Deceived

Chapter 1

"I have only just heard of your husband's death, Mistress Kimberly. May I tender my condolences to you and your family?"

"You may, Captain Young," Oralia Kimberly said quietly. "Tell me, what brings you to St. Timothy? I have not seen you since Robert and I took our last voyage to Jamaica, two, three years ago."

"Three years," he reminded her, and then remembering why he was there, he handed her the letter. "I was entrusted with this letter in Plymouth, Mistress Kimberly. It is for your late husband. It has a mighty fancy crest on it, if I might be so bold to say."

"Why, so it does, Captain Young," Oralia Kimberly replied, a small smile touching her lips. Barnabas Young was a notorious gossip, but then how else could one learn what was going on in the outside world if it were not for people like him? "I do not recognize the hand," she said. "I believe I shall save it for Aurora to open, as she is her father's heiress."

"I hope he left Missy Calandra and Master George a bit too," the captain said, fishing none too delicately.

"Oh, indeed he did," the widow assured him. "Robert was most generous to my children even if they weren't his own. Why, Calandra is to have five thousand a year, not to mention an outright bequest of a thousand pounds, Captain Young. And, of course, George has done even better, being the young man in the family." There! Now the old seafaring Yankee gossip would have something to talk about as his ship made its way among the islands. And her children would be known as good marriage prospects. She and Robert had been so content with their family that they hadn't considered the future. Now, of course, widowed, the children without a fatherly protector, Oralia Kimberly had to think of her two daughters and her son. Of course Aurora wasn't really her child, but she had raised the little girl since she was barely three and thought of her as her own. She was certainly the only mother Aurora could remember. "Will you stay for dinner, and for the night?" she politely asked the captain.

"Thank ye kindly, Mistress Kimberly," he replied, "but 'tis not even noon yet. I have several other stops to make before I take on my cargo in Jamaica and head for England. I hope to get several voyages in before your stormy season hits. I've delivered your letter, and now I'll be heading off again." He tipped his hat to her and made a small bow. "Good day to ye, then, Mistress Kimberly."

"Good day, Captain Young, and thank you," she replied. Oralia Kimberly watched as the seaman made his way down the hill road back to the harbor of St. Timothy. She could see his great-masted ship riding at anchor in the bay. She looked again at the letter he had delivered. It was an extremely fancy crest that decorated the missive. Turning the letter over, she inspected the same crest in the sealing wax, and then, breaking the seal, she unfolded the paper. Waiting for Aurora had merely been an excuse to avoid opening the note in Captain Young's presence. She would have been hard pressed to keep the contents a secret with the nosy sailor standing before her. Her brown eyes scanned the page, and then she gasped. "Gracious! Oh, my!" she exclaimed. Then she sat down and fanned herself with the parchment. "Oh, Robert, why did you not tell me of this?" she said aloud to her dearly departed spouse.

"What, Mama? Are you still scolding Papa? I do not believe he can hear you now." Her son George gently teased his parent as he entered the airy morning room, removing his broad-brimmed hat, for he had been out in the fields, and the day was already hot.

Oralia Kimberly handed her son the letter.

"Damnation!" George swore softly when he had read it. "Does Aurora know of this, Mama?"

His mother shook her head in the negative. "I remember Robert mentioning to me some years back that he had arranged a marriage for Aurora one day, but he never brought it up again. Quite frankly, it slipped my mind. Ohhh, George! Just think! Aurora is to be a duchess!"

Her son burst out laughing.

"George!" Oralia Kimberly glared at her son.

Stifling his chortles, he replied, "Well, Mama, you must admit it is an interesting concept. You must let me be here when you tell her the news that even as we speak her betrothed husband is on the high seas, prepared to sail into the welcoming anchorage of her innocent, girlish heart." Then he burst out laughing again, quite unable to restrain himself.

"George," his mother said, "you are quite impossible! Do you not understand the importance of this? Aurora is to be the Duchess of Farminster. This island is her dowry. What will become of the rest of us, especially of you."

George Spencer-Kimberly shrugged. "I doubt the duke will dispossess us simply because he gains possession of the island, Mama. I am certain that I will remain on as the plantation's overseer, and I have the generous bequest that Papa left me, not to mention a yearly income as well. And you will certainly remain. Our about-to-be relation would hardly send his pretty mother-in-law packing."

"Of course you are correct," Oralia responded. Then she brightened even more. "And Calandra can go to England with Aurora, be presented to society, and find a titled husband! Of course she cannot seek as high as Aurora's husband, but a not too wealthy earl would be delighted to have a girl with five thousand a year. I am, of course, furious with Robert, God rest him, for not telling me of this match, but all in all, it is very fortuitous for the entire family, isn't it, George?"

"Only if Aurora cooperates," her son replied.

"Why would she not cooperate?" his mother asked. "What girl in her right mind would turn down a duke?"

"Aurora would," the young man replied, and then sat himself next to his mother. "You and Papa spoiled both the girls, Mama. Cally is charming, but a vain and acquisitive little minx. As for Aurora, she is probably the most headstrong girl in the world. If it is not to her liking, then she will not do it. God help the man who tempts her to the altar, Mama. And she will, I suspect, marry only if it is her idea first. Aurora is not a girl to sit coyly by, waiting for any man."

"Oh, George, what are we to do?" his mother said, and her eyes filled with anxious tears. "This duke is coming all the way from England to marry your sister. It would be scandalous for her to refuse him under such circumstances, especially after Robert arranged it."

"Does his letter say upon which vessel he will take his passage?"

"The Royal George," Oralia answered him. "It was to sail from Plymouth on the tenth of February."

"It's an elegant, sleek modern ship," George noted. "It should be arriving no later than March ninth, provided they do not run into any heavy weather, but coming south at this time of year, it should be smooth sailing for the bulk of the voyage, Mama. It carries little cargo, for it is a passenger vessel. It will probably go on to Barbados, St. Kitts, and Tobago after it stops here for our duke."

"And how long will this duke stay with us?" Oralia wondered, then answered her own question. "He will probably want to return fairly quickly to England. That means we won't have long to prepare for the wedding, or to pack Aurora's trousseau, or Cally's possessions. Oh! This is simply impossible!"

George grinned. "When do you intend telling Aurora, Mama?"

Oralia's pretty face grew determined. "Immediately, George! Your sister must be told right away so that she has time to get used to this change in her life. Aurora will be sensible. I know she will be sensible. You are right that she is headstrong, George, but she is an intelligent girl, and logical to a fault. This news will certainly come as a shock, I have no doubt, but when all is said and done, Aurora will see the wisdom in her father's decision. She will not want to disappoint him, I know, even if Robert is no longer here with us."

"I can but hope and pray that you are right, Mama," he replied, but George was not certain at all. Aurora was intelligent, and that, in his opinion, was the problem. A simple, biddable girl would cry a bit upon learning she was to marry a stranger and leave her family. Then she would rally and do her duty. Even Calandra, his younger sister, while hardly simple, would see the advantages to the kind of marriage Aurora was to have. Cally would pounce upon a duke with delight. He did not think Aurora would. No. She would consider the situation, and then decide what was best for her, for the family. Yet, was not this best for her? George considered. He left his mother and hurried off to wash, for it was almost time for the midday meal. In the upstairs hall he ran into Calandra.

"Sally tells me Captain Young was here this morning," she said to him. "Was he?"

George nodded. "He brought a letter, Cally."

"From where? England? Who was it from? What did it say?" she demanded of him. Calandra Spencer-Kimberly was a very beautiful girl, and used to getting her own way in most things.

"I have absolutely no idea," her brother answered her. "I believe Mama intends to tell us later, when we are all together."

"It must be important, George," Cally decided.

"Let me go and wash," he said. "It's damnably hot out in those fields, and you had best get dressed, or you will miss whatever news Mama has for us, little sister. Where is Aurora?"

"She took Martha and went swimming," came the reply. "I think it's shocking that she still swims in the sea, George, and naked too. Only little children should swim naked, for they know no better. I hate swimming! I always felt so sticky after swimming in the sea."

"You dabbled in the sea," he teased her. "You never liked it like Aurora and I like it, Cally. Well, if Martha's with her, they'll be back in plenty of time for the meal, and Mama's news."

The siblings parted, each to their own room, meeting later in the dining room of the house, where their mother and stepsister already awaited them.

"How can you look so cool on such a hot day?" Calandra grumbled, her hazel eyes taking in Aurora's appearance.

Aurora Kimberly laughed. "Because I've spent the morning shamelessly frolicking in the sea, Cally. It's wonderful, and you should join me instead of lying in bed until almost noon each day."

"My skin is too delicate to expose to the hot sun," Calandra replied. "You know I burn like a lobster, Aurora."

"You don't have to stay out as long as I do," her stepsister replied. "Just a quick swim to cool off, and then back into your clothes. You could swim in the afternoon, when the sun isn't as strong, or in the very early morning just before dawn."

Now it was Calandra who laughed. "You know I'm no fish like you," she teased. "Besides, I'd be mortified if anyone saw me. One day some wicked pirate is going to catch a glimpse of you in the sea and carry you off, Aurora. You had best be more careful."

"No pirate ship could get into my cove," Aurora said smugly, "and there is no one else about to see me, Cally, isn't that right, George? George knows my little cove, don't you?"

"It's safe enough," her stepbrother agreed.

They sat down at the beautiful mahogany dining table, Oralia at its head, her son to her right, and her daughters on her left. A servant ladled clear turtle soup into their dishes. Beyond the table the French doors were opened, the light muslin hangings blowing in the trade winds. The sea, calm, and blue-green, spread itself before them.

Calandra gobbled her soup, then said eagerly, "What was in the letter you received from England today, Mama? Who wrote to you?"

