Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Easter wedding of Maria Gunning was undoubtedly the Society event of the year. The big draw for the ton was that it was to be hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton at Grosvenor Place. Since their nuptials had been kept secret and held at a wedding chapel, Society had been cheated of the spectacle and made up for it by flocking to Hamilton House for the sister’s wedding.

The mansion overflowed with urns of white lilies, roses, and baby’s breath, chosen by Elizabeth. Hamilton had allowed her carte blanche with the flowers to make up for refusing to allow her to wear the pink maid of honor gown that Maria had chosen. He insisted that his duchess wear the Douglas colors of blue and white. Elizabeth was privately delighted, though she pretended great disappointment over the pink dress. She was learning to let Hamilton think he controlled her. It took more courage than she thought she possessed, but she’d had years of experience in handling a dominant person and did it with skillful subtlety.

For once, Bridget was forced to take a back seat, since Maria made sure she was the star attraction at her own wedding, and Hamilton made certain that Elizabeth was the hostess of the social event. After the vows had been exchanged, the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton headed the reception line, followed by George and Maria, the Earl and Countess of Coventry, to welcome their illustrious guests. King George did not attend private weddings, but his heir, the Prince of Wales, along with his mother, Princess Augustus, attended, as did the Duke of Cumberland. Behind them came the Prime Minister and his wife, then Horace Walpole, London’s greatest gossip.

Elizabeth welcomed Will and kissed Charlie on the cheek. It was now evident to all that Lady Charlotte was with child, and she made no effort to conceal the pregnancy. “I’m so pleased you are well, and I cannot help but envy you,” Elizabeth whispered.

Will’s father, the Duke of Devonshire, accompanied the young couple, but his duchess was still at Chatsworth in Derbyshire, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her daughter-in-law or her expected grandchild. He thumped Hamilton on the back, eyed Elizabeth’s middle, and asked bluntly, “Not breeding yet?”

Elizabeth blushed. I was sick this morning . . . perhaps I am!

“My bride was virgin. Unlike others we did not jump the gun.”

Elizabeth’s blush deepened at the cruel remark her husband directed at Charlie. She was deeply grateful that her friend had not overheard as she welcomed Charlie’s parents, the Earl and Countess of Burlington. Suddenly, she became aware of something in the air. For a moment it was indefinable, then she realized that John Campbell had arrived. Abject fear rose up in her at what the two men would do. Only days ago they had been ready to kill each other. She was astounded when the men spoke with civility as if nothing were amiss between them.

Elizabeth felt cold as ice, then inexplicably hot as fire as she lowered her lashes and held out her hand to him. The cruel words they had exchanged danced silently upon the air.

John drank in the vision before him. He had been determined not to attend Coventry’s wedding since it was being held at Hamilton House, but some perverse craving had compelled him. He knew full well it would be tortuous to see her at Hamilton’s side, but he could not help himself. When he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, she raised her lashes and looked into his eyes. Not by word or sign did anything pass between them, but both felt the invisible golden thread that bound them one to the other.

Once all their guests passed down the reception line, Hamilton led Elizabeth to the ballroom, which had not been used since his parents had held a ball there more than a dozen years before. The musicians, sitting upon a raised dais at one end of the long room, began to play as the host brought the hostess to the dais. When he raised his hands an expectant silence fell over the guests. “I have had a special piece of music composed in honor of my bride. We would be honored if you would choose your partners and promenade to ‘The Duchess of Hamilton’s Fancy.’ ”

It was completely unexpected to Elizabeth. She stood speechless with a self-conscious blush upon her cheeks, trying to look pleased but secretly wanting to sink through the floor as couples paraded past her, starting with Maria and George. Her husband murmured, “You are the highest ranking lady in this room, with the exception of the princess. Your sister is a countess.” Next came Charlie and Will. “Charlotte is a marchioness. Ah, here are the Cavendish sisters. Rachel is Countess Orford, and Cat will become lowly Baroness Duncannon. Even wealthy Dorothy Boyle is merely a countess. I’ve raised you to the pinnacle of Society, Elizabeth.”

Her hand was enclosed in his. She felt his fingers squeeze hers and feared he would crush them if her response was not appropriate. “You honor me, Your Grace,” she said low. You honor me as a possession, an object of beauty to be displayed. You dishonor me as a woman! My role is to decorate your arm and make men envy you.

When the piece of music was finished, the ballroom rang with applause. He smiled proudly down at her. “Now go forth and be a perfect hostess to our guests.”

