"It is not only the wealth involved," she said to him. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to be barren at my age, especially when both my cousins and my stepmother are about to have a child? My wealth is going to be taken away from me, and I cannot even give you an heir, Quinton. It appears to me that you have gotten a bad bargain in me."

"Do you love me?" he asked looking down into her distraught face. "Do you love me, my darling duchess?"

"Ido!" she cried. "How can you ever doubt it?"

"Then why do you doubt me, Allegra? I love you, and all your wealth means nothing to me as long as you love me back," he told her. Then he kissed her passionately.

She clung to him, her eyes welling with tears. He was a good man, but she knew he could not possibly really mean what he was saying. He had not yet had time to consider the situation. But, oh, she wanted to believe! They would return to Hunter's Lair, and he would soon see his wife with her pittance as a very bad bargain. Especially if she could not at least keep her end of their marriage bargain and produce a son for him.

He sensed her distress. I low was he to make her believe that he loved her no matter what happened? He sighed, and held her close, his lips brushing the top of her hair.

Their dinner came, but Allegra ate little. She had lost her appetite, and nothing tasted good to her. The duke on the other hand ate heartily of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, salmon broiled with dill sauce, green beans, bread, butter, cheese, and a caramel custard. The innkeeper had a surprisingly good supply of good French Bordeaux, and Quinton Hunter drank three goblets down with his meal.

The next morning they departed early after a hearty country breakfast that Allegra picked at while her husband ate, as she put it, "like a field hand." The innkeeper provided them with a basket for luncheon. They stopped to rest the horses at noon, and by two o'clock were on the road again. At four as they were about to pass by a rather prosperous-looking inn a man ran out and flagged them down.

"Duke of Sedgwick?" he asked.

"I am the Duke of Sedgwick," Quinton Hunter said, sticking his head from the carriage.

"Lord Morgan has sent ahead, Your Grace. We have your accommodations and your own prime cattle waiting in the stables. Lord Morgan asks that his men be allowed to return his horses tomorrow. If you'll turn in, and come this way, my lord." The man swung about, and taking the harnesses of the lead horses escorted the duke's coach into the innyard.

"How thoughtful," Allegra said sourly.

"She's in a right evil mood," Honor murmured softly to Hawkins as they descended the carriage. "I've never seen her this way, and I've been with her since she was a child."

"Spoilt rotten she is," Hawkins pronounced.

"You keep on like that, and I'll not wed you, Honor snapped.

"You have to now that I've put that baby in yer belly," Hawkins grinned wickedly. "As soon as we gets back to Hunter's Lair, my girl!"

"Shut yer gob, Peter Hawkins! That's all she needs to know, that I'm having a baby and she ain't! You say one word, and I swear, I'll kill you!"

"Don't know how long you can keep it a secret, lass," he said.

"Long enough if I have to," Honor replied.

"She don't deserve you, lass," the valet said softly.


***

Another day's travel, and they finally reached Hunter's Lair. They had been gone for two months, having left in the dead of winter to go up to London. Now, however, spring was here. The hillsides about them were green, and awash with golden daffodils. The trees in the orchards were beginning to look alive, their buds swelling. Several of the duke's mares had foaled, and the youngsters were already turned out into the fields during the day with their dams. The house looked wonderful in the late afternoon light, the sun turning the windows facing west a luscious red and gold like molten fire.

Allegra felt herself actually cheering up at the sight of her home. She smiled to herself, and the duke was heartened when he saw that small smile, and the pleasure in her eyes. Reaching out, he took her gloved hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. Her eyes met his, and she smiled again.

"I never want to leave here," she told her husband.

"Neither do I," he said. "We shall be as snug as two bugs in a rug forever, my darling duchess."

Crofts came forth from the house to greet them. "Welcome home, Your Graces," he said warmly. "I have a message for you that came this morning from Viscount Pickford. The footman who brought it says Lady Sirena has had her baby." He handed Allegra the sealed packet.


Allegra took it, and quickly broke open the seal. Her eyes flew over the page, her smile widening. Then she looked up at Quinton. "It's a boy!" she told him. "George Octavius William, and we are his godparents. Is the footman still here?" she asked Crofts.