Oralia was not surprised by her daughter's question. Calandra's servant, Sally, had undoubtedly seen Captain Young arrive. "The letter was not addressed to me, but to your father," she told her daughter, keeping her voice calm and well modulated. "It seems that Robert made an arrangement with an old friend in England many years ago that his son and Aurora marry one day. The young man is on his way from England now, and will arrive on the Royal George in a few weeks' time."

"He'd best not get off the boat," Aurora said fiercely.

"Aurora, this is no younger son coming to wed you because you are an heiress and he needs a living. This young man is Valerian Hawkesworth, the Duke of Farminster. He is wealthy, and just the sort of man the heiress to a sugar plantation should marry."

"My God, Aurora!" Calandra's eyes were wide, and not just a hit envious. "You are going to be a duchess!"

"No, I’m not, Cally," came the stubborn reply.

"Aurora, I realize this is a shock to you," her stepmother said. "It was very foolish of your father not tell us of this arrangement at all, particularly before he died so suddenly."

"Papa's horse threw him, Mama," Aurora reminded Oralia. "He could have hardly anticipated that."

"No," Oralia responded, "he could not have anticipated it, but the marriage contract says you are to marry when you are seventeen. You will be seventeen on the sixth of April. Robert might have said something. I do not know when he expected to tell you, my dear, but he is gone, and the duke is on his way to St. Timothy expecting to marry you. Now you know, and we will not discuss it again for a few days so that you may get used to the idea of it all." She smiled at her children, and then said, "Serve the chicken now, Hermes."

"I am not going to get used to it, Mama!" Aurora protested. "I have absolutely no intention of marrying an English duke I never met, and probably won't like anyhow. And I shall have to live in England all the time, and probably go to court to meet that German king. I do not like Germans, Mama. Do you remember that German overseer we once had? He was a horrible man!"

"One cannot judge an entire nation by one man, Aurora. I thought I had taught you better than that. Besides, the king is an old man and will probably not live much longer. His son, Prince George, is said to be kind and lovely. A real Englishman. It will be a young and delightful court that you join, my dear."

"Not I," Aurora said ominously.

"We will discuss it in a few days," Oralia said.

"We will discuss it now, Mama," came the reply. "I am not going to marry a stranger and go to live a life that I should hate in a wet, cold country I have never even seen."

"I would," said Calandra. "To marry a duke, and go to court, I would marry the devil himself! You really are a fool, Aurora. What an opportunity your father has given you, and you are not one bit grateful. If Papa had betrothed me to a duke, I'd wed him in a trice!"

"A stranger, Cally? You would marry some stranger you had never set eyes upon? I think it is you who are the fool!" Aurora said.

"Marriages are always arranged," Calandra answered her stepsister. "So you have never set eyes upon this man. He cannot, surely, be the beast from some fairy tale! And, remember, he has never laid eyes on you either. I'm certain he is wondering during his long days at sea if you are the sort of girl he really wants for a duchess, but he will do his duty, for his father made this match."

"He will gain a sugar plantation and this island for his troubles," Aurora noted.

"And you will gain a duchess's coronet!" Calandra countered.

"I don't want it," Aurora said irritably.

"I wish I had your opportunity, you silly creature," Calandra snapped at her stepsister. "You really are quite spoiled!"

"Do you want this duke, Cally?" Aurora asked the other girl. "Then have him! You marry this Valerian Hawkesworth!"

"Aurora, that is quite impossible," her stepmother said.

"Why?" Aurora demanded. She brushed a tendril of hair from her face where it had fallen. "Have you seen this marriage contract that Papa arranged? What exactly does it say, Mama?"

"Say? Why, I have no idea," Oralia replied.

"George! Go to Papa's library and look in the strongbox he kept by his desk. I will wager a year's crop you will find this marriage contract in that box. Bring it here at once," Aurora commanded her stepbrother. Then she looked directly at her stepmother in a way that discomfited the poor woman. "We will see if there is not some way I cannot wheedle my way out of this situation. Why, the nerve of this duke! He has ignored us all these years, and now, with not so much as a by-your-leave, madam, he announces he is coming to marry mc!"

Calandra giggled. "I will wager a year's crop, if it were mine to wager, that your duke would be horrified to learn what manner of girl you are, Aurora. Men, I am told, do not like forward and fierce women such as yourself. You will have to improve your manners."

"Hah!" her stepsister responded. "The man who marries me will have to accept me for myself. I will not be molded and posed like some clay figurine. Besides, Cally, how would you know what a man wants in a woman. You haven't been off St. Timothy since you arrived from Jamaica, when my father and your mother married. You don't know any more about men than I do!"

"We're totally backward and gauche, the pair of us," Calandra lamented. "I don't know why Papa insisted on making us wait until we were seventeen to have a season in England. Why, he wouldn't even let us go to Jamaica for a visit. We will seem like savages when we are finally allowed out into polite society." She pushed her plate away fretfully. "I find I am no longer hungry, Mama."

George reappeared, clutching a parchment. "You were right," he said, handing it to Aurora and sitting back down. "It was in Papa's strongbox just as you said it would be. Hasn't anyone looked through that box since Papa's death? It is chock-full of papers."

Aurora didn't answer him, instead, opened the missive and read it over carefully. Then, suddenly, a very wide smile brightened her face, and she chuckled wickedly. "Here it is! The answer to my problem, Mama. This contract betroths Charlotte Kimberly to Valerian Hawkesworth. Now, while it is true I was christened Charlotte Aurora, Mama, Calandra was christened Charlotte Calandra. Remember that when you married Papa and came with George and Cally to St. Timothy, it was decided that rather than have two Charlottes, each of us would use our second name to avoid jealousy, or the appearance of favoritism toward either of us. This marriage contract does not say Charlotte Aurora Kimberly. It plainly says only Charlotte Kimberly. So, if Cally wants to marry this duke, she can. He certainly won't know the difference, having never laid eyes on me in his life."

"No! No! Aurora! We couldn't do such a thing," Oralia protested.

"Why not?" came the quick response.

"Well, for one thing," her stepmother said with what she hoped was perfect logic, "the duke is expecting to marry the heiress to St. Timothy, and not a girl with a thousand a year, a thousand pounds in gold, and some jewelry. Calandra's dowry simply wouldn't be good enough for the Duke of Farminster."

"Mama," Aurora countered with equal reason, "if this duke is coming from England to marry Charlotte Kimberly, then it would appear he is a man of principle. If he cannot marry Charlotte Kimberly, I do not believe he will return quietly to England without protest. I am not the attraction for him. How could I be? He knows me not. It is the island and the plantation that hold an appeal for this man, and he will not be satisfied to go home without them. So he must have a Charlotte Kimberly to wife. Cally wants a duke for a husband. I do not know what I want, but I do know I will not be driven to the altar. Cally's inheritance from Papa shall be mine, and I would have one other thing. I want the Meredith plantation house that belonged to my mother's family. Cally will then be this duke's Charlotte Kimberly, and this island and the plantation will be turned over to her husband upon their marriage. Everyone will be happy. The duke will have the island, and Cally will have the duke. It is a perfect answer to our problems."

"You are so very clever, Aurora," her stepmother admitted, "but what if the duke learns of your deception? If indeed I would even allow such a thing. Could it not be considered fraud? No! No! I will not permit such dupery. It is dishonest!"

"Then you face the possibility of having the duke demand we turn over St. Timothy's plantation to him anyhow, and we shall all be dispossessed, homeless, abandoned by all. After all, he is keeping his part of the bargain by coming to marry Charlotte Kimberly. If the bride will not cooperate, do you really expect him to bow, and graciously withdraw, leaving us to our home? Nonsense, Mama! He will be mortally offended. Why, George may even have to fight a duel to death to assuage this duke's honor. Then the duke will demand reparation for his embarrassment and broken heart. Well, it shall not be my fault. I have offered you a reasonable solution to our problem. Don't you want Cally to be a duchess? She'll be a perfect one with her classic features, her marble-white skin, and raven's-wing hair."

Oralia Kimberly bit her lower lip in vexation.

George Spencer-Kimberly shook his head in admiration at his stepsister's devilish cleverness. Then he looked toward Calandra. She was absolutely holding her breath in anticipation.

"Say yes, Mama!" she half whispered, her tone almost desperate.

But Oralia Kimberly held firm. "No," she said. "I cannot permit such a thing. Be reasonable, Aurora. Your father planned this marriage before your birth. If he were alive, we should not be having this conversation at all. I will discuss it no further." She arose from the dining table and hurried from the room.

"I want to be a duchess," Calandra whined.

"You will be," Aurora assured her stepsister.

"You heard what Mama said," George reminded them.

"Mama will change her mind, I promise you," Aurora said with a mischievous grin. "She will have little choice when the duke's ship sails into the harbor and I am still refusing to marry him. When that moment comes, her resoluteness will collapse entirely, for she will be considering what I have said over these next few weeks, George. No matter how honest and good she is, she cannot help but consider how marvelous Cally will look in a duchess's jewels; or of how much she will enjoy visiting Jamaica, and boasting of her daughter, the Duchess of Farminster." Aurora laughed, and then she stood up from the table. "We really must begin considering your wedding gown, Cally."

Calandra pushed her chair back. "Do you really think we can persuade Mama, Aurora?" She stood.

"You just leave it to me, little sister" was the answer.

"Do not call me little sister! We are both to be seventeen," Cally protested.

"But my birthday is April sixth, and yours is June first. That makes me the elder by two months," Aurora teased her stepsister.

"Oh, you!" Calandra giggled. Then she said, "What do you think this duke is like, Aurora?"

"He is undoubtedly most arrogant, and overweening proud" came the reply. "Not once in all my life has he communicated with me, nor, do I believe, did he ever write to Papa."

"Did you ever consider," George said quietly, "that perhaps he did not know he was to be married either? There are letters in Papa's strongbox from a James Hawkesworth. I told you that I don't believe anyone has looked through that box since Papa died. Certainly Mama didn't. God only knows what else is there. Shall we go and look?"

