her in his arms and commenced kissing her ruthlessly, and when her lips responded eagerly to his and her arms came up about his neck, he picked her up and carried her up the steps and into the house, leaving the astonished footmen to scramble after them with a sad loss of dignity.
‘Well!’ said the elder of the young ladies who had been witness to this thrilling spectacle with great satisfaction. ‘Just wait till we tell Mama! She will be mad as fire that she missed such a shocking sight!’
45
The news spread like wildfire: the Silver Duke and his bride had arrived in Town. Anyone who was even remotely acquainted with Lady Georgiana – with the new Duchess, as one must learn to call her – and many persons who were not, called and left cards in Grosvenor Square. She was a bride, of the highest rank outside royalty, and as such was clearly owed every civil attention. Bride-visits were paid, and ladies who had been fortunate enough to find her at home were interrogated by those who had not. How did she look? She looked ridiculously happy, it was generally agreed. Mesmerised? Not in any obvious fashion. Did she have the appearance of a young lady who had been caught in the most intimate of acts by half the nobility of the North of England? One lady who had called on the Duchess and found her devoted husband at her side at the time of her visit said thoughtfully that she did in fact present very much that appearance, and furthermore did not seem to regret it in the least.
The truth of this assertion soon became apparent when the couple held a ball to celebrate their marriage – surely the most coveted invitation of the autumn. It was understood that theDuke and Duchess would commence the dancing together, and that the first dance would be a waltz.
Northriding was immaculate in evening black, with a waistcoat of white and silver, but he was a mere foil for the magnificence of his wife. Her gown was simple white satin, but any adornments of embroidery or beading would have been superfluous, since she wore for the first time the Mauleverer diamonds, a spectacular necklace that extended from her throat to her decolletage and flashed fire with every tiny movement of her body. She also sported a curious rosette on her breast, an unusual, richly jewelled order fashioned from enamelled gold and set on coloured silk. It had been presented to her, to her enormous embarrassment, that very day, when she and her husband had been summoned to Carlton House at the behest of the Regent.
Like so many epically selfish persons, the Regent was a pathetic sentimentalist, and the news of the Duchess’s heroic self-sacrifice had affected him very deeply. (No lady had so far felt prompted to risk death for his sake, although there was of course still time and he had not yet given up hope.) Finding that there existed no official means that he considered appropriate to reward a noble lady for heroism, he had invented one, commissioned Messrs Rundell and Bridge to realise his design at enormous cost, and presented it to Georgie in a simple but touching ceremony. One of his rare flashes of good taste had fortunately prompted the generous prince to delegate the task of affixing the decoration to the lady’s bodice to the Duke rather than undertaking it himself. Since His Royal Highness had graciously intimated his intention to attend the Northridings’ party (despite not being invited), Georgie had thought it prudent to wear the garish thing this evening. The thought of what her irreverent younger brothers would say when they heard of it was something she resolutely pushed from her mind. This was easyenough, in all truth, when she found herself in Gabriel’s arms and saw him smiling down at her.
Though there was nothing obviously incorrect in the way the ducal pair held each other and moved through the steps of the waltz, still there was something about their intent focus on each other, the way their eyes, blue and silver, locked and held, the instinctive physical and mental harmony in which they glided across the floor, that created a powerful impression on many of those watching. Those old-fashioned persons who still thought the new-fangled foreign steps indecent – and particularly the extended embrace which was the novel feature of the dance – were observed to turn to their companions and say, ‘Do you see what I mean now? Most improper!’, although if they were challenged as to what precisely was improper about it, they found themselves unable to say.
Lady Carston, another bride, was resolute in her decision not to take to the floor, and since she was several inches taller than all but four or five of the gentlemen present, including her own husband, her refusal was perhaps understandable. That she would have liked nothing better than to waltz with the person of her heart – but that her choice of partner was not permissible in the prevailing social circumstances – was not something she was able to share with most of her fellow guests. And so she stood and watched with Louisa as the Duke and Duchess owned the dancefloor, and they shared a little secret smile. They owed Northriding and Georgie a substantial favour, they were well aware, for the furore around their marriage and the startling events that followed it had quite eclipsed any interest that malicious persons might otherwise have shown in the recent and very quietly celebrated union of Lord Carston and the authoress Miss Spry.
‘Perhaps when you are ready to let it be known that you are in an interesting condition, love, we can arrange for someone elseto attempt to put a period to Northriding’s life,’ said Louisa, in a dry tone meant only for Jane’s ears.
‘That would be most convenient,’ agreed her companion, with a perfectly straight face, ‘as long as your niece performs no more heroics. I am convinced that Northriding’s hair will go completely white if she gives him another such fright.’
The dance came to an end, and the Duchess swept the Duke a magnificent curtsey. He bent low over her gloved hand and kissed it in a manner that was either heart-stoppingly romantic or disgracefully indecorous, depending on one’s point of view.
Much later, Gabriel lay with his head cradled on his wife’s breast, and she stroked his black and silver hair. Outside, the autumn dawn was breaking in smoky red and gold over the rooftops of London. They had not slept. ‘My love,’ she said, ‘I have been thinking…’
‘That sounds promising.’
‘Yes, I think you will agree that it is. I was remembering that you threatened – or perhaps promised – when we were so memorably together in that house to lay me down and spank me.’
‘I did. And you asked me then if I thought you might enjoy it.’
‘And ifyoumight, Gabriel, don’t forget.’
‘I am of the opinion that we both might.’
‘And I am of the opinion that you may be right.’
He took her hand and pressed his lips to it, and said, ‘I wonder, while we are on the subject of our first meeting, do you still have that red suit, Georgie? I will never forget my first sight of you, and how you intrigued me and drew me from my purpose, and changed my life for ever. You might wear that once more, and this time I could undress you very slowly and completely, as I so longed to do last time you wore it.’
‘No, I do not have it, or you would have seen me in it long before now, I swear. But I know exactly where it is kept. I will ask Cassandra for it, and I am sure she will let me have it.’
‘And understand exactly why you want it, I dare say? You Pendleburys really are extraordinary people, my love.’
‘We are. And what’s even better, we marry extraordinary people too.’
‘I cannot disagree with that!’ the Duke said, kissing one rosy nipple.
Georgie smiled and stretched languorously. ‘Jane – Lady Carston – told me this evening that she is in an interesting condition already. She is so very happy.’
