"What a horrid fate!" Caroline said.

"I heard they betrayed the king," Eunice replied. "They deserved it if that was the case."

"In Anne Boleyn's case the charges were probably trumped up as the king had an eye out for his next wife, Queen Jane, who mothered his son. Poor Anne miscarried two sons and only produced her daughter, Elizabeth, who, of course, went on to become England's greatest queen."

"What about the other wife?" Eunice asked.

"Catherine Howard was Anne Boleyn's cousin. She wasn't very smart, and was, so I have read, a trollop who was no better than she ought to be. The king adored her, which made her betrayal of him with a lover all the worse to stomach. In fact, he didn't."

"You are quite learned," Caroline said. "How is it you are so well educated when most of us are not?"

"I studied with my brother and his tutor," Allegra explained. "Then when James Lucian went off to school, Papa allowed the tutor to remain to teach me even more."

"Wasn't it rather dull?" Eunice inquired.

"Not at all," Allegra assured her. "I liked it. A woman should really know more than how to paint pretty watercolors and play the piano while she sings. If I had not married Quinton I should have been quite capable of carrying on my own life without a husband."

"You are very brave," Caroline said. "Far braver than I am, I will admit it honestly. I am so glad that Dree and I suit. I should not like to be without a husband."

"Nor I," Eunice noted. "I adore my Marcus, and it is quite a great deal of fun to be the Countess of Aston. Don't you like being the Duchess of Sedgwick, Allegra?"

"I like it quite well," Allegra said, "but if Quinton and I had not made a match of it, I should not weep and wail." A gust of icy wind off the river blew her fur-trimmed hood back, and Allegra shivered. "Let us go home, and have tea," she suggested. "We are going to the theatre tonight."

"I wish it were warm enough to visit Vauxhall," Caroline said as they hurried from the Tower of London to their waiting coach.

"Probably next month before we go," Eunice remarked.

"Where did the gentlemen go today:1" Caroline asked.

"The cockfights," Eunice remarked. "Disgusting!"

The other two nodded their heads in agreement.

"Last week Dree asked me if I wanted to go to Newgate with him to see a hanging," Caroline said, shuddering. "He brought me back a printed leaflet, a biography of the criminal hanged. There was a line drawing of the fellow. He was very young, but he was a highwayman."

"Quinton says he would like me to come to Tattersall's when he purchases the new mares," Allegra told them.

"Ohh, that would be fun," Caroline replied. "May we come, too? I could use a new mare, and my birthday is coming up," she finished with a wicked smile.

"You speak to Adrian then," Allegra said, "and let him ask Quinton. It will be a question of two men buying horses then, and not an entertainment for us. Quinton is very serious about these purchases, and I can certainly understand his point. His stud is a magnificent beast, and has already sired several fine racers on less than distinguished stock. With really fine mares what will he do? We shall have the most sought after racers in all of England," Allegra said proudly, and her friends smiled.


***

Jt had begun to rain-an icy rain-when Allegra arrived home. Her two friends had decided to return to Pickford House rather than stop for tea. The big house was quiet. Mr. Trent was nowhere in evidence. He really was the epitome of discretion. Her father, of course, had already returned to Morgan Court.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," Marker said, coming forward to take her cape.

"Has his lordship come home?" Allegra asked the butler.

"He is in his rooms, Your Grace. Hawkins says he has caught a bit of a chill at the cockfights."

"Have tea brought up to my apartments," Allegra instructed Marker, and then she hurried up the stairs. She found her husband soaking in her tub, and smiled. "Boys will be boys," she greeted him. "You did not wear a hat this morning, did you, my lord?"

"Do not scold, my darling," he replied, and then he sneezed.

"What are you doing in my tub?" she demanded.

"I was chilled to the bone, Allegra," he answered, and sneezed again. "Damned cock ring was out of the city, and in the open."

"Hawkins, get your master out of the tub," Allegra instructed the valet. "Dry him thoroughly, and we'll tuck him into bed. My bed. Honor, there is tea being brought up. Get a warming pan, and warm the sheets, and I'll want another down coverlet. Really, Quinton, and we were to go to the theatre tonight. I'll send around a footman to tell Dree and Marcus we shall not be coming this time."