"Yes! Yes!" his sisters chorused in unison, and the trio made their way from the dining room to the late Robert Kimberly's beautiful paneled study.

Settling themselves on the floor, they dragged the box into their midst. Opening it, George Spencer-Kimberly pulled forth a packet of letters tied with hemp twine. Undoing the binding, he opened the first of the letters which was on the bottom, and perused it.

"This is the first letter from James Hawkesworth. He seems to be the Third Duke of Farminster. He writes to tell Papa that his son, Charles, has been drowned with his wife and daughter in a boating accident. His grandson, Valerian, he says, was not with them, and although the boy is devastated by the loss, he will recover. He says he is glad that his son made this match between their families, and that he will make certain that the obligation is honored when little Charlotte is grown. He asks after her."

"How touching," Aurora said dryly.

"I think he sounds like a nice old man," Cally ventured to add.

"So," her elder sister said, "we know that Valerian Hawkesworth's parents and sisters are dead, and that he was raised by his grandfather."

"And grandmother," George corrected her. "James Hawkesworth mentions his wife. He wrote to Papa twice a year. In June, and in December. From the tone of his letters, Papa obviously wrote him back, passing on news of the family, and how you were growing up, Aurora."

"Does this old duke ever refer to me as Aurora?" she asked.

"I will have to read through all the letters," George replied, "but from what I can see, it would appear not."

"What does he say about the grandson?" Aurora's aquamarine-blue eyes were thoughtful, and her brow just slightly furrowed.

"Not a great deal. Wait, here is something! It's in the last letter, which was written June last. There is no December letter."

"Of course not. The old man obviously died," Aurora noted. "Well, come, George, and tell us what the June letter says."

"It is not very long. You know, it would appear that the old duke wrote Papa in his own hand, and did not use a secretary. The writing is quite spidery."

My dear Robert,

I have not been well these last months. It would seem that passing one's seventieth birthday takes a toll on the health. From my calculations, it would appear that little Charlotte has celebrated her sixteenth birthday. The contract between our two families calls for the marriage of your daughter and my grandson to be celebrated next year after Charlotte's seventeenth birthday. Valerian has grown into as fine a man as one could wish. I will tell him soon of the arrangement made between his father and you all those years ago. He will come for your daughter next spring, but we shall have to correspond before that, of course. My good wife sends greetings to you and your family. I remain, as ever, James Hawkesworth, Third Duke of Farminster.

George lay the letter aside and said, "You see, Aurora, your duke knew nothing about this marriage between you. He was as much in the dark as you were."

"There is no further correspondence?"

"Only the letter Mama received this morning," George replied.

"Where is it?" Aurora demanded to know.

Calandra jumped up, crying, "Here! On Papa's desk! Mama has lain it there by force of habit." Her hazel eyes scanned the missive quickly. Then she read:

"To Robert Kimberly.

It is with grieving heart that I write to tell you of my husband's passing in early November. His. heir, our grandson, Valerian, has assumed his duties as the Fourth Duke of Farminster. I see from James's correspondence with you that the time approaches for the marriage between your daughter, Charlotte, and Valerian. My grandson will sail February the tenth from Plymouth aboard the Royal George. We look forward to receiving Charlotte into the family, and I will do my best to see she is made comfortable. And please reassure Charlotte that I will personally advise her, and train her in her new duties as Duchess of Farminster. Please know that you and your family will always be welcome at Hawkes Hill Hall. I remain, Mary Rose Hawkesworth, Dowager Duchess of Farminster.

"Oh, my!" Calandra sighed. "Doesn't it all sound grand? I wonder what a duchess's duties are, Aurora. Do you think I can do them?"

"Just more manners, I suspect," Aurora reassured her stepsister, "and you are wonderously clever at learning the civilities, decorums, and etiquette of society, Cally. I cannot be bothered with such folderol."

George had been going through the previous duke's correspondence as his sisters spoke. Now he said, "There is no mention of you being called Aurora, my clever little sister. The bride is mentioned only as Charlotte in all the correspondence."

"But what if Papa referred to her in his letters as Aurora?" Calandra suggested. "What will we do then?"

"Since this duke wasn't aware of the marriage plans his family made," Aurora said slowly, "it is unlikely he has ever seen the letters Papa wrote to his grandfather. I question if the old duke even kept the correspondence between them. His lady wife does not seem overly familiar with the situation, I divine."

"Papa kept the letters he received," Calandra pointed out.

"Yes," Aurora agreed, "but it was more in Papa's interest to keep them in the event the Hawkesworth family attempted to cry off, or conveniently forget the betrothal and marry off their heir to a wealthier heiress. Papa's letters from the duke would have given him grounds for an action in the courts should he have felt the Kimberly honor besmirched. You know how proud Papa was of the family."

"We can find no evidence the duke knows he was betrothed to Charlotte Aurora," George said. "I believe it is worth taking the chance of marrying him to Cally. How can he possibly find out that a switch has been made?"

"And if he does," Aurora said, "it is to be hoped that by that time he will harbor some tender feeling for Cally, and that she will have borne him an heir. Besides, he will have St. Timothy Plantation. What will he have lost by our little ruse?" She smiled at her stepbrother. "I am so glad you agree with me, George."

"I do not know if I agree with you at all," the young man answered her, "but I do know that once you have set your mind to something, Aurora, you will not change it easily, if at all. I think you are being foolish, because I believe you to be frightened of this sudden shift in your life. Papa wanted you to have this marriage, but if you will not have it, then I can do nothing more than attempt to see the family is not endangered by your foolish action. The duke shall have a Charlotte Kimberly to wed even if it is not the correct Charlotte Kimberly."

"Papa would be very proud of you, George," Aurora told him. "He always said he wished he were your natural father instead of just your stepfather. He loved you and Cally every bit as much as he loved me. That is why he legally adopted you and gave you his name as well as that of your own dead father. I wish he had left you St. Timothy instead of leaving it to me. Then nothing would have ever changed."

George reached out and took Aurora's hand in his. "I might bear Papa's name, little sister, but I am not of his blood. It was blood that made his decision for him. As you have already said, he was proud of his family. I am well provided for, God knows, and he has requested in his will that the duke continue my tenure as manager and overseer of St. Timothy. I am good at it, Aurora! There is no reason the duke will not honor Papa's request, and as long as the plantation remains prosperous, he will have no cause for complaint, will he?"

Calandra settled herself back down on the floor with her two siblings, resting her head on her brother's shoulder. The trio had been together for almost their entire lifetime, and loved one another dearly. If Oralia and Robert Kimberly had worried that their children would not get on, it was a notion dismissed in the first few minutes of their meeting, when Aurora had struggled from her nanny's arms and run down the dock to welcome her new stepmother and siblings to St. Timothy. It seemed to those watching that the child was greeting her natural mother, brother, and sister, who had been away but a time. There had never been any jealousy between any of them.

"Then we are agreed," Aurora said. "Cally will marry the duke, bringing with her the plantation as a dowry. I will have Cally's portion from Papa, and my mother's family home. And George will have what Papa left him, and remain as manager."

"You are absolutely certain this is what you want?" George questioned her. "Once Cally has been introduced to the duke as his bride, there can be no going back, Aurora. You do understand that?"

She nodded. "I want to marry a man who loves me, George, not a man who is obligated to marry me. I know there are some who would think me a fool for it, but I do not care. I will go to England with Cally and the duke and see if I can find a gentleman who will love me. If I do not, then I shall return to St. Timothy to my own home."

"Very well, then," George Spencer-Kimberly said. "Then it is indeed agreed between us that this is the course of action we shall take. I hope that the duke never finds out our little ruse."

"What of Mama?" Cally said. "She says she will not cooperate."

"Aurora is right," George replied. "When the duke's vessel sails into the harbor, Mama will have no choice but to go along with us. If she does not, she risks everything. I do not like making her unhappy, but if Aurora will not have her duke, then this is the best direction for us to take if we are to preserve the family."

The brother and his two sisters joined hands.

"Together," said George.

"Forever," said Cally.

"As one!" Aurora responded, finishing the pledge of allegiance they had made up as children and repeated whenever they did something together that they considered important.

"Then it is settled," Cally said, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes," Aurora agreed.

"And you shall be the duke's duchess," George chuckled. "What a treat London society has in store for it."

"I shall be a wonderful duchess," Cally told him. "I shall have all the beautiful gowns I want! And jewelry! And I shall dance till dawn every night with all the handsome gentlemen!"

"First, however," her brother reminded her, "you will have to produce an heir for the duke. That will be your primary duty. It is your insurance should Valerian Hawkesworth ever find out you are not who you should be, little sister."

"Fiddlesticks, George! It will make no difference if he finds out one day. He will have St. Timothy anyway. There is plenty of time for babies, and being stuck in some country mansion just as isolated as our island home is not my idea of being a grand duchess. Any woman can have babies! I want to go to London and see the king! Do not distress yourselves. I shall make my duke fall madly in love with me. Then he will allow me to do whatever I want, for he will desire to please me at all times else I withdraw my love from him." She giggled. "Ohhh, I cannot wait to be a duchess!"

"What a heartless little hussy you will be." Aurora laughed. "You had best not let Mama hear you speaking this way. It will give her a terrible attack of the vapors, I fear."

"I love Mama," Calandra admitted, "but it will be so nice not to have her telling me what to do all the time."

"You will have the old dowager telling you what to do instead," her brother teased her.

"Another reason for staying in London," Calandra countered.

And the three of them laughed, while outside the study, a sudden afternoon squall blew in from the sea to pepper the windows with warm rain.

