The Decadent Duke (10 page)

John had decided to drive the carriage, not because of his wife's morbid objection to the boys going on horseback, but because his brother had a well-stocked stable of Thoroughbreds.

He heard his two older sons fighting over who would sit next to their father, but when Johnny slipped his hand into his and gave him a pleading look, John appointed his youngest son to the seat of honor.

The traffic along Marylebone Road was heavy and took all his attention. As they left London behind, however, John was free to let his mind wander.

Elizabeth's fears are irrational.
He relived the angry words they'd exchanged when she found out he'd bought a horse for young Francis. “You are tempting fate! Surely you've not forgotten your own father was killed by being thrown from his horse? I have these dark premonitions that bedevil me. They tell me that one of my sons is sure to die the same way, John. Why do you purposely do things that fill me with dread?”

“Your dark premonitions come from a bottle,” he accused.

“You are so pitiless! Why do you deny me the only medicine that calms me and allows me to sleep in blissful peace?”

John bit his tongue and strived for patience. “Francis will be thirteen when school term starts again. If he is the only youth in his class with a pony, the other boys will poke unmerciful fun at him.”

“There is no need to remind me that the male of the species is cruel, my lord. I am a faithful wife who has given you three sons, and what is my reward? You deliberately choose to live apart from me in London for most of the year.”

“Elizabeth, we have been through this before, ad nauseam. I am the member of parliament for Tavistock. If you would act as my political hostess in London, I would like nothing better. It would be most beneficial to me and the people we represent. The family house in Russell Square is a mansion most women would envy, but you have made it plain you cannot abide living in London.
You
are the one who chooses to live apart in Devonshire.”

“Perhaps I won't live much longer. Then you'll be happy! I have a distressing feeling that I am not long for this world.”

It took a deal of control not to roll my eyes at that one; I've heard it so often
.

“Father ... am I ... am I a demon?”

His son's small, earnest voice startled him. He smiled down at him. “I'm afraid not, Johnny. You are a mere mortal like your father, with the added advantage of a vivid imagination. Were you reading about demons?”

He shook his head. “No, sir.”

Johnny sounded extremely troubled. “Then what brought demons to mind?”

He shook his head again and tightened his lips.

“Johnny, I hope you know you can tell me anything.”

He hesitated for a long time, then finally blurted, “Mother ... Mother said she gave birth to a demon ... She said that I'm the one who has made her ill for nine years.”

Christ Almighty! How dare the madwoman poison his mind!
“Johnny, your mother doesn't mean the things she says. It is the medicine that makes her say such terrible things. Her illness has absolutely nothing to do with you. You must believe what I say. Promise me you won't brood about the things she has said to you.”

“I promise,” he whispered solemnly.

John let the horses have their head, and they bowled along at a great pace.
Why don't I simply let the bitch have all the opium she craves? Sooner or later she would overdose, and I would be free of her.
John shook his head to rid himself of the dark thoughts that would shame the devil himself.
I must not allow myself to indulge evil thoughts, no matter the provocation. I must learn to keep my fury under control.

The speed of the galloping horses helped to diffuse his anger. He glanced down at his son, and saw that Johnny still looked pinched about the mouth. He gradually pulled back on the reins until the horses slowed their pace. “Would you like a go?”

Johnny's features turned eager. “You mean, drive the team?”

His father nodded and lifted his son into his lap. Then he handed him the reins and encouraged him with a confident smile. After a mile, John began to sing, and when his sons joined in it lightened his heart. He reflected on the relief he felt at being away from his wife for a week. When he felt a nagging twinge of guilt, he forcefully banished it.

 
When they arrived at Woburn, John turned the carriage over to a groom at the stables, and his two older sons helped him unload their traveling bags.

“May we look at the horses, Father?” Johnny asked eagerly.

“I think it would be better if Uncle Francis were with you when you make your mad dash through his stables.” He handed him a small valise. “Do you think you can carry this piece of luggage?”

Johnny's smile conveyed that he was happy to be useful.

They hadn't walked more than a dozen yards from the stables when a pair of horses came thundering into the courtyard. Francis Russell and the woman who accompanied him reined in their blooded mounts. “John, this is a surprise! I only returned from London today.” He dismounted and threw his reins to his female companion.

John nodded curtly to the woman. “Mrs. Hill.”

She was one of his brother's many mistresses, reputed to be an old madame. Francis did not take her into society, but had installed her in a cottage on the grounds of Woburn. She was a bruising horsewoman with whom he enjoyed not only bed sport, but also hunting and riding about his wooded acres.

Francis welcomed his nephews and clapped his namesake on the back. “You've grown apace since I last saw you. I hope you are making the most of your summer. It won't be long before you're off to Cambridge, in the Russell tradition, right?”

"Right, sir. I'm in my senior year at Westminster.V

“William, you too are growing like a weed.” He glanced at Johnny, and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. “How old are you ... seven?V

“I'm eight, almost nine sir.”

“The runt of the litter. Let's hope you start to grow soon.”

Johnny stepped closer to his father in a defensive move.

“He has an oversize intelligence,” John told his brother, “and a keen thirst for knowledge. Johnny is a voracious reader.”

“I don't believe I opened a book until I was twenty-four,” Francis declared facetiously.

“You say that as if you are proud of it,” John said bluntly.

“Pride is a Russell strength, not a failing,” Francis drawled.

When they entered Woburn, they were met by Mr. Burke, the majordomo, who directed members of his staff to take the visitors' luggage, plenish bedchambers, and prepare for four more at the evening meal. The Duke of Bedford was served so well by Mr. Burke that he seldom had to issue orders to Woburn's plethora of servants.

A footman appeared with refreshments for the new-comers. Mutton pasties and fruit tarts were accompanied by ale for the men and glasses of dandelion and burdock for the boys.

