Bertrice Small - The Duchess

"Do highwaymen strike in the daylight?" she demanded. "And why would they bother with a girl riding alone with no visible purse or jewelry? Your concern is unwarranted, I think."

"Highwaymen do attack in daylight," he assured her, "and as you are well dressed, alone, and riding a fine beast, a robber would consider you rather excellent prey. And after he had robbed you of your goods and chattels, he might have also sought to rob you of your virtue, Allegra. Did you consider that at all when you set out so capriciously? Even your father's wealth could not have bought you a duke for a husband had you been ruined in such a terrible fashion, my dear," he finished.

"You are horrible!" she cried, but the truth of his words had frightened her. She had not considered any misadventures when she had set out to come to Hunter's Lair. She had only contemplated her own boredom with life at Morgan Court. She flushed nervously.

"Well," the duke said, seeing his words had finally made an impression upon her, "come and see your apartments, Allegra. They are just about finished. You will have to choose your own furnishings from among the house's contents. You may very well want to purchase new items, and of course, you will need fabrics for curtains, drapes, and hangings. Still, my dear, if you wish to move in tonight, I can have a cot bed brought for you. Tomorrow, I will send one of my servants to your father to assure him that despite your willful misbehavior, you are quite safe with me, and to escort Honor back here. I certainly hope our daughters do not have your sense of adventure, Allegra."

"Perhaps we will have no daughters," she said pettishly.

"I hope we have at least one, and that she looks like you, my dear. I just don't want her to be as madcap."

"Where is your brother, George?" she asked, changing the subject. "I am to marry you in three months, and I have not met your closest living relation yet. Why didn't he come to London with you?"

"Because it was all I could do to afford to come to London myself. You will meet George when he comes in from the fields where he is overseeing the laborers. My little brother is a farmer at heart."

"Like the king," she said with a small smile. She was glad he was no longer angry with her.

"Like the king, but without his resources." The duke laughed.

"Perhaps we should buy him a farm," Allegra said seriously.

The duke laughed again. "Don't say such a thing to Georgie, or he will be your slave for life, my dear. He wants his own land more than anything else in this world. 1 thought that he might prefer a commission in his majesty's armies, or a pulpit in some small church, but he really wants land to farm. That and perhaps Squire Franklyn's youngest daughter, Melinda."

"Then he must have his own farm, for I know no father will give his daughter in marriage to a penniless man-unless, of course, he is a duke," she chuckled mischievously.

He laughed a third time, and this time most heartily. "You are really quite a vixen, my dear," he told her, but his tone was amused, and even perhaps a bit affectionate, Allegra thought. "Ahh," he said, "here is the subject of our discussion even now." He waved, calling, "Come over, George, and meet your about-to-be sister-in-law."

A somewhat younger version of Quinton Hunter rode up, sliding easily off his mount. While his brother's eyes were a silvery gray, George Hunter's were a light blue. He wore no jacket, and his shirt, open at the neck, offered her a view of his damp chest. "This is Miss Morgan?" he asked, smiling warmly at her. "Why, damn me, Quint, she is even prettier than you said, but then you have never been much for words unless it concerned your horses." He bowed to Allegra. "Your servant, Miss Morgan."

Allegra curtsied. "I am pleased to meet you, brother George," she told him. "I am afraid I have shocked your brother by appearing unannounced, but I think he is over his pique now."

"She rode the twenty miles unescorted," Quinton Hunter explained dryly to his younger brother.

"Did you? Well, damn me, Quint, she's a game gel. You won't always get your way with her, I can see that," he chuckled.

"Behave, youngster," his elder warned sternly. "Allegra has threatened to purchase a farm for you."

"She has?" George Hunter's look was one of astonishment. Then he said, "You are gulling me, Quint, and it isn't fair."

"No, he isn't," Allegra told the young man. "Have you some place in mind, George? What do the owners want for it? Is it good land? Arable, and well watered?"

"Do you mean it? Having my dream come true cannot be this easy, can it?"

"I am not your fairy godmother," Allegra said seriously to the young man. "If you have a farm in mind, George, I will purchase it for you, but you will only own a half interest until you pay me back for the other half. It is business, plain and simple. I provide the capital for this investment, and you provide everything else. Papa's lawyers will write up an agreement for us, if indeed you do agree."

"Yes!" he told her without hesitation.

"We shall have the lawyers do the negotiation, lest the price of your heart's desire be inflated when it is learned that the monies come from Lord Morgan's daughter. Now, have you any income other than what you will earn from your lands?"

"One hundred and thirty pounds a year from my grandmother," he said.

"Then, with lands to farm, and your income, you can certainly ask Squire Franklyn for his daughter's hand. It is unlikely, unless she is a great beauty, that she will receive a better offer," Allegra said sensibly. "We shall have two weddings in the family instead of one!" She turned to the duke. "Does that suit you, my lord?"

He was amazed at how she had just taken charge of everything, and rendered all of their lives smooth and trouble free. "I am no longer fearful that you rode here unescorted, Allegra," he said to her. "Any highwayman who accosted you would have found he had met his match, for your wits are far sharper than any weapon a robber could carry." Yet despite his flattering words he could not help but wonder if her no-nonsense ways were suitable behavior for a Duchess of Sedgwick.

Allegra smiled. It was a well-satisfied smile. "Thank you," she answered him simply. She had, she believed, in these past few minutes gained his respect. That respect meant far more to her than any cloying sentiment of love would have meant. Yes, it had been a most successful London season, and it would be a most successful marriage as well.

Quinton Hunter sat alone of an evening in the small room that served him as a personal billet, and from which he conducted the business of his estate. It held an ancient desk and a rather battered tapestried chair. There was a double leaded pane casement window to his right, a paneled door to his left, and a fireplace before him with narrow bookcases built in on either side of the stone hearth. The fire blazed merrily, taking the damp chill off the July evening. The house was quiet now. The workmen had gone for the day. His betrothed wife and her saucy maid were upstairs in the duchess's new apartments. Honor had arrived two days after her mistress, sitting atop a cart that was filled to overflowing with some of Allegra's belongings. The rest, the duke was told, would follow. And they had. He had not thought such a young girl could have so many possessions.

The duke's thoughts were troubled. He knew he had to marry. He knew he needed a rich wife. He was committed to marrying Allegra Morgan, and yet now he was questioning the wisdom in that decision. She wasn't at all the sort of girl he felt would make a suitable Duchess of Sedgwick. The women before her had been deferential young ladies, yielding to the wishes of their lords even when those gentlemen were patently wrong. Allegra, he already knew, was not such a lady. What kind of a duchess would she make him? Perhaps it would have been better to have not married at all. To have allowed his proud line to die with him, and with his younger brother, George.