Chapter 2

The Duke of Farminster stood at the rail of the Royal George as it made its way around the island of St. Timothy. The only bay suitable for landing was on the far side of the island, away from the shipping lanes. In the last few days he had been treated to all manner of topography as they sailed among the islands of the western Indies. Many of the islands were mountainous, some were flat, but this island seemed to have a broad plain all about it, with a spine of rolling hills in the center running the length of the island. The cane fields were lush and green, and he was not just a little impressed.

"They're harvesting. It's the season," the captain said, coming to stand by his side. "The island is about eighty square miles in size, about half of Barbados, and smaller than Grenada. Do you know anything about it, your grace?"

"Precious little," Valerian Hawkesworth replied. "I know the two families who were given the grant by King Charles were related to mine by marriage. My bride, and her father, are the last of them."

"The families kept in touch with England, then. Many of them don't, y'know. They go native," the captain noted disapprovingly.

"No, our branches kept in touch. My father and Mr. Kimberly were at Oxford together, which is how the match came about between myself and Miss Kimberly. Is there a town on the island, Captain Conway?"

The seaman shook his head. "Nay, your grace. St. Timothy was Kimberly and Meredith property. They grow sugar cane, and nothing else is done with the land. Besides, who would live here, and what sort of business could a man employ his time with on an island like this? Other than the family, and a few bond servants, there are only blacks."

The duke nodded in response and gazed out over the blue-green sea. The island was beautiful, but was it profitable? Was this Kimberly girl really a good match? His grandmother has assumed that the Kimberlys were rich, but were they? The island's whole subsistence depended upon a good sugar crop. He would, he decided, want to go over the books, and speak with Mr. Kimberly as soon as possible. If the plantation did not make an excellent profit, they must consider the possibility of a cash dower. The ship entered the bay. He could see the warehouses and docks along the shore.

"Do they ship their sugar to England from here?" he asked Captain Conway.

"They ship to Barbados, and from there to England. The cargo ships can't be bothered with a small island like this one, and don't call. It's the same all over the Indies, but St. Timothy is in an excellent location, your grace. It can ship cheaper than the plantations in Jamaica because the trade winds blow more convenient here than there."

"I can see I have a great deal to learn," the duke replied.

"Do you intend remaining here, then, your grace?" That would certainly be odd, the captain thought, unless, of course, this nobleman had murdered someone and needed to be out of England for a time.

"No, but if this plantation is to come to me through my bride, sir, it would be advisable for me to know about how it is run. I would not like to lose Miss Kimberly's dowry through ignorance or carelessness. I do not run my stud farms like that, and I will certainly not allow this plantation to be run that way."

Interesting, the captain thought. A milord who actually involved himself in the making of money. "You will have no difficulty then, your grace," Captain Conway said. "St. Timothy is run by Mr. Kimberly himself, aided by his stepson, Mr. George Spencer-Kimberly, a fine young man, I can tell you." He bowed to the duke. "You will excuse me, your grace. I must go and see to our landing."

The duke bowed in return, and watched the captain hurry off. Miss Kimberly had a stepbrother who helped run the plantation. Well, if he did indeed prove to be a fine young man, and he was interested in remaining on St. Timothy, there would be nothing to worry about when his father-in-law went to his reward many years hence. I wonder, Valerian Hawkesworth thought to himself, what kind of an income Kimberly has settled on my bride in the years until she comes into her inheritance.

His eyes went to the large house upon the crest of a high hill overlooking the harbor. It was very white, and appeared to be open in front. It was a style of architecture with which he was unfamiliar. It didn't look like any house he had ever seen. He would be interested to see it close up. The low boom of a cannon startled him.

"Not to worry, yer grace," his cabin steward told him, coming to the duke's side. "It's just that little gun of ours letting yer in-laws know yer here. Not that yer young lady isn't watching us from her window right now, for I'll wager she is," he chuckled broadly.

"They're here!" Calandra shrieked excitedly. "Did you hear the arrival cannon? Look! Down in the harbor! The Royal George is sailing in right now! Oh, I think I am going to swoon! My duke is here! He's here!" She collapsed into a chair, fanning herself with her handkerchief. "I do not think I can bear the excitement!"

"I am not going to allow you three to bully me," Oralia Kimberly said, but there was no iron in her voice. "You cannot do this! It is dishonest, and it is wrong! George!" She appealed to her son.

"I am sorry, Mama, but we have been over and over this for the last month. Cally will marry the duke. It is the only way. If you attempt to tell the duke the truth, I shall say Papa's death unhinged you and you do not know your own stepdaughter, or daughter, any longer. Then we will lock you away until the duke and Cally are wed and departed for England. Now, I must go down to the docks to greet our guest." He turned on his heel and left her.

"You are cruel, George!" she cried after him, but Oralia knew it was no use. The three young people had decided a course of action between them, and they would follow it through. If she interfered, George was quite capable of following through on his threat; and even if the duke believed her, Aurora was equally capable of telling him that she didn't want to marry him. Then where would they all be?

Aurora caught Calandra's eye. Her look plainly said, See! I told you we would win. "Come, little sister," she said sweetly, "you cannot greet your duke looking like that. We'll have to hurry. Will you excuse us, Mama?"

Oralia waved them away. "Yes, yes," she said. She needed time to compose herself, for while this deception might not distress her children, she was quite upset by their actions. If only Robert had not died, she thought despairingly for the thousandth time in the last four weeks. But Robert was dead. She had no choice but to follow her children's lead. Perhaps they were right. What real harm was there in what they were doing? Would it not be wickeder to force Aurora into a marriage she didn't want? Especially when Calandra was so willing to take her place? Her daughter a duchess! Oralia bit her lip in vexation. No! They were wrong! But there was no help for it. What would Robert think of all of this? She shuddered. She knew what Robert would think, but, "Damnation!" the word slipped out, Robert wasn't here, and it had always been next to impossible for her to control the three children. Robert had been the one to do that, and now he was gone from her side, leaving her to cope with an impossible situation. I will not cry, Oralia thought desperately. Calandra a duchess!

Upstairs the two girls and their servants were all hurrying to get ready for the Duke of Farminster's arrival. Calandra bathed in her tub, behind a painted screen. The air was heavy with her favorite scent, a mixture of tuberose and gardenia. Sally, her personal maid, was, under Aurora's direction, laying out her young mistress's clothing. Finally satisfied with her selection, Aurora withdrew to her own bedroom to change her clothing.

"Yer a fool, and yer papa would be furious if he knew what you was doing," her servant, Martha, said. "There is still time to change yer mind, Mistress Aurora. A man is a man, and while some are better than the others, in the end they're all alike, I say."

"Martha, do not scold me over this," Aurora replied. "I really don't want to marry anyone at this time. Even if this duke were willing to wait a year or two, what if I don't like him? No, this is a better solution all around, for me, for Cally, for all of us."

"And what if you do like him?" Martha demanded.

"I hope I shall like him as a brother-in-law, as a friend, but now that he is to be my sister's husband, there is no chance of anything else, Martha. Certainly you understand that."

The servant pursed her lips in mute disapproval. She had come to St. Timothy as a bondswoman shortly after Aurora's birth. Because she was not a criminal, and because she was mannerly, Emily Kimberly had purchased her to care for her newborn daughter. Martha's offense in the eyes of English law was that she was poor. When her parents had died she had been evicted from the family cottage by their landlord. It had been the local vicar who had suggested she indenture herself for a period of seven years, and give herself a chance at a better life in the new world. Martha had followed his advice, putting herself into the hands of the vicar's brother, a decent man who saw his bondspeople placed with good families who would not abuse them. She had served as Aurora's nanny when she was a child, and remained on when her term of servitude ended, as a free woman and Aurora's personal servant.

"I've set out a fresh gown for you," she told her young mistress.

"Oh, don't be cross with me, Martha," Aurora said, hugging the older woman. "It really is all for the best, you know."

Martha shook the girl off. "Now, don't you go thinking you can wheedle me like you can Mistress Oralia and Master George, because you can't. If your papa were here, you would have to do what you was told, and no nonsense about it. Now, go wash. I put your basin and sponge in the dressing room. I've set out that pretty blue-gray cotton gown for you to wear like you said. Even with those lovely lace engageants, it's too plain. I don't know why you want to wear it to meet this duke."

"Because I don't want to outshine Calandra," Aurora said. "We want the duke's whole attention upon her today."

"You had best tell her not to giggle so much," Martha remarked sourly. "It makes her sound like a little fool, not that she ain't for going along with you in this foolishness."

Aurora hid her smile as she entered the dressing room. The window at its end looked out on the bay, and she could see the ship slowly making its way toward the docks. St. Timothy had a deep water mooring, and a ship could come close to the shore, unlike other islands, where the ships had to moor in the harbors itself and the passengers or goods ferried to and fro. Slipping out of her gown, she sponged herself off with the perfumed water Martha had set out. Then, drying herself, she put on the blue-gray cotton gown with its round scooped neckline, and graceful skirts that fell over her stiffened petticoats. The lace engageants, or ruffles, fell from her three-quarter sleeves.

"Come and fasten me up, Martha," she called. Then she gazed at her image in the long mirror. Her skin had a faint golden and rosy look to it that set off her aquamarine-blue eyes and brown-gold hair. While she protected herself from the sun most of the time, she was not fanatic about her skin like Calandra. Calandra was inordinately proud of her marble-white skin which she went to great lengths to protect, never going out in the sunlight without a broad-brimmed hat upon her head, her arms covered, lace mittens upon her hands. Aurora had to admit, however, that the fair skin, hazel eyes, and black hair Calandra possessed made quite a striking appearance.

"Come along, miss," Martha said, interrupting Aurora's thoughts, "come, and let me do your hair proper."

Proper to Martha meant an elegant little chignon in the back of Aurora's head, and two ringlets apiece upon either side of her face. Calandra favored the chignon, and a single long ringlet on the left side of her face, convinced that her left side was her better profile, and needed attention drawn to it. Calandra was sweet but vain, Aurora thought to herself. She's just what I imagine a duchess should be. Her eyes strayed again to the windows of her bedroom, and she wished that she had a spyglass to seek out George as he greeted the duke.