Only when she moved away from him was she able to take a deep breath. Shrewdly, she made a point of seeking out Horace Walpole for special attention. He often made witty references to the inappropriate things Maria said, and Elizabeth wanted to engage him in intelligent conversation so that he would know she had more to offer than a pretty face. He danced elegantly, and she pretended reluctance to change partners when the Prince of Wales approached her. By genuinely listening to the things young George let drop she learned that he had become enamored of the fifteen-year-old daughter of the Duke of Richmond. “Next time we entertain, I shall invite her.” With that promise she won George’s undying affection.

Elizabeth danced with each and every male guest, including the new bridegroom. “Maria is the luckiest lady in London to have your devotion, George.”

“I’m taking her to Paris for our honeymoon. I hope she enjoys the sights.”

Poor, dear George—it will be one long shopping spree.She kissed his cheek and said with genuine affection, “I am so glad my sister married you, my lord.”

Coventry unwittingly returned her to her husband’s side after their dance, but Elizabeth had perfected a serene smile that hid her emotions from everyone.

Hamilton interrupted a conversation between the king’s son, Cumberland, and John Campbell. “I know how much Elizabeth loves to dance. Could I ask you to partner her, John, since I seldom dance myself?” He felt a surge of power as he dangled his beautiful wife before his rival.

“It would be my pleasure, James.”

Elizabeth placed her hand in Campbell’s without demur, and he led her into the dance. She felt as if the very air crackled and sparked between them. You devil! What in hellfire are you doing here? “Welcome to Hamilton House, Lord Sundridge.”

You tempt me to madness!His dark eyes devoured her. “Thank you. May I say that you dance superbly, Your Grace.”

She smiled her acknowledgment of his compliment. “My dancing master had a devil of a time. When I came out of the Irish bog, all I could manage was a clog dance.”

John’s eyes danced with sardonic amusement. “From actress to duchess in a few short months. You are to be congratulated.”

“Such compliments will turn my head, you smooth-tongued knave.”

The moment she said it she blushed furiously. She had no doubt her words had evoked how he had made love to her with his mouth. Desperately, she changed the subject. “For an uncouth, uncivilized Highlander your dancing skills are remarkable.”

“Second only to my skills at seduction.” Curse you, Elizabeth, I want to make love to you right here in public!

“That is doubtless the result of much practice.”

“Nightly practice.” Now it was his words that conjured pictures in their heated imaginations. The ache that had begun in his groin reached all the way to his heart. His arms throbbed to lift her and carry her off into the night. Then the throbbing spread to other vulnerable parts of his body.

As Elizabeth swayed and turned, the rhythm of the music insinuated itself inside her, filling her with a longing to be held in John’s arms forever. The physical need to have him touch her was sweet torture, but the emotional need was far deeper. Her desire to belong to him, and him alone, was an overwhelming agony.

When the music stopped, their eyes and their hands clung possessively for half a dozen heartbeats. John could not bear to return her to Hamilton, so he enfolded her hand in his and took her over to her friend Charlie, who was watching the dancers from a comfortable chair at the side of the ballroom.

Charlie saw the haunted look in Elizabeth’s eyes and said something outrageous to break the spell. “Will you allow me to sit in your presence, now that you outrank me?”

John kissed Charlie’s hand. “She outranks us both.”

Elizabeth’s laughter rang out, though her throat was choking with unshed tears.

The dancing lasted until dawn, when Maria finally decided she was tired of the role of blushing bride. A gallant Coventry carried her to their carriage that would take them to the ship sailing on the morning tide to France. Elizabeth stood dutifully at her husband’s side until their last guest departed. Hamilton reeked of brandy, and she noted with distaste that he was completely unsteady as he attempted to climb the stairs.

It was six o’clock before she fell into bed exhausted. In three short hours Kate Agnew awoke her when the portrait painter arrived. She stood posing, stifling yawns, until the hour of noon when Hamilton invariably came on the scene. When he did not come, she asked Kate to see that Sir Joshua Reynolds was served lunch, then she went in search of Morton, the duke’s valet.

“He is indisposed, Your Grace. Dr. Bower is with him, but their raised voices indicate an altercation,” Morton confided.

Elizabeth felt torn. It was her duty to see her husband if he was ailing, but fear of him held her at bay. With great daring she decided to go down to the entrance hall and speak with the doctor before he departed. Instinctively she believed she would get more from him than she would from Hamilton.

It seemed a long wait, but eventually she saw the medical man descend the stairs. “Dr. Bower? I am Elizabeth Douglas.”

