“Yes, Duchess,” he said, and then taking her hand in his, he finally fell asleep.
PartThree
Winter and Spring 1796
A Dangerous Game
Chapter Thirteen
The day had arrived for Allegra’sat homereception. Not one of the two thousand invitations that had been sent out had been refused. Allegra was relieved that it was midwinter, for if it had been the height of the season, she might have had double or triple the acceptances. People were expected to come, remain for fifteen minutes, no more, and leave their cards if they could not personally manage to greet the duke and the duchess, which most would not. Since no refreshments or music would be required, there would be little preparation except for the tall footed columns with their urns of flowers scattered about the gracious foyer and public rooms. Roses and sweetstock, lilies, tulips, narcissus, iris, and daffodils, all brought up from Lord Morgan’s greenhouses in the country. The arrangements were lush and colorful.
The Earl and Countess of Aston, in the company of Lord and Lady Walworth, had arrived early. Quinton Hunter was recovered from his chill, which had required several days of intense nursing on his wife’s part to resolve. And during that time they had remained in the house, keeping to themselves while their meals were brought to them.
“Will you be well enough for the theatre this evening?” Marcus Bainbridge, the Earl of Aston, asked his old friend.
“We were beginning to be seriously worried,” Adrian, Lord Walworth said. “I’ve never in all the years of our friendship known you to be sick more than overnight, Quint.”
“Allegra took wonderful care of me,” the duke said with a smile in his wife’s direction, and a wink to his friends.
“Why you devil,” the earl chuckled. “Just how sick were you?”
“Not very,” Quinton Hunter said, “but Allegra was so enjoying nursing me, I hated to spoil her fun.”
“Or your own,” Lord Walworth replied with a grin.
Allegra had taken a great deal of care with her gown today. She knew her appearance and the house would be the focus of the gossip that would follow her reception. Her gown was relatively simple as this was an afternoon gathering, but rather than the usual white, Allegra had decided to be both bold and original. The bodice of her dress was gathered, and of pale lilac silk brocade. Its neckline was most fashionably low, and edged with a teasing lace ruffle. The silk sleeves had pale lace oversleeves dyed to match the bodice. The bouffant skirt was of lilac and cream striped silk. Its hemline was just off the ground. The waist of the gown was short, and tied with a deep violet velvet sash. Her low-sided violet silk slippers had small jeweled bows on each toe. Her hair, which had been piled upon her head, was a mass of mahogany ringlets decorated with bejeweled cream-colored bows. She wore pearls in her ears, and her wedding pearls with its diamond heart lying upon her chest, its tip pointing to her décolletage.
The duke wore gray pantaloons to the knee with snow-white stockings. His shoes were black and had silver buckles. His coat was dove gray, his shirt and stock white. His black hair was cut short. A quizzing glass hung from a narrow gold chain about his neck.
Allegra had hoped that the guests would arrive slowly, but everyone was so anxious to meet the Duchess of Sedgwick that it would seem they all came exactly at the hour of three o’clock. Berkley Square was filled with carriages that circled about it dropping off their passengers, and then continuing to circle until they could be picked up again. This made it difficult for more carriages to get into the square, and some of the guests exited their vehicles and walked, only to have to wait in line to get into the house.
The duke and duchess, seated in the main drawing room of the house, greeted those guests who could reach them. Mr. Brummell casually pushed his way past the line of guests snaking up the wide staircase of Morgan House, and entered the salon.
“Duke,” he said, greeting Quinton Hunter, and then he turned to Allegra. “My dear duchess, you are a succès fou once again. You know how much I both admire and appreciate originality. Your gown is a triumph! I am pleased to see you make your own fashion rather than stooping to the bad taste of others.” He bowed to her, and kissed her hand.
“As do you, Mr. Brummell. You have a new haircut, I see. It is deliciously becoming. What is it called?” Allegra asked him.
“À la Brummell,”he replied dryly. “Do you really like it? It isn’t too short?”
“For someone else, perhaps, but not for you. You have such an elegant head, Mr. Brummell,” Allegra told him.
“And here in England it will remain upon my shoulders,” he chortled. “Good day, Duchess.” He bowed again, and then moved off.
“He has such exquisite manners,” Allegra murmured to her husband.
“He is a fop,” Quinton growled back. “And I didn’t like his hairdo. I will admit, however, black evening clothes are damned smart.”
“We won’t have to worry once we are back in the country,” she reminded him with a small smile.
It was well past six o’clock in the evening when the doors to Morgan House were closed to visitors.
“Let us not go to the theatre tonight,” Allegra pleaded with her friends. “We can go tomorrow night. Besides, the curtain has already risen anyway. I hate to miss the opening.”
“Only if you agree to give us a decent tea,” the Countess of Aston said, and she sat back upon a silk settee, kicking her slippers off.
“Marker,” Allegra called. “Tea.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the butler answered as he hurried off.