George Spencer-Kimberly watched as the Royal George was made fast to the docks, and when the gangway was lowered he hurried up it. "Captain Conway, it's good to see you again, sir! You've brought a passenger for us, I believe." His eyes strayed to the tall gentleman by the captain's side. Black hair. Black, no, dark blue eyes. Rugged features. Hard body. Not quite what he had been expecting in an English duke. He had thought a softer type, but this man did not look soft. For a brief moment George Spencer-Kimberly reconsidered the deception about to be played on this man and wondered if it was wise, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Aye, Mr. Kimberly," the captain said. "I've your passenger for you, sir. I would have thought your father would be here to greet him."

"My father passed away unexpectedly the day after Christmas," George replied. "A sudden burst of thunder, and a lightning bolt too near his horse. The beast reared up, throwing Papa, killing him instantly."

" ‘Pon my soul!" the captain exclaimed. "What a tragedy!" Then, remembering his duty, he said, "Mr. Kimberly, may I present to you, his grace, the Duke of Farminster. Your grace. Mr. George Spencer-Kimberly."

The two men shook hands, the duke taking in the measure of the young man before him. Not quite his own height. Stocky. Pleasant-looking with blue eyes and brown hair. A firm handshake, the hands slightly callused. No idler this young fellow.

"Mr. Kimberly, allow me to present my condolences to you. Had I but known of your loss, I should have delayed my journey," Valerian Hawkesworth said politely.

"Since we knew nothing of you, your grace, prior to your grandmother's letter, we could not have stopped you," George replied, his eyes twinkling with ill-disguised humor. "Were you yourself aware of your, um, obligation to my sister?"

The duke laughed, appreciating the younger man's wit. "No, sir, I was as taken aback by the situation as I have no doubt your sister was. Am I right?"

George nodded with a grin. "There is a cart for your man and your baggage. I brought a horse for you, sir. We can talk as we ride up to the house together."

"Agreed!" the duke responded, then he turned and spoke to his valet, instructing him as if the man had not already heard George. When he had finished he said to Captain Conway, "You will stop to board my bride and myself when you return to England as we discussed?"

"Aye, sir," the captain replied. " 'Twill be in two and a half weeks. If there's any delay, I get a message to you."

The two men departed the vessel.

Unable to help himself, George said, "You don't intend remaining long on St. Timothy, do you? I think Mama will be quite distressed."

"The Royal George is the finest passenger ship traveling between England and these islands, Mr. Kimberly. I do not wish Charlotte's wedding voyage to be less than comfortable. If we do not return to England on its return trip, we shall have to wait several months for it to come again. I believe at that point we shall be facing your stormy season. I would not distress your mother, but I think it best my bride and I leave as soon as we can." The duke swung himself into the saddle, gathering the reins into his hand.

"I think," said George as he mounted his own horse, "that I should explain to you that my stepsister is not known as Charlotte. She is known by her second name, Calandra."

"Why?" Valerian Hawkesworth asked.

"When our mother married our stepfather, Cally and Mama's daughter were just under three years of age. Both had been christened with the same first name, Charlotte. Our parents decided that the girls would be known by their second names, Calandra and Aurora. That is why the marriage contract, at least our copy, gives the bride's name only as Charlotte," George finished, tensing just slightly as he waited for the duke's comment.

"Indeed," the duke said dryly. "So my bride is known as Calandra? 'Tis an elegant name. Is she an elegant girl, Mr. Kimberly?"

"My stepsister is certainly an attractive girl, and I suppose with the right gowns and hairstyles she might be elegant one day, but Cally is just an innocent island maiden. You will have to be the judge of that, your grace."

"You will call me Valerian, and I will call you George, sir," the duke answered him. "And what is your sister like?"

"A pretty chit," George said. "Aurora is a law unto herself though." He chuckled.

The horses moved up from the harbor along the dusty dirt road to the house on the hillside. Now the duke could see the building better. The open front was in reality a spacious veranda. The ground floor windows were long. All the windows belonging to the house had heavy wooden shutters on either side of them. To protect them in the fierce storms he had heard about from Captain Conway undoubtedly. On either side of the roadway the land was thick and lush with green growth such as he had never seen. Vines entwined with brightly colored flowers attracted his eyes. The trees were filled with scarlet, green, blue, and gold birds of a most exotic nature. The heat was pleasant, but he had never before known anything like it, and the winds that seemed to constantly blow were softer, sweeter, and had just a hint of dampness.

"Is your manager, and your overseer satisfactory?" the duke asked George. "How have you managed since your stepfather's death?"

"My father," George replied, "ran St. Timothy himself. He didn't approve of those men who allowed others to handle their affairs, leaving them free to pursue a life of pleasure. I was five and a half when we first came here from Jamaica. On my sixth birthday my father took me out with him when he made his rounds. I went with him every day after that. I am nineteen now, and have been handling the plantation's books ever since I ceased my formal education at the age of sixteen. My father meant for me to eventually run St. Timothy in its entirety. With his death, however, the ownership passed to Cally, and will pass to you upon your marriage to my stepsister. If you wish to bring your own man to take over the running of the plantation, I will give him my full cooperation, Valerian. You have my word on it."

"There is no need for a stranger to be introduced here, George," the duke responded. "I will never live here, for my life is in England, but I agree with your father in the matter of absentee ownership of an estate. I would like you to remain here, if it pleases you, to run the plantation as your father did. When I have gone over the books, we will decide upon a fair rate of remuneration for your services. After all, you will one day want to take a wife, and will need to support her. The plantation will one day become the property of one of the children Calandra and I produce. Perhaps a second son would favor it. We will both rest easy knowing St. Timothy is in good hands. Do you think this arrangement will be satisfactory to you?"

"Aye, Valerian!" George said enthusiastically. This was really working out quite well, he thought to himself, pleased, and Mama would be delighted to know she should not be discommoded in any way. "There is one thing you should know," George continued. "The old Meredith plantation house, which is located on the other side of the island. It came to Papa through his second wife, Emily Meredith. Papa left it to Aurora along with an income. There is no real land with it. Only the land upon which the house sits, but Papa thought she would want her own home should she marry one day. Her inheritance, and her income along with the house, make her a good choice for a respectable young man of good family. Mama is sending her to England with you and Cally."

A husband-hunting sister-in-law? Valerian Hawkesworth frowned. He did not need or want such an encumbrance on his honeymoon 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 to England will be our honeymoon voyage, and you will understand that I prefer to make that trip in the company of my bride alone. I shall not allow Calandra to be afraid, ma'am, but we must have time to get to know each other."

"Can you not do that over the next few months here on St. Timothy?" Oralia asked him. "You will certainly be given your privacy, Valerian."

George caught Aurora's eye, and waited for the duke to answer.

"I intend returning to England almost immediately, ma'am," the duke replied. "The Royal George is the finest passenger ship making the trip between England and the western Indies. If we do not board it on its eastbound return, we shall have to wait for several months to catch it again. By that time your stormy season will be upon us. This is an excellent time of year to travel this particular route, and I want Calandra's ocean voyage to be a perfect one. The Royal George will stop at St. Timothy in two and a half weeks' time to pick us up. I have previously arranged with Captain Conway to bring the Anglican minister from Barbados with him. He will marry Calandra and me that same day here in this house. I will then rely upon your kindness to return the minister to Barbados even as we sail for England."

"Oh, my!" Oralia said, distressed by his words.

He was sooo masterful, Cally thought admiringly of the duke.

"I realize that this comes as somewhat of a shock, ma'am, but you must know that I knew nothing of this marriage until shortly after my grandfather's death last autumn. I do not want to miss the racing season. England will be coming into summer, which while nowhere near as warm as here, will give Calandra a chance to grow used to our climate before the winter. It will also give me the opportunity to introduce Calandra into society. The Prince of Wales is a fine fellow, and there has been talk recently of his marrying. There will be much gaiety, and Calandra will enjoy it until such time as she is with child."

"She hasn't a proper wardrobe," Oralia protested. "There has been virtually no time to prepare a trousseau."

"St. Timothy's is not aware of the latest fashions," he replied. "I will have a brand-new wardrobe made for my wife in London. And one for Miss Spencer-Kimberly as well that will be awaiting her upon her arrival the following month." He patted Oralia's hand comfortingly. "You must not fret yourself, ma'am. I will take splendid care of your daughter. After all, she is to be the Duchess of Farminster."

Cally jumped up, clapping her hands with delight! "Oh, yes, Mama! Imagine! A brand-new wardrobe for me, and one for Aurora too! The latest London fashions!" She turned to the duke. "Will I have wonderful jewelry too, sir? And a coach and four? And a wench to help my Sally? Will we see the king? Will your horses race? May I have pin money to wager upon them?" Her pale cheeks were pink with excitement.

"Calandra!" Her shocked mother could barely speak.

Aurora and George were astounded, for they had never before heard Cally so enthusiastic. They didn't know if they dare laugh.

Valerian Hawkesworth, however, did laugh. It was a deep rumble of mirth that filled the room. What an enchanting child, he thought, this girl he was to marry shortly. His late father's meddling had, it seemed, turned out well after all. He arose from the settee, taking Cally's hands in his and smiling down at her indulgently. "Yes, my precious Calandra," he said boldly. "You shall have everything that your little heart desires from me, and more, I promise you!"

He had spoken her name. "Ohhh, Valerian!" she murmured, looking up at him for a moment before the thick, dark lashes brushed her snowy white cheeks. Then she said, "I shall never be fearful of anything as long as you are with me." She gazed up at him again, her hazel eyes limpid. "Would you like to see our garden?"

George Spencer-Kimberly choked back a snicker even as Aurora rolled her eyes heavenward unbelievingly.

