Deceived. Bertrice Small

voyage home. “I shall speak to your mama about that,” he said. “Of course Miss Spencer-Kimberly will be welcome at Hawkes Hill.”

      They rode up the driveway to the house, where two young men hurried up to take their mounts.

      “Your servants are not black?” The duke was curious.

      “Our house servants are bondsmen and bondswomen. Mama prefers it that way. Few leave us when their term of servitude is up. We have slaves peopling the fields and the sugar house. I have also trained several intelligent blacks as foremen, and clerks to work with me. They are most trustworthy men. We do not mistreat our people as so many others do. My father would have freed his slaves if he could have. Since he could not afford to do so, he did the next best thing. He treated them with humanity and kindness.”

      “We will speak of this later,” the duke said, brushing the dust from his breeches and coat.

      “Come into the house, Valerian,” George said, leading the way.

      The foyer was high-ceilinged and cool, the duke found. The woodwork was all white, as were the walls. It was very inviting. He followed George into a bright room with yellow and white striped wallpaper. The furniture was beautifully carved and fashioned mahogany, the chair and settee seats neatly caned. There were no draperies on the long windows, only tiers of mahogany shutters. The wide pine plank floors were covered with a large and beautiful blue and beige Oriental carpet, one of the finest he had ever seen. Three ladies awaited them. The elder, gowned in black silk and white lace, arose, smiling.

      “Valerian, may I present my mother, Oralia Kimberly,” George said politely. “Mama, the Duke of Farminster.”

      Oralia held out her hand to be kissed, and then, withdrawing it, said, “You are welcome to St. Timothy, your grace.” The hand gestured. “My daughters.”

      His dark blue eyes quickly swept over the two girls. One wore a simple gown of blue-gray, and her look was almost bold. The other was gowned in white silk with pink painted rosebuds. She did not look at him, but rather blushed prettily as Oralia drew her up.

      “This is your betrothed, your grace, my stepdaughter, Charlotte Calandra Kimberly,” she said. “Greet the duke, my child,” she gently pressed the girl. “He has come a long way for this moment.”

      Calandra looked up, her dainty pink mouth making a tiny “O” of pleasure as she gazed upon the man who was to be her husband. He was divinely handsome! She held out her hand, saying in a soft voice, “How do you do, sir. I bid you welcome to St. Timothy’s.” And she curtsied.

      He took her hand in his. It was an elegant little hand. Then, slowly raising it to his lips, his eyes locking onto hers, he kissed it. “Your brother tells me that you prefer being called by your second name, Miss Kimberly. Calandra, Duchess of Farminster, has a pleasing ring to it, do you not think?” And he smiled warmly at her.

      I shall swoon, Cally thought, but then Aurora pinched her, and she drew in a breath, saying in what she hoped was a detached voice, “It does when you say it, your grace. Since I have learned of our betrothal, I have not dared to even think of it. It was all such a surprise.”

      “For me also,” the duke replied, “but now that I stand in your exquisite presence, I am no longer surprised, simply overwhelmed by the beauty that is to be mine.”

      “Ohhh,” Cally gasped, the giggle she had been about to utter destroyed by Aurora’s relentless pinching fingers.

      “And may I present my daughter, Aurora, your grace,” Oralia said, taking advantage of Calandra’s speechlessness to bring the other girl forward in front of the duke.

      Aurora looked him straight in the eye, saying, “Sir, I echo my sister’s welcome to St. Timothy.”

      He kissed her hand too, replying, “I thank you, Miss Spencer-Kimberly. I confess that had I been presented with the both of you and told to choose a bride, I should be hard pressed to do so.”

      “How fortunate it is, then, sir, that you do not have to choose. The choice had been made for you, is that not easier,” Aurora said.

      “You are quick-spoken, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” he replied.

      “Indeed, sir, I am,” she answered, not in the least quelled. Arrogant bastard, she thought. I was right to foist him off on Cally. She will be the perfect complacent little wife for him.

      “Come and sit by me, your grace,” Oralia said, gaining hold of the situation before it got out of hand. “Was your voyage a pleasant one? George, ask Hermes to bring us some refreshment. We make a lovely drink with our own rum and fruit juice,” she told the duke, smiling. Oralia patted the place beside her on the settee as she seated herself. She then nodded to Calandra to seat herself on the other side of the duke.

      The young girl was trembling with excitement. Aurora bent and murmured softly into her sister’s ear, “Calm yourself, Cally. He is, after all, only a man. And try not to giggle.”

      Calandra nodded. She could not take her eyes from the duke’s face. He was so handsome! She would wager a sugar crop that Aurora was sorry now for switching places with her. This man, of course, would want children, but she would deal with that eventually. She could have children. She concentrated on the positive. She was amazed that fortune had smiled on her in this manner. And for the first time in their lives, she felt genuinely sorry for Aurora. To have so carelessly given up a duke!

      Hermes arrived with a silver tray, bringing with him lemonade for the two girls, and rum and fruit punch for the others. The duke remarked, surprised, that the beverage was cool.

      “There is a stream that runs by the kitchen house,” Cally told him breathlessly, eager to join the conversation between her mother and the duke. “Jugs of rum and fruit juices as well as milk and cream are kept there to cool. St. Timothy is a well-run plantation.”

      “So I have noticed, Miss Kimberly,” he replied. “Perhaps tomorrow you will ride out with me and show me the estate.”

      Cally’s pretty face fell. “I do not ride well,” she said.

      “George and Aurora will show you the island,” Oralia said quickly. “Calandra must avoid the sun, for her skin is delicate, and has always been so. Not my chicks, however.”

      “In England the sun is not as strong,” Valerian Hawkesworth said. “I will help you to improve your riding skills, Miss Kimberly, and we shall ride to the hunt together. Would you like that?”

      “Oh, yes!” Cally said enthusiastically, thinking silently she would rather die than be bounded all over the English countryside on the back of a nasty horse.

      Aurora swallowed back a guffaw. Cally was afraid of horses and always had been. Riding was pure torture for her. She hated it. Well, the duke would learn that soon enough, but Aurora doubted he would be too disappointed, for in the long run Cally would make him an excellent wife. That was all he really wanted. A pleasant companion and a good breeder. That was what all men wanted. Or so her father had always said, and when he did so in Oralia’s presence she would look sad. Papa and her stepmother had lost two sons before the doctor who had once lived on the island in their employ had said she could try no more else the next pregnancy kill her. He had gone back to England shortly after that, having taught one of the bondsmen and a slave man enough of his skills to be of service to the inhabitants of St. Timothy.

      “Aurora is a fine horsewoman,” she heard Mama say. “I would like her to travel to England with you and Calandra so she may experience society, and perhaps find a husband of her own. She has a fine dowry, your grace, and is, as you see, a pretty young girl. She will be company for Calandra, and a comfort, too, as my daughter has never been off this island in her entire life, and is apt to be frightened.”

      “You will call me Valerian, ma’am,” he began. “While Miss Aurora is certainly more than welcome at Hawkes Hill, and my grandmother will be more than delighted to take her entrance into society upon herself, I would prefer that your daughter travel to England on the vessel following the Royal George. The return