***

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, mon ange," he began effusively, and then stopped, surprised.

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. "Where is Calandra?" he gasped. "What have you done with her?"

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.

"And you married Aurora?" Now even the unshockable Lord Trahern was shocked. "When?"

"On the fourth of November," Hawkesworth replied calmly.

" 'Pon my soul, Hawkesworth," Lord Trahern exclaimed, "You have scandalized even me! Something I surely never expected you to do. Granted, neither you nor Calandra had any real feeling for one another, but that is not so unusual in a marriage between people of our rank. Yet your wife is not even cold in her grave when you turn about and marry her sister? 'Tis shocking! Simply shocking!" Trahern gulped down his whiskey and held the crystal tumbler out to be refilled.

Aurora arose from her place by his side and walked across the room to fetch the decanter back to where their guest sat, almost sprawled with his trauma upon the settee. "Are you going to have an attack of the vapors, Trahern?" she asked him, amused, as she poured the smoky liquor into the crystal. "Oh, do explain, Valerian, or our reputations will be ruined in polite society." She placed the decanter on a side table and rejoined the gentlemen.

"It is really all quite simple, Trahern," the duke began. "Calandra was not the heiress to St. Timothy. She was not born a Kimberly, but, rather, a Spencer. She was Robert Kimberly's stepdaughter, but she wanted to be a duchess, and Aurora, who is the true heiress, did not. Since both girls bore the identical first name, Charlotte, they decided to switch identities. After all, Calandra lived practically her entire life upon St. Timothy. It was not difficult even for her."

"You did not wish to be a duchess?" Poor Lord Trahern was astonished with his disbelief. What girl wouldn't want to be a duchess?

"Actually," Aurora elucidated, "I didn't wish to marry a stranger. If Valerian had come to St. Timothy and courted me, it might have been different." She turned and smiled at her husband.

"Of course it would have been different," he replied, returning her smile. "The minx didn't even give me a chance. So believing that Calandra was my bride, I married her, with even as you will admit, Trahern, disastrous results. Calandra loved my wealth and my position and all the things it entailed. She did not, however, love me."

"She didn't have to," Trahern interrupted, "as long as she produced an heir or two for you, Hawkesworth. How many wives actually love their husbands? Oh, some may, and others may harbor an affection for their mates, but most women of our class dislike their husbands intensely. We marry for land and power, not love. It is a wife's duty to give her husband children, preferably his children. Only then is she free to pursue her own pleasures. How on earth did you find out the deception that had been played upon you?"

The duke explained.

"But why the scandalous haste to remarry?" Lord Trahern asked when the duke had concluded his account. "Aurora was in your charge as long as she remained in England. Did you think she would flee you?"

The duke chuckled. "She tried to," he replied. "But of more importance was her engagement to my cousin, St. John. She was so pigheaded that she was determined she was wildly in love with him, and would marry him, and no one else."

"Well, I do harbor an affection for St. John," Aurora answered mischievously. "He has great charm, Trahern. Have you ever met him? I do believe that you would do quite well together. He may be coming up to London, wife hunting. No title, of course, but he is outrageously wealthy with a magnificent estate. I do believe I shall put him in your charge. Would you do me that favor?"

" 'Pon my soul!" Lord Trahern exclaimed.

"Well, Valerian and St. John have this ridiculous rivalry, and have had, so the dowager tells me, since they were boys. I do not think my husband will be content until St. John has his own wife, Trahern, and I know absolutely no one in London other than yourself. You do know everyone of importance, my lord," Aurora flattered him.

"A truth, a truth," Trahern admitted dryly, and then, "So, Hawkesworth, you married Aurora to prevent her running off with your cousin, and thereby cheating you of St. Timothy. An outrageous explanation, but perfectly reasonable under the circumstances. Since neither of you really likes London, I suppose you have come up from the country to ride out the scandal your actions have caused. 'Twas wise of you."

"Oh, Trahern!" Aurora said enthusiastically. "I am so glad you understand, and will aid us! Cally was right. You really are a fine fellow. I know your friendship meant much to her, my poor sister."

"Did it?" Trahern's voice quavered a moment. "She was such a beautiful girl. She had style and she had elegance. I believe she could have been one of London's most famous hostesses, given the opportunity."

"Oh, yes," Aurora agreed with him. "Cally was socially clever."

"Indeed!" Trahern assented. Then he turned to the duke. "Have you the aegis to meet their majesties? The queen is delightful. Ingenuous, and perhaps a trifle unsophisticated for my taste, but the king adores her. She is quite to his taste, I fear, and one must step carefully these days at court. Unlike the previous two reigns, morality rules."

"The Earl of Bute has arranged our introduction," the duke responded.

"Bute? Well,well, Hawkesworth, you surprise me. Bute is quite the closest to the king other than the queen. How on earth do you know Bute? He's no insider, and quite disliked by the Whigs, although the Tories will side with him even if they like him no better."

"His mother and my grandmother knew each other," the duke answered Lord Trahern. "I sold him some breeding stock a few years ago, and have some small acquaintance with him, but it was really my grandmother's connection that made the arrangement," Valerian admitted.

Lord Trahern nodded. "One uses what one can to get ahead socially," he said, "but don't rely on Bute for too much. It is unlikely he will be around in any capacity of power for very long." Setting his empty crystal tumbler down, he arose. "I really must be going," he told them. "I am meeting friends at Boodles."

"Boodles?" The duke cocked his head curiously.

"A new club," Trahern said. " 'Tis over in St. James's Street. The food is quite good and the gaming great sport. You must have a membership if you are going to remain in London for even a short time, Hawkesworth. I shall sponsor you myself. There are quite a number of country gentlemen like yourself who belong." He picked up his tricorn and settled it on his head.