"What a lovely idea!" Oralia pounced upon her daughter's suggestion. "I will call Sally to bring you a hat and your mitts, my child." She stood up. "Come, Aurora, George. Let us leave these young people alone." Then she hurried from the drawing room, her son and stepdaughter following.

"Oh, la, sir! You have quite stolen my heart!" Aurora mocked her stepsister, fluttering her lashes at George.

"Quite, Miss Kimberly! Quite so!" George responded, kissing Aurora's hand with a loud smacking noise, and twirling her about.

"Stop it, the pair of you," Oralia scolded.

"But Cally is being so silly," Aurora said.

"She's a young, inexperienced girl, and but following her heart. She is quite overwhelmed by the duke, and I think that he is taken by her, for which I thank the good Lord. Especially"-and here she lowered her voice-"especially considering what you two have done. I can only hope, Aurora, that you have no regrets now."

"None, Mama" came the quick reply. "Cally is quite welcome to the duke. I find him arrogant and odious."

"He is to be your host in England. You will have to be mannerly," Oralia said, and then, "Oh! You cannot travel alone to England!"

"Martha will be with me," Aurora reminded her.

"No! No! It will not do, my child. Martha is a servant. No respectable young woman of good family travels alone but for a servant."

"I am just as happy to remain here, Mama," Aurora told her. Oralia shook her head. "You must be married eventually, Aurora. Most of the planters' sons are dissolute creatures involved with their slave women, and with St. Timothy you would not have a great deal of choice despite your dowry and income. The heirs are looking for heiresses, and must find them in England, or France, where their wicked practices are not known, and they appear respectable to a discerning parent. No. You must go to England to find a mate. There your little fortune will be acceptable to some baronet of good breeding." She thought for a moment, and then she said, "George shall go with you! That is the solution to our problem. It is quite acceptable for you to travel under the protection of an elder brother. And perhaps George will find a nice young wife while he is in England. We must ask the duke if he knows which ship follows the Royal George, and then see that the passage is booked on it for you both."

"The harvest will not quite be over if I leave so soon," George protested. "And who the devil will oversee the planting, Mama? I cannot leave now. The duke has asked me to remain as his manager and overseer. I have responsibilities to him, and to my sister."

"You have a greater responsibility to Aurora," his mother responded meaningfully. "She must have her chance too!"

"I do not have to follow on Cally's heels to England, Mama," Aurora said sensibly. "Let her and the duke settle into married life. George can finish the harvest and see to the new planting. Then in late autumn he and I can depart for England. It will be over a year before the new crop is ready to harvest, which will give him plenty of time to be a young gentleman of fashion, perhaps even a macaroni, in London. And I shall have a lovely visit with Cally before we have to return home to St. Timothy for the next harvest." She smiled at her stepmother. "Isn't that really a better plan, Mama? Let the duke sweep Cally off to England and her new life without our interference. He will have little love for his in-laws if they land on him too quickly."

"But you will be almost eighteen then," Oralia objected weakly.

Aurora laughed. "Oh, Mama, I'm certain there will be someone willing to overlook my vast age in exchange for my dowry."

"You are quite impossible," Oralia said. "I wonder if you will ever find a man to put up with you." But she smiled as she spoke.

"I'd rather be with you here on St. Timothy" came the reply.

"Does Aurora's plan suit you, George?" Oralia asked her son.

"Aye, it does," he agreed.

"Then it is settled," Aurora said, and they all agreed it was.

^{Chapter 3}

The duke's valet, Browne, awakened him quite early, as his master had requested he do. While the sky was light, the sun was not yet up. The air was warm and quite still for a change. He bathed and dressed quickly, for he was to ride with George and Aurora before the sun became too hot for his inspection. By ten o'clock in the morning George told him the heat would be too much for him, as he was unused to it.

Browne handed him a deep saucer. "A bit of tea, sir. The cook was kind enough to make it up. The family stock is really quite palatable. We may not be in civilization, but it ain't bad here but for the heat. I hardly closed my eyes all night."

"You'll be quite used to it by the time we leave, Browne," Valerian Hawkesworth said with a smile. He drank the fragrant tea, setting the saucer down on a small table when he had emptied it.

"Master George sent up this hat for you to wear, sir." Browne handed the duke the broad-brimmed straw head covering, remarking, "It surely ain't fashionable, is it, my lord?"

Clapping the hat on his dark head, the duke picked up his riding crop and left his bedroom. In the airy downstairs foyer he found his two companions waiting. He was a bit surprised to see that Miss Spencer-Kimberly was wearing breeches. "You do not ride sidesaddle?" he said.

"Of course not," she said. "The terrain is rough on the island. It is not some tame London park, your grace. Do all English ladies of fashion ride seated, their leg thrown awkwardly over their saddle's pommel? It is an extremely uncomfortable way to ride. I firmly believe that is why Cally never took to a horse. She is of a delicate nature, and felt unsafe seated so unnaturally. Still, I could never get her to ride astride. She thought it not feminine." The look she gave him challenged him to agree with her stepsister.

"I believe," Valerian Hawkesworth said, neatly sidestepping the issue, "that as we are to be related by marriage, Miss Spencer-Kimberly, that you should call me something other than your grace. I shall call you Aurora, and you may call me Valerian."

"Oh, may I?" Aurora said, her eyes wide, her voice unnaturally sweet. She fluttered her lashes at him.

"Sister, behave yourself!" George scolded her. "Valerian isn't used to your sharp tongue and teasing ways." He grinned at the duke. "She's quite a minx, I fear. Papa never quite knew what to do with her. He doted on both the girls, and both are spoiled."

"I think I know what I should have done with her," the duke said, his dark blue eyes hard. "I suspect Aurora has never felt a hard hand on her bottom. It reforms the worst jades."

George saw the fire in her eyes and said quickly, "We must be off. The sun will be up before we know it! Come along now."

"I know nothing about sugar except that it is sweet," Valerian said to his companions. "Tell me about it as we ride."

"It's a never-ending round-robin of labor," George said. "We have four large fields on this side of the island, and four on the other side, which once belonged to the Meredith family. We rotate the fields. This year we are harvesting on this side of the island, and the other side is fallow, but being constantly fertilized, for cane takes a great deal of nourishment from the soil. We harvest every eighteen months. In a year, before the one side is ready for harvesting, we replant on the other side. The fallow fields need to be weeded in the between times. During the rainy season, usually between May and December, we plant. In the dry season, usually from January to May, we harvest our crop. We are never idle."

"How is cane planted?" the duke asked.

"We propagate, using cuttings from the tops of mature plants. The slaves dig holes and fertilize. Our father's father planted in long trenches, but now everyone holes because it prevents the soil from eroding and conserves moisture. Once the cane is planted, it is a constant round of fertilizing and weeding until the cane is cut."

"How many slaves do you have?"

George thought a moment, and then he said sheepishly, "I don't know. Enough to do the work, of course."

"How many new slaves are required to be bought each year? I have been told that the mortality rate on sugar plantations is extraordinarily high due to the hard work and harsh conditions," the duke remarked. As they approached the fields, he could already see black men and women at work, cutting and stacking the cane.

"The mortality rate on St. Timothy is relatively low but for old age and an occasional accident." Aurora spoke up now. "Papa hated slavery. Had he been able to run the plantation without slaves, he would have done so, but he realized it was not realistic. He did the next best thing. He gave them decent housing and food. We have trained one of their own to doctor them. Field slaves work hard, but our slaves are not overworked, and Sunday is a day of rest for everyone on St. Timothy, free, bond, and slave alike. Consequently, our slave women bear live children who grow up to work in the fields next to their fathers. I cannot remember the last time a slave was bought. It is not like that on neighboring islands and plantations. Under English law the slaves have absolutely no rights at all. A master can kill a slave for no cause and still be within his rights. It's horrible! Those poor blacks are worked around the clock until they die, and their owners care not. The slavers call regularly from Africa, bringing new consignments of unfortunate souls to be used, and then disposed of without thought. It is outrageous! But we do not do that here on St. Timothy."

She spoke with such passion that she surprised him. He had thought her merely sharp-tongued and spoiled, but Aurora, it would seem, had a conscience. As he did not like slavery either, it pleased him.

"Actually, treating our people humanely works to our advantage," George told the duke. "They are used to working together, have made themselves into several field crews, and for their own amusement compete against one another. When the harvest is in, we reward them all, the lion's share going to the most productive crew. It's certainly better than working them to death and then having to teach and break in new men. I have four black foremen, a and each of them has trained an assistant. And my clerks are all black men. And another advantage to our way is that since at least three generations of our slaves have been born on St. Timothy, there is no incentive to rebel, and there is no longing for Africa, from whence their ancestors came. St. Timothy is our home, all of us, black and white."

"How many hours a day do your field slaves labor?" Valerian asked George as they stopped a moment to look over a field that was already half cleared.

"We are in the fields by six o'clock in the morning, and toil until noon when the sun is so vicious. They return to the fields about two o'clock, and stay until sunset."

"Is there much malingering?"

George shook his head. "When a field hand goes to the doctor, it is because they are genuinely injured or ill. These are honest people, and their families would not allow them to feign illness."

"Do many run away?"

"Where would they go?" Aurora said. "British law says a slave has absolutely no rights. If a black cannot show papers of manumission, it is assumed they are runaways. They are jailed until their owners can be found, and if they are not, they are resold. No one has run from St. Timothy in my memory, for they are safer here, and better treated than anywhere else in the colonies."

They rode into the fields toward a group of centrally located buildings. The field hands greeted them as they passed them by.

"These buildings house the cane mill as well as the boiling and refining houses," George explained. "The cane is cut as close to the ground as possible, the leaves stripped, and then the cane is cut into three- to four-foot lengths, bundled up, and brought to the mill. Within the mill the slaves crush the cane to extract its juices. We then boil the juice, clarify it, and it crystallizes into sugar. We take a little of the molasses, which is what is left after we clarify the cane, and make our rum with it. It's a long, tedious, hot process. Only the strongest men can work here."