“Father bought me a horse,” young Francis said proudly.

“About time you retired that pony. How about you, Will?”

“I live in hope,” Will replied.

“Leave it to me. We'll mount you on something worthy of a Russell. What do you say, John?”

“We'll see,” his father said, refusing to make a commitment.

“Why don't you fellows go and inspect the horses? At least pick out mounts you can ride while you're here.”

The three brothers needed no urging, but did look at their father, hoping for his permission.

“Go on, then. We'll be along shortly. Keep your eye on John.”

“I thought I'd find you at Russell Square. What happened?”

“Elizabeth grew agitated in London, so on the recommendation of the doctor I leased a house in Dorset Fields.”

“Did it help the situation?”

“No, not really. The physician confirmed her melancholia and said she looked consumptive.”

“Well, there you are. Perhaps that is the root of what ails her.”

“Looks can be deceiving. She
looks
like a bloody angel, but I assure you she is anything but.”

“Then you don't think it's consumption?” Francis asked.

“It's laudanum. She's addicted to the filthy stuff!”

“So she suffers from the blue devils? I'm so sorry, John. Opium eats the brain, you know.”

“What can I do? If I asked her sisters to come and spend time with her, they would learn her secret. They are so straitlaced, it would shock them out of their minds. You're the only one I can be frank with. I've had to employ a nurse for Elizabeth's own well-being while I'm away.”

Francis poured two brandies and handed one to his brother. “If she's not too far gone, abstinence is the only answer. You'll be able to keep a vigilant watch while you're home for the summer, but what about when parliament opens?”

“Exactly,” John said, gazing over the rim of his glass.

“Keep her off the stuff for a month, and when you have to go back to work, send her to Bath to take the medicinal waters. Many ladies go to Bath for one cure or another. Both her sisters have beautiful homes near there. Elizabeth should stay at Longleat; it might bring her out of her melancholia. Let the Marchioness of Bath take some of the responsibility off your shoulders. What if she
is
shocked? Do you really give a goddamn?”

“Not really. It will be a miracle if Isabelle can put up with her deep depression and dark portents. I've had it up to my bloody epiglottis, and my gorge is rising.” John finished his brandy.

“Grandmama was deadset against your marrying her.”

“Yes, I know, but in my youthful ignorance I thought I was madly in love. Marriage certainly cured me of believing in anything so ridiculous as love. If it exists at all, which I gravely doubt, it is deceptively fleeting.”

“If only you'd listened to the domineering old girl and not gotten Elizabeth with child,” Francis reminded him.

“Well, I can never regret my sons, Francis. Becoming a father was the best thing that ever happened to me. Unfortunately, after Johnny was born, Elizabeth became mentally afflicted with melancholia. Sometimes I fear she is going mad.”

“Though I don't covet your wife, I do envy you your sons.”

“You mean you covet
legitimate
sons.”

“Exactly. I have bastards aplenty. But the beauty of by-blows is that you are not married to their mothers.”

“How can I argue with such faultless logic?”

“Have another brandy.”

“I think we'd better go to the stables and check on your nephews' antics. Brothers can get up to all sorts of trouble, if you remember.”

By the time they got to the stables, both Francis and William had chosen mounts for themselves and were eager to try them out in Woburn's park. Their uncle directed the grooms to bring the horses from their stalls, but the brothers saddled up themselves.

Johnny was stroking a stable cat. “Don't you have any ponies, Uncle Francis?”

“I'm afraid not. Let's find you a suitable colt.”

Johnny glanced at his father uncertainly.

John experienced a moment of doubt.
What of Elizabeth's dark premonition? My father did lose his life

when he was thrown from a horse.
John ruthlessly thrust aside his fear for his son. Life involved risks every day. “I'm sure Francis has a palfrey you can handle. How about Grey Lady over there?”

VA most mannerly creature. Let's get her saddled up, and you can give her a trot round the park. If you can handle her, we'll all go for a hunt tomorrow. Woburn has three thousand acres.”

“No promises,” John said firmly. “First things first.”

As it turned out, Johnny was able to handle the docile Grey Lady with confidence, and his father was proud of him. After some persistent persuasion from his sons, John finally agreed to a hunt the following afternoon.

The three brothers spent the rest of the day happily mucking about with the farm animals. Woburn had cattle, oxen, sheep, pigs, goats, geese, game birds, and a herd of domesticated deer. Its large kennels had foxhounds for hunting and some greyhounds.

That night, after his sons went to bed, John and Francis sat sipping brandy before the fire in the large, comfortable Woburn library. “I want to thank you for giving the lads such a happy day. Because of their mother's melancholy condition, their holidays haven't been much fun so far.”

“Boys their age need freedom to laugh, and shout, and fight, and generally horse about, like you and I did.”

“We went to a cricket match at Lord's last week. Charles Lennox was playing, and he invited us to spend a day at Marylebone Manor with his family. Their eldest son is close to Johnny's age. In fact, that's where I bought the horse for young Francis.”

“Lennox married Lady Charlotte Gordon. By God, there's a family for you! The Duchess of Gordon is nicknamed 'the whipper in.' She's absolutely shameless in the pursuit of ducal husbands for her daughters. She was after me for Louisa, but caught Charlie Cornwallis instead. I recently attended their wedding.”

“You managed to escape the Gordon knot.”

VMind you, the youngest daughter, Lady Georgina, is a vivacious beauty. I've got my eye on that one . . . tempting as bloody sin!”

A picture of Georgina appeared full blown in John's mind. He was shocked at his brother's words. Francis had always been attracted to older, experienced women, like Lizzie Melbourne. John had often thought it was because he sought out mother figures. “I have met the lady. She is extremely
young
.” His tone was forbidding.