"No, Your Grace, I sent him back. We did not know when to expect you," Crofts told his mistress.

Her face fell, but then she brightened. "I need time to write to Sirena. I shall send one of our people over in the morning. Perhaps we shall go ourselves, Quinton. A little boy! How happy they must be," Allegra said almost wistfully.

"You must rest for several days," the duke told her. "A winter in London, followed by our recent adventures, and all this travel make it very necessary for you to take your ease for a short while. I do not want you getting sick, Allegra." He took her hand up and kissed it tenderly. "Remember, Duchess, we have work to do yet if we are to catch up with Sirena and Ocky."

Allegra smiled sadly, pulling her hand away from him. "I shall go, and write to Sirena now so that it may go off first thing in the morning."

They ate their dinner in silence. Allegra had to admit that she was tired. They climbed into bed together, and he cuddled her in his arms, kissing the top of her head, but he knew instinctively that she was not in the mood to make love. Allegra, the duke understood, needed, as her stepmother had said, to come to terms with what was happening. He slept soundly in his bed, awakening to find the sun streaming into the chamber, and Allegra gone from their bed. He called to her, but received no answer. He pulled on the bell cord.

"Good morning, Your Grace!" Hawkins answered his summons almost immediately.

"Has the duchess gone down to breakfast?" he asked his valet.

"No, my lord. Her Grace ran off at first light. I believe Honor said she was going to visit the viscountess and the new baby."

"Damnation!" The word slipped out before he could prevent it, and he saw Hawkins hide a smile. He turned the subject. "When are you and Honor getting married?"

"Three weeks, Your Grace," the valet answered. "The banns have got to be read. And it won't be a moment too soon, it you gets my drift, my lord." He winked at his master.

"Good lord!" the duke exclaimed as his valet's words sunk into his sleep-befogged brain.

"Honor says we can't tell Her Grace, my lord, but I thought you ought to know," Hawkins said.

"Yes," the duke agreed, "but Her Grace will know eventually, won't she, Hawkins?"

"Aye, sir, but 'tis to be hoped that Her Grace will, by then, be in the family way herself," came the reply. Then Hawkins actually blushed. "Begging your pardon, my lord."

Quinton Hunter waved his hand. " ‘Tis all right, Hawkins. Are my clothes and shaving gear laid out in the dressing room?"

"Aye, sir."

"Then see that there is something for me to eat, and then go to the stables and have my stallion saddled. I'll have to ride overto the Earl of Pickford's estate after my breakfast," the duke told his valet. He climbed from his bed, lifting his nightshirt to pee in the chamber pot that Hawkins held out for him.

He dressed, and after a hearty breakfast, rode out. He didn't know whether to be angry at Allegra or not. She was exhausted, he knew. Their adventure in France, for all the ease with which they had accomplished their mission to rescue the Comtesse d'Aumont, had been harrowing. She was distressed by her father and stepmother's news, and equally upset that she was not having a child yet. But she would. Of that he was quite certain. They would have children if he could but make love to her again.

It was a beautiful spring day. The air held a hint of warmth. The flowers bloomed on the roadside. The meadows were filled with lambs who gamboled and chased one another while their dams baaed fretfully. It was the kind of spring day that poets wrote odes about, he thought. He reached Pickford Hall in midmorning, was shown into a morning room, and offered wine, which he declined.

"Have you seen him?'' Viscount Pickford demanded by way of greeting his oldest friend as he entered the room.

"I have only just arrived," the duke said, amused.

"Allegra said you wouldn't be coming probably for several days," Ocky said.

"I told Allegra not to come for several days," the duke replied. "Has she told you of our adventures in France?"

"France?" Viscount Pickford was astounded. "No. What the hell were you doing in Froggieland, Quint? And Allegra was with you?"

"And Marcus, Eunice, Adrian, and Caroline, too. And did I mention that Allegra's maid, Honor, speaks rather good French?" he concluded with a chuckle. Then he added, "But first I would see your heir."