"You make enough rum only for your personal use?"

George nodded.

"Would it be possible to make more rum?" Valerian asked.

"I always wanted to do that!" George said enthusiastically. "There is a good market for rum outside the islands. We would need to build a facility to bottle it. Papa never wanted to do it, but I think we need to diversify, and build up our resources. If we lost a crop to a hurricane, we would have the means to plant again, and to survive. Papa said we would have to borrow to build, and he wanted no part of the island endangered by moneylenders."

"Do you have enough slaves to start such a process?" the older man queried the younger. "Or would it be necessary to buy new slaves?"

"We can train men to oversee the process, but we can use the younger women to do the bottling, Valerian," George responded. "Bringing new slaves to the island could cause trouble."

"I am completely unnecessary to this conversation," Aurora said suddenly. "George, you do not really need me now. I am going for a swim before the sun is too high."

"You swim?" the duke was astounded.

"In the sea," she told him pertly, and then, turning her horse away, she moved off back through the fields.

"She can really swim?" Valerian asked George.

"Like a fish," he said. "Even better than I can, much to my embarrassment. She's a bonny girl, Valerian, and a wonderful companion, if a brother might brag a bit. She can shoot a pistol too."

"Good Lord!" the duke exclaimed. "And is Calandra like her?"

George laughed. "Nay, she is not. Cally dislikes swimming almost as much as she dislikes riding, and the sight of a pistol renders her faint. Yet she is a game girl, and has kept up with the two of us for years. Cally, however, can play the pianoforte, and she sings like an angel. She has a wonderful eye, and paints the most exquisite landscape miniatures. These are talents much more suited to being a duchess, I would assume. They are both wonderful sisters!"

"I had a sister once," Valerian said as they resumed their ride. "She was drowned with my parents returning from France. My mother was half French. After her father died, and she was married to my father, my French grandmother returned to her girlhood home. My parents had taken Sophia for a visit. A wicked storm blew up in the Channel even as they were in sight of England. Their ship went down, and all aboard her were lost. Sophia was eight." He smiled softly. "I yet remember her, but were it not for her portrait in the family gallery, her face would elude me today. She was a pretty child, and, as I recall, very mischievous. She once drove all the chickens on the home farm out into the fields to free them because she said she could not bear to know they would be eventually eaten. She had a kind heart, my sister."

George nodded his understanding. "Cally and Aurora once freed a turtle that was to be used for soup for the same reason," he said.

The two men rode on, George taking his companion to the top of the gentle hills that divided the island lengthwise. He pointed out the fields, and the old Meredith plantation house that would now belong to Aurora. From their vantage point Valerian could view the entire island, and the sea in which it sat.

"What is that island?" the duke asked. "It looks quite wild."

"It's St. Vincent, and is inhabited by the Carib Indians. They do not bother us, nor we them," George answered. "They have lost so much to the British, French, and the Spanish, even the Dutch, that they are content to live peaceably as long as they are left to themselves."

"And where is Barbados?"

George turned. "You can just make it out today, for it's a bit hazy. St. Timothy is between the two islands."

Valerian Hawkesworth gazed out over the island. It was like an emerald set on an aquamarine cloth. Above them the bright sun glittered in an azure sky. It was absolutely beautiful in a way he had never known, or even imagined. In a nearby tree he spotted several medium-sized birds. They were teal green with sapphire-blue tails and wing tips. Each had a cap of bright orange, and bone-colored hooked beaks. He pointed toward the small flock, asking George, "What are they?"

"Tiomoids, a variety of parrot native to this island" was the reply. "Pretty, aren't they?"

"I've never seen anything like them. Oh, I've seen parrots in England, but usually they're blue and gold, or white. I've never seen any like these."

"They don't seem to be anywhere else but here," George said. "They're harmless. They don't ravage the cane, so we leave them be."

They returned down the hills, but when they had reached the fields again, a tall, neatly garbed black man came running, calling out to George Spencer-Kimberly.

"What is it, Isaac?"

"You are needed in the counting house, sir. I was sent to find you. Will you come?"

George turned to Valerian. "I must go. If you would like, tomorrow we can go over the books."

"Can we not do it this afternoon?" the duke asked.

"I think Cally might find herself offended if we did," George answered with a twinkle in his eye.

Valerian laughed. "You are right. I must remember that I am to be a married man, and can no longer think only of myself."

George nodded. "Just follow the road back to the house. You won't get lost. There is only one cutoff, and that leads to the beach. Your path goes straight. The other turns to the right."

"I think I can find my way," the duke said as he moved off.

When he came to the narrow track that led right, however, he turned his horse onto it. He wanted to see the beach, and ride along the edge of the sea for a bit. St. Timothy was such a fascinating place. He felt a longing to go exploring such as he had not felt since he was a young boy. He didn't expect he would lose his way so completely that he couldn't find his way back to the plantation house. The jungle deepened for a short way, and then began to thin out once more. He could hear the waves on the shore, but it was a soft sound.

As he was about to move out onto the sand, something caught his eye in the water. It was a head. He saw Aurora's horse tethered. Then his eyes went to her clothing which was piled neatly next to a cloth that was spread on the white beach. Was she swimming nude? He was surprised, and perhaps shocked, although he was not certain of that. He knew he should turn around and return to the main road, but he didn't want to. Instead, he remained hidden in the shadows, watching as she swam closer to shore.

She stood, and his question was answered. She was completely without garments, and she was utterly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen at that particular moment. The crystal-clear waters came almost to her knees. She reached about to gather her hair into her hands, and then wrung it out as she walked from the sea onto the beach. Lying upon the cloth, she spread her hair out to dry. Valerian sat silent, hardly daring to breathe. After a while Aurora turned over, again arranging her hair in a manner intended to dry it. She remained that way for another short period.

What I am doing? the duke thought. I am like a boy spying on the dairymaids, and yet he could not move away. She had long legs, and her skin was pale gold all over. A bunch of luxuriant little curls, golden brown in color, burst forth from the junction between her legs. He wanted to plunge his fingers into that tempting tangle and explore her most secret places. He watched her arise from the beach, and his eyes fastened eagerly upon her breasts. They were small, and perfectly round in shape, their nipples pert and upstanding. Her narrow waist led to surprisingly shapely hips, perhaps a trifle more statuesque than he would have suspected beneath her skirts. She turned, then bent to retrieve her shirt. Her buttocks were so sweetly formed, he longed to fondle them. It was then he realized how uncomfortable he had suddenly become. His male organ was swollen hard, and almost unbearably painful.

God, he thought irritably! This girl is to be my sister-in-law, yet here I am, spying on her like some debauched bastard. How the hell shall I ever look her in the eye again? He watched as Aurora pulled on her breeches, stockings, and shoes. Suddenly he was angry. It was her fault! She was a teasing little wanton! What sort of respectable girl went about swimming naked for all to see who could see? He could only hope the wench would not cause a scandal when she came to England. He would have to find a respectable husband for her as quickly as possible, but somehow the thought of another man with Aurora angered him even further. Valerian Hawkesworth turned his horse back toward the main road before she caught him looking at her. If she found him out, she might tell Calandra, and he didn't want his bride upset by a momentary weakness on his part.

The days flew by. He spent the mornings with George, learning about how a sugar plantation was run, monitoring the books. He found his wife's dowry a productive one. The Kimberlys, Robert in particular, had been very prudent, the duke discovered. Proceeds from the sales of the sugar crops were deposited with London banks. Kimberly had provided generously for his widow, and for his two stepchildren, whom, Valerian learned, he had formally adopted. Both Aurora and George would be considered excellent marriage prospects. He expected to have no trouble finding a husband for his sister-in-law, provided, of course, she behaved herself. But other than her proclivity for swimming naked in the sea, he could find little fault with her, except perhaps her quick tongue. And the sea surrounding England was generally too cold to swim in at all. Valerian Hawkesworth was beginning to feel expansive in his good fortune.

He spent the afternoon and evenings with Calandra, her mother, and sister. His bride-to-be was very lovely, if perhaps a trifle dull, but then that was to be expected. She had spent her entire life on St. Timothy, which, while beautiful, offered little in the way of cultural stimulation. Calandra could read, and she could write, but she was, she admitted to him, hopeless at sums. She spoke a little French, but where she excelled was in the arts. Her embroidery was exquisite, as were the miniatures she painted; and as George had said, she sang sweetly, and played the pianoforte in the drawing room quite well. All in all she would be an asset to Farminster. His grandmother would smooth out her rough spots, and Calandra would be quite acceptable in society.

His sister-in-law, on the other hand, was far more stimulating to speak with, and quite the bluestocking. She had read everything in her father's library several times over. She wrote with a very fine hand, and had taught herself Latin. Besides English, she spoke both Spanish and French fluently, having had access along with George to a tutor for several years. He had seen her ride and swim. And one afternoon he had seen her best her brother at target shooting. She had a keen eye for mathematical figures, but none of the female accomplishments of her stepsister. She could neither sing nor play, nor paint nor embroider, and while she would not hurt Calandra's feelings by scoffing at such things, it was obvious she had little time or patience for them. Aurora and Calandra were fascinating opposites, yet they loved each other dearly, he could see.

Cally's wedding gown was ready. The servants sewed diligently on the clothing she would take with her until she might obtain that fine London wardrobe. The duke was pleased that Aurora and George would be coming in eight months' time rather than on his heels. He had Aurora's measurements taken, and promised that a wardrobe would be sent to her in time to travel to England. And George, too, was to share in his brother-in-law's bounty. It would be winter when they arrived, the duke reminded them, and they would both need warm, fashionable clothing.

"You will send to me to let me know on what ship you intend traveling. I would suggest the Royal George, or its sister ship, the Queen Caroline. I will send my carriage to meet you."