He looked at her keenly to see if talk of her beauty was exaggerated. Concluding that it was not, he decided to warn the duchess. “Your husband is a stubborn man, Your Grace. He has a liver condition that is exacerbated by imbibing too much liquor. My advice to you is to keep the decanters under lock and key, and to tread softly. He is all liverish spleen at the moment and ready to savage anyone who dares to point out the truth.”

“I’m so sorry that he is a difficult patient, Dr. Bower.”

“Don’t apologize for him, my dear. The bills for my services always compensate me for his boorish behavior.”

After lunch, Elizabeth posed for three more hours, hoping the portrait would soon be finished. When Reynolds told her it should be completed by the end of the week, she felt relieved. Lack of sleep had sapped her energy and when he left she removed the cape and gown and intended to lie down. Before she could do so, however, Bridget swept into her private suite with an armful of newspapers.

“The wedding was written up in all the society pages. It was beyond question the social event of the season! Every paper speaks of Maria’s beauty and describes every detail of her gown. Most of them were extremely generous to you too, Elizabeth, praising your success as a hostess, but of course flattery is to be expected for the wife of a duke. That inveterate gossip, Horace Walpole, lays it on a bit too thick; he goes on and on about you: ‘In the past the image of a duchess has always been dumpy, dowdy, and dull. The Duchess of Hamilton has changed all this with her exquisite face and form, which are incomparable. Her wit, intelligence, and charm earn her the right to truly be called Her Grace.’ ”

“That’s nice,” Elizabeth said absently, thinking she would be able to retire early because Hamilton was under the weather.

“All you can do is yawn! I’m sorry if the newspapers bore you, Miss Ingratitude, but you have me to thank for all this, you know!”

“Ne obliviscaris, I do not forget,” she said softly.

Bridget was mollified. She did not hear the quiet threat in Elizabeth’s voice. “The morning post brought four invitations, and you received another half dozen this afternoon. They are pouring in in reciprocation for the wedding of course. I have a new gown for Countess Orford’s entertainment tonight. What will you wear?”

“I’m not going. I’ve decided to go to bed early.”

“Are you unwell? Perhaps you’re with child already!”

Could it be possible?Her spirits soared; a child to love would bring her a chance for happiness. But who would be the father? She immediately dismissed the terrifying question. “No, Mother, I am not with child.”

“Hamilton may want an heir, but not this soon, I warrant. He enjoys having you on his arm, showing off your beautiful face and form. ’Tis the sole reason he married you. He won’t be best pleased if you turn fat and frumpy within a month of your wedding.”

Elizabeth’s spirits fell. It would be best if I’m not with child! The last thing she wanted was to incur Hamilton’s wrath.

“I saw the look of disgust on his face when he saw Charlotte Cavendish flaunting her pregnancy like a fat little sow.”

“Charlie looks beautiful! Don’t be hateful.” It was one of the few times she had dared to speak sharply to her mother. She bit her lip, knowing Bridget would find a way to retaliate, but she didn’t care. She would defend Charlotte with her last breath.

Bridget went straight to Kate Agnew with the information that Elizabeth was refusing to go to the Orfords’ entertainment being held at Devonshire House. Then Kate told Hamilton. Within the hour he strode into her rooms with a smug-faced Kate at his heels. He looked slightly jaundiced but ready to do battle with a disobedient wife. He eyed the silk robe she had slipped over her petticoat. “Why haven’t you begun to dress?”

“I thought I would go to bed early, Your Grace. I’m tired.”

“Tired? You are only seventeen, how can you possibly be tired?”

I’m tired of being a duchess.She licked dry lips. “I danced until dawn then stood posing for my portrait for seven hours.”

“Such hardships,” he mocked. “Get dressed immediately.”

Kate went to the wardrobe, took out a sapphire blue gown with a white scalloped underskirt, then brought a corset.

Elizabeth did not remove her robe. “When I learned you were ill, I assumed we wouldn’t be going to the Orfords’ tonight.”

“Ill? Have you been spying on me?” The yellow tinge of his skin turned a mottled red; he took a threatening step toward her.

“Spying? No! When the doctor came to see you—”

“Who the devil told you about the doctor?” He swung around and his accusing eyes fell on Kate. “Get out!” He was in a blazing temper now. “Lying and gossiping servants—I won’t have it! And I won’t have a wife who stands there and defies my wishes!” He reached out one powerful hand and tore the silk robe from her.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her body in a defensive gesture, but he grabbed her and picked up the corset from the bed where Kate had dropped it. He pulled it over her head, then yanked it about her midsection and tugged cruelly on the laces.

She cried out in pain as her breasts were trapped and squeezed inside the corset. She pushed the boned garment down beneath her breasts with trembling fingers. “You are hurting me,” she gasped.

