A Duchess Enraged Read Free Page A

was placed in his. The clergyman approached, wreathed
in smiles, and spoke the words of the wedding ceremony over them. Allegra could
hear the fury in Adam's voice as he made his responses, and she could feel the
tension in his body as he stood next to her. He hates me, she thought
miserably, and who can blame him? She glanced at him and their eyes met
briefly, but she detected no spark of interest or concern. Any hopes she had
cherished of possibly striking up a friendship with her husband withered away.
This marriage, it seemed, was doomed from the start.

Chapter 1
    A Message from the
Dowager
    Servants roamed the
card room of Madame de Sauvonville’s charming town house, replacing the candles
for a third time that evening as they guttered due to the lateness of the hour.
Adam, Duke of Gravesmere, tossed his cards on the green baize of the table,
drained his glass of wine, and turned to his companion.
    “I’ve had enough of
cards, Roussier,” he drawled. “Let us adjourn to the salon and see what risqué
entertainments La Sauvonville is providing this evening. “
    “Half-naked whores as
usual my dear Gravesmere,” his friend responded, but with a swirl of his claret
satin coat skirts Roussier did as his English friend requested.
    “It’s true that it
won’t be new, but perhaps it will be novel.” Gravesmere smiled and strode out,
his unpowdered head rising above those of the other gentlemen present. In the
salon he glanced over the crowd of elegant noblemen, many of them accompanied
by the ladies of the house, or masked ladies of Society who wished to enjoy
daring yet private pleasures. At the front of the room two women, nearly
unclothed, caressed each other in a way that much of the audience clearly found
arousing.
    “Somewhat shopworn,
aren’t they?” he asked Roussier, as his eyes roved around the room. He stopped
abruptly and smiled, his brilliant but somewhat jaded green eyes gleaming.
    “Now there’s a fresh
lass,” he remarked of a young woman serving wine. The neckline of her gown had
rocketed past demure and daring to stop just past indecent, at the point where
her corset lacings ended.
    “Look at those tits!”
exclaimed Roussier, “Sacre bleu, what is elevating them, how can a pair so big
stand so proud?”
    Gravesmere glanced in
the girl’s direction again and smirked. “You could take snuff off them, I vow.”
    Roussier raised an
eyebrow. “Ten livres says that you can’t,” he replied.
     “You’ll wager on
it?” exclaimed Gravesmere, “How can I lose such a wager? The pleasure of trying
will be worth ten livres even if I fail.” He beckoned to the maid, who hurried
over, wine bottle in hand. Gravesmere waved it away.
    “Set it down, wench,”
he commanded, “and hold that remarkable chest high.”
    The maid looked
confused, but obeyed, and Gravesmere chuckled as he reached out and gently
rolled both of the nipples displayed before him. They tightened and the maid’s
very large, very firm breasts appeared to rise still higher above the
non-existent neckline of her gown. He reached into the deep pocket of his
elaborately gold-laced dark green coat, and extracted his snuffbox. He flipped
it open with one carefully manicured thumb, and shook back the intricate lace
ruffle that foamed over his right hand, then dipped a pinch delicately from the
box and laid it atop the maid’s breast just behind her now erect nipple. A
small crowd had gathered around them and with an air he bowed and then lowered
his face to the maid’s breast and sniffed up the snuff, leaving not a speck on
her skin. A laugh rose from the surrounding gentlemen.
    Roussier shook his
head and smiled. “Alack, I owe you ten livres, and the pleasure has been all
yours, Gravesmere!”
    Gravesmere grinned
broadly. “I’ll pay the lady the 10 livres you owe me for the pleasure of doing
the same on the other side.”
    He cocked one eyebrow
at the maid, who seemed well pleased to be paid so much for so little,