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.

"Did the Duchess of Devonshire come?" Eunice asked.

"She never made it up the stairs, but here is her card," Allegra said gleefully. "I'm amazed she came at all. She is up until dawn gambling. One wonders when she sleeps."

"I saw Mr. Pitt the younger," Caroline said excitedly. "He did manage to get into your drawing room."

"He is very nice," Allegra recalled. "But, Caro, where was your aunt? Lady Bellingham accepted my invitation, and it isn't like her not to come to such a levee. I know she wouldn't have missed it for the world. All of society is in town now, and the gossip to be had is quite marvelous."

"No," Caroline admitted. "It isn't like Aunt to miss such a gathering. I cannot imagine what has happened to her."

"Perhaps I should send a footman around to make certain that she is all right," Allegra suggested, and then she did just that.

Marker brought the tea. He was followed into the room by several young footmen carrying large silver trays. Upon one were the tea sandwiches. Salmon with a sharp moutarde dressing, thinly sliced cucumber, roast beef, cheese, delicate breast of capon, and precisely cut slices of bread and butter. A second tray contained freshly baked scones, bowls of clotted Devonshire cream, and strawberry conserves. A third silver tray held the desserts. There were thinly sliced pieces of fruitcake, dark, rich, and filled with raisins. There were tarts of lemon, raspberry, and apricot; a caramel custard; and the duke's favorite, Genovese cake with its coffee cream filling.

Allegra poured the tea from a large silver pot into dainty Sevres cups while the footmen passed about plates of sandwiches, scones, and desserts. They gossiped about this afternoon's at home, and what people had worn, and who came. Even the gentlemen joined in enthusiastically. They were almost sated with tea when the footman returned from the Bellingham house.

"You have no message for me?" Allegra demanded, seeing that he carried nothing in his gloved hand.

"I was told to tell Your Grace," the footman began, "that his lordship received a letter from foreign parts this morning that has quite upset both him and her ladyship. They send their be-be-belated," he declared triumphantly, "apologies." Then the footman bowed to the duchess.

"Thank you," Allegra said. "There was nothing more?"

"Nothing, Your Grace."

"You are dismissed," Allegra told the footman. She turned to Caroline Walworth. "Who lives abroad that might send a letter that would distress your aunt and uncle so greatly?"

Caroline thought for several long moments, and then she said, "Uncle Freddie had a younger brother who married a French lady, but other than that I know nothing."

"Then we must go at once to Lady Bellingham and learn how we may help her," Allegra said. "She has been so kind, and good to all of us. How can we not at least try to repay that goodness?"

Everyone agreed, and so capes and cloaks were brought, as the carriages were advised to stand ready before the house. The six young people hurried out, entering their vehicles which set off through the dark London streets. The traffic was light as it was that time between the theatre and any formal dinners or parties to be held. Lord and Lady Bellingham lived but two squares over on Traleigh Square. The butler opening the door to their house looked quite surprised, for he had not been told that there were to be guests tonight. Then he saw Lady Caroline Walworth, his mistress's niece.

"Tell my aunt we have come to learn how we may help," Caroline instructed the butler as the single footman on duty struggled to take all of their outdoor garments.

"At once, m'lady" the butler replied as he showed them into the main drawing room.

They sat and waited in silence until the door opened and Lady Bellingham came into the drawing room. They were all shocked by the good woman's appearance, for she was drawn and pale. It was obvious she had been crying most of the day as her eyes were puffy and red. She was dressed in a housegown, and her hair disheveled. It was as if she had not prepared for her day at all. "Ohh, my dears, how good of you to come," Lady Bellingham said, and then she burst into fresh tears.

"Aunt, what is the matter?" Caroline cried, going to her relation, and putting her arms about her.

"It is your cousin, the Comtesse d'Aumont," Lady Bellingham managed to say before she wept again.

"I have a cousin who is a French countess?" Caroline said, bemused.

"Come, dear Lady Bellingham, and sit down." Allegra began taking charge of the situation as it was obvious no one else was going to do so. "Quinton, a sherry for the poor woman." She drew the older lady to a settee and sat down next to her. "Here, drink this. You must calm yourself, Lady Bellingham," Allegra continued. "Whatever the problem is, you will not solve it by weeping. If we are to help then we must know what is troubling you."