"You can go," he told her. "There can be no gossip if you are in the company of friends," he told her.

"Do not be ridiculous," Allegra said sharply. "I am not the Duchess of Devonshire to appear socially in public without my husband at my side. Hawkins, where is the duke's nightshirt?" Then seeing it, Allegra snatched it up herself, and dropped it over his head. "Get into bed, Quinton, before you are really sick. With luck we shall have you cured by the morrow."

Honor had gotten the brass warming pan and was taking the chill from the sheets so that the duke might get into bed. When she had finished she said, "You'll want the supper upstairs tonight." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Allegra said shortly. "Nothing heavy, tell cook." She helped her husband into their bed, and put a nightcap upon his dark head. "We'll try and undo what you have done, Quinton."


"You are harder than my old nurse," the duke said. "I did not know you could be such a scold, madame."

"After dinner, sir, I shall punish you properly," Allegra murmured softly.

"Will you keep me warm, then, madame?" he murmured back, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Very warm," she promised him, and then she kissed his lips. "Now," she straightened up, "I must go and send a note around to Pickford House to tell the others we are not coming. Drink some tea. It will help to warm you up."

He caught her hand for a moment. "I do not mind that we are to have an evening alone, my darling," the duke told her. Then, turning the hand over, he kissed its palm ardently.

Allegra colored, then smiled. "Neither do I, Quinton. Next winter we need not come up to London. By the time we go home to Hunter's Lair we will have tasted all its pleasures, and not need to come back at all until our daughters come for their seasons."

"We have no daughters," he reminded her.

"We will… eventually," she promised him. "Now let me go so I can send my note off to Pickford House."

"I don't think I can ever let you go, Allegra," her husband told her.

"To be loved as you love me is sometimes overpowering," she answered him, and then taking her hand back, hurried off.

Quinton Hunter lay back against the lavender-scented pillows. Her words rang in his head. To be loved as you love me is sometimes overpowering. And she loved him back. Passionately in his arms, but with words Allegra was more reserved. He hoped one day she would not be. It was his own personal weakness, although he would never admit to it, that he needed to hear her voicing her love for him. He closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had been ill. He was going to enjoy being taken care of by his beautiful wife.

Allegra had left her bedchamber where her husband lay. She passed through her salon, and hurried downstairs to the small family drawing room. "Fetch Hawkins to me," she told an attending footman, and when the duke's valet came she said, "Was the duke wearing flannel drawers today, Hawkins?"

"No, Your Grace," the valet replied. He could see that the duchess was in a fine fettle.

"In future you will see that His Grace is dressed properly for the winter weather, Hawkins, which means his hat as well. If he complains at you you will say that I have given you your orders. Is that understood?" She looked hard at the valet.

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied.

"You are dismissed," Allegra told the valet.

Hawkins departed the room, and as he did he ran into Marker. "Her's got a good temper on her, eh, Marker. You must have been given the back of her tongue many times, her growing up in this house."

"Her Grace is generous of heart, and sweet-natured most of the time," Marker replied stiffly. He thought the valet presumptuous to say the least. "If she has chastised you then it is because you deserved it. I understand the duke has returned home with a chill. Obviously he was not warmly enough dressed by you this morning. You had best watch your place, Hawkins. There are those who would be eager to serve His Grace if you cannot."

"Tough old bird, ain't he?" Hawkins heard behind him, and turned about to see Honor standing there.

"I've had two dressings-down in a very short time," Hawkins said sourly. "For a lass with no background so to speak, your mistress is a proper Tartar, Honor."

"You watch your mouth, Hawkins," Honor said, suddenly angry. "I'll hear naught against my lady. You didn't do your duty."

"He don't like flannel drawers," Hawkins said stubbornly, "and I can't make him wear a hat if he don't want to. I'm his valet, not his ma."

"You have your orders from Her Grace," Honor warned him. "The duke will obey if you tell him she says it. He loves her something fierce."