“Take a deep breath, damn you!”

Elizabeth drew in her breath. He pulled the laces so tightly she screamed. Then she heard his grunt of satisfaction.

“Now finish dressing. Don’t make me hurt you again.”

At Devonshire House Elizabeth pinned a smile to her face and pretended she was enjoying herself. Under Hamilton’s watchful eye, it was difficult to have a private word with Charlie, but finally she managed it. “After dancing until dawn, all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep.”

“Me too,” Charlie admitted, “but Rachel is my sister-in-law now, and since she and Orford were entertaining at Devonshire House, I could hardly send my regrets. Because of my condition I’ve suddenly become so lethargic. I want to sleep for a month!”

Lethargic exactly describes the way I feel.“What other symptoms do you have, Charlie?”

“My breasts are tender and extremely sensitive, but they’re also larger—and Will finds them very attractive.”

Elizabeth smiled but winced inwardly. Her breasts were sore, but surely that was because Hamilton had been so rough with her?

“Do you suspect you might be having a baby, Elizabeth?”

“No, no,” she denied quickly, but secretly she believed she was indeed with child, and hope and fear were at war in her heart.

For the first two hours of the ball she hoped that John Campbell would not attend, but as midnight approached she began to long for the sight of him. She wanted to look into his eyes, hear his deep voice. She ached for his touch, if only in the dance.

John Campbell too had been at war with himself. He knew he should avoid Devonshire House tonight, but as the hour advanced Elizabeth drew him like a lodestone. Even after he arrived he had no intentions of dancing with her, but the golden thread that bound them drew them inexorably toward each other.

As the music swirled about them, his eyes fell on the sapphires glittering at her throat. “Hamilton indulges your love of jewels.”

Your beauty needs no jewels to enhance it, Elizabeth.

“How very fortunate I am that he enjoys flaunting his wealth.” They mean nothing to me.

He wanted to snatch Hamilton’s jewels from her throat and scatter them across the ballroom floor. “He enjoys flaunting you, Elizabeth. ’Tis the reason he married you.”

Her laugh was brittle. “I’m not naive enough to suppose he married me for love, or my elegant manors.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No, you have the manners of an Irish wildcat, though you keep your claws sheathed.” Sheath me.

He longed to thread his fingers into her glorious golden hair and draw her mouth to his. His body ached to make love to her. What a bloody fool he had been. He should have made her his wife when he had the chance. Now all he had were regrets.

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. His closeness made her dizzy and she was afraid she might faint. She gasped for air.

“Are you all right?” His deep voice was intense.

She gave him a slumberous glance. I want you to pick me up and carry me home. I want you to undress me, lift me into bed, and hold me close against your heart. “For a moment I thought you had stolen my senses, then I remembered my tight corset.”

His eyes lowered to her lush breasts that swelled from her low-cut gown. He was mad with jealousy that another had marital rights to touch her beautiful body and make love to her every night. His jaw clenched. Cock-teasing little bitch.

At four in the morning Hamilton decided to leave. He and old Devonshire had engaged in an unspoken drinking contest as they played cards. It finally ended when the duke fell asleep in his cups with a snore. Only then did Hamilton take Elizabeth home.

She found Emma waiting in her chamber. “Where is Kate Agnew?”

“Hamilton gave her the sack and asked me to be your maid.”

“Oh, thank God, Emma! The woman has watched me like a spider every moment since I arrived in this house.”

Emma removed Elizabeth’s jewels and gown. When she unlaced her corset, the young duchess staggered. “That damn thing was far too tight. You are dead on your feet, child. Into bed with you.”

Within minutes Elizabeth slipped into blissful sleep. Soon she tumbled headlong into a vivid dream:She was dancing and all she wore was a long strand of jewels wound about her neck, her waist, and her hips. John lifted the huge blood-red ruby that nestled atop the golden curls between her legs and slowly began to unwind the string of glittering diamonds that was attached to it. Laughing, she spun faster and faster, giddy with the teasing, tempting, taunting game they played. She was naked save for the jewels about her neck, and John held the other end as if she were an animal on a leash. She growled seductively and unsheathed her claws. He laughed at her antics. “I always fancied an Irish wildcat in my bed.” She crouched, then sprang upon him, nipping his throat with her sharp teeth. “It will take more than a Barbarian Highlander to tame me!”

He licked his lips. “I have a secret weapon . . . remember?”

She gazed at his mouth, mesmerized, and remembered how he had used it to make love to her the first time. “I will never forget.Ne Obliviscaris, John,” she purred.