"You are so kind to us, Valerian," Oralia said.

"Would you not come too, ma'am?" he asked her as he had several times previously. "We would welcome you at Hawkes Hill, and hope that Calandra will be with child by then. I know she would welcome her mother, particularly under those conditions."

Oralia shook her head. "When Robert brought me here from Jamaica, I vowed that I would never again set sail upon the sea. I have neither the head nor the stomach for it, it seems." She laughed.

"Then we must return to St. Timothy often so you may know your grandchildren, ma'am," Valerian said generously.

Oralia beamed even as Calandra giggled.

He had begun to worry about Calandra. How many walks had they taken in the plantation house gardens? But she had yet to allow him any intimacy but the privilege of holding her hand. On the several occasions he had attempted to kiss her on the lips, she had turned away so that his lips barely brushed her cheek. If she would not allow him an innocent kiss, what was to happen when they were married? Aurora, he suspected, would have long ago succumbed to his kisses. He didn't know why he had thought it, but he did. Then, having thought it, he put the idea from him guiltily. Certainly Oralia had, or would shortly, explain to Calandra her marital duties. Then it would be up to him to instruct his bride in the more practical aspects of those duties.

The night before the wedding Oralia joined both her daughters in Cally's bedchamber. "Aurora, I think it best you leave us," she said.

"May I not remain?" her stepdaughter replied. "You are going to speak to Cally of the physical side of marriage, aren't you, Mama? I might as well hear it now, as you probably won't be with me when I marry."

"But you are not departing for England for several months," Oralia replied. "We will speak then, Aurora."

"I would rather hear it all with Cally, Mama."

"Oh, please let her stay," Cally begged prettily.

Oralia shrugged. She was uncomfortable enough as it was. It was actually a very practical idea to get this little speech all over and done with just once. "Very well," she acquiesced. "Marriage has many aspects to it," she began. "A good wife respects her husband. She keeps his house, and if he so desires, she may even offer him her counsel. But a woman's chief duty, my girls, is to give her husband children. In order to do this, she must cojoin her body to his and receive his seed into her womb. For some women this is a pleasant duty, and she may even enjoy her husband's passion."

"Did you?" Aurora asked frankly.

Oralia blushed. "I did with your father," she said low.

"But not with mine?" Cally asked.

Oralia bit her lip, but then said candidly, "Your father was not as gentle a man as was Robert Kimberly. While all men are basically alike in their forms, each is different in the manner in which he makes love to his wife. You must be prepared for this, both of you. Cally, I believe your duke will be kind and patient. Permit him the freedom of your body, for it is his right. You must not deny him."

"What will he do?" Cally asked curiously.

"Each man has an… um… um… an…"

"Appendage?" Aurora suggested.

"How on earth did you know that?" her mother gasped.

"I remember seeing George had one when we swam together as children," Aurora said calmly. "It was a bit small, however."

"They grow as the male grows," Oralia told them weakly, thinking this was probably the worst thing she had ever had to do in her life. "This appendage is the means by which a man joins his body with his wife."

"How?" Cally said.

"There is an opening in a female's body," her mother said. "It can be found between your legs. As a man's desire grows, this appendage will thicken, and grow. It is then ready to enter your body, which your husband, if he is thoughtful, will prepare for his entry."

"How?" Cally again.

"He will stroke you," Oralia said.

"Like a cat?" Cally sounded disbelieving.

"You know what you need to know," Oralia said. "Valerian will answer any other questions you have, Calandra."

"How does a baby get into my body?" Cally persisted.

"Your husband will deliver his seed into your womb by means of his appendage. This seed will grow if you are fertile at the time it enters your body, for you will not always be fertile to his seed, and the seed evolves into a baby. It generally takes about nine months for a child to come to full term. At that point it will push itself from your body through the same opening by which it entered it."

"Will it be a son or daughter?" Cally was not yet satisfied.

"You will not know until the child is born," her mother said. "Now, Calandra, Aurora, I think you have more than enough information. It is time for you to go to sleep. Tomorrow is a very important day for you, Calandra. You will marry, and you will leave St. Timothy as the Duchess of Farminster. You must get your rest."

"Let Aurora stay for a while," Cally asked her mother. "It is the last night we will have each other's company for a long time, and when we meet again, everything will be different."

Oralia nodded, understanding, and then, standing up, she left the room. She and Robert had been so fortunate in their marriage and in their children. She wanted that for both of the girls.

When she had gone, Cally said, "I wonder what part of me he will stroke." Then she giggled nervously. "It is all quite silly."

"Men, I have noted, have an appreciation of women's breasts. Perhaps he will stroke your breasts," Aurora said. "Have you ever touched yourself, Cally?"

"Have you?"

Aurora nodded. Then she undid the ribbons on her nightgown, exposing her upper torso to her sister's view. "Undo yours," she commanded.

Cally complied with the request. "I've never done this before," she whispered. "Is it naughty?"

"Probably," Aurora responded, her hands cupping her round little breasts. "Do what I do, Cally."

Cally's bosom was only slightly larger than her sister's. Her breasts were cone-shaped, and had large nipples. Shyly, she slipped her hands beneath them, all the while watching as Aurora began to rub her nipples with her thumbs. Cally followed suit. Her nipples grew hard beneath her touch, but she felt more irritation than anything else. Aurora, however, closed her eyes and sighed. She slipped one hand down her body, pushing her nightgown away, until her fingers were lost in the tight curls of her bush. Cally watched wide-eyed as Aurora thrust a finger between the folds of flesh and began to rub herself.

"What are you doing?" she said, half shocked.

"You do it too," her sister said softly. "Ummmm, it feels so good. If this is what a man does to you, I can hardly wait to marry!"

"I cannot do that," Cally protested, but she was fascinated.

"Yes… you can," Aurora murmured. "Oh! Oh! Oh! That was so nice, Cally. Go ahead! Try it. You'll feel so good afterward!"

Nervously, Calandra followed her sister's instructions. Soon her body began to tingle in a way she had never known before, and she did not think she liked it. Her fingers were slickly sticky with some kind of juice her body seemed to be emitting. Then she gave a little shudder. "Ohhh!" she cried. "Ohhhh!"

"There now, wasn't that nice?" Aurora said mischievously.

"I don't think I liked it at all," Cally said, arising from the bed where they were both sitting to wash her fingers off. "How did you ever learn such a thing?" She scrubbed her hand fiercely.

Aurora shrugged. "I don't really know. I just did it one day, and I liked it. Valerian will probably touch you that way. I think the gooey fluid that comes from that place is what Mama meant when she said he would prepare you for his entry. I imagine the appendage goes in far more easily when it is greased than if you were dry."

"I think it is nasty, and I shall not do it!" Cally said.

"Oh, don't be silly, Cally. Of course you'll do it. You have to if you're going to have a baby, and, as Mama says, it's your first duty to the Hawkesworth family to give them an heir. You'll probably like it better when Valerian does it to you. Has he kissed you yet?"

"I wouldn't let him," Cally said.

"Well, you'll have to after the wedding," Aurora told her sister in practical tones. Then she arose from the bed, retying her nightgown. "I'm off for bed, sweeting. Happy dreams, little sister. I will miss you. See you on the morrow."

"Aurora!"

She turned.

"I love you!" Cally said.

"I love you too," Aurora replied, and then left her sister.

In the downstairs foyer Calandra's trunks sat waiting. The wedding would be first thing in the morning, when the Royal George arrived. Then the newlyweds and their two servants would depart for England after a wedding breakfast. The minister would be returned to Barbados by means of a St. Timothy boat, and the day would progress just like any other day on the island, except that Cally would be gone.

The household was up early. The baths were filled, and all involved bathed. Tea was brought to each bedroom. Cally's maid, Sally, was so sick with her excitement that she vomited twice.

"What's the matter with you?" Martha asked the younger woman.

"I'm going 'ome!" Sally said. "I'm going to see England again, and be personal maid to a duchess!" Sally's term of bondage had ended several years earlier. She had always been homesick for England, but had never had the means to return. She had been transported for debt. The only means of support she had was here with Calandra. Now she had been asked to accompany her mistress, and she was thrilled. "Don't tell me, Martha 'enry, that you won't be 'appy to see England again."

"You ain't going to remain personal maid to a duchess long if you don't put those H's back on your words, Sally me girl," Martha told the younger woman sternly. "I thought we had learned you better these past ten years. A duchess's servant got to talk more posh. You want to end up back in the same London slum from where you came?"

"Gawd, no!" Sally exclaimed. She looked worried. "Maybe I ought to stay put right here on St. Timothy."

"Don't be a ninny," Martha said. "Just remember to speak careful, and learn everything you can from the Hawkesworth family servants. You've got the next couple of weeks to make friends, and ask questions of Browne, the duke's valet. And by make friends I don't mean you should go and seduce the poor fellow. And if anyone should question your authority, and try and steal your place, just remember to be tough and remind 'em that you've been with her grace since she was a child. Few will challenge an association like that. Be pleasant, but don't trust anyone until you got a real good lay of the land. The dowager duchess will have a favorite serving woman. Make friends with her and defer to her judgment. With a strong ally like that, you ain't got nothing to worry about."

"Oh, Martha! I'm going to miss you!" Sally's plain face was woebegone. Her gray eyes were teary.

"Go on with you," Martha said gruffly, but she was feeling a bit weepy too. When Sally departed, she would have no close woman friend of her own class. But it was only for a little while, she reminded herself. Her eye went to the windows, and then she said, "Look out in the harbor. The Royal George is sailing in, and the bride not ready!"

Cally's wedding gown was brought forth. It was a beautiful garment of cream-colored satin. The round neckline was edged in matching lace that matched the engageants falling from the three-quarter sleeves. The skirt opened in the front to reveal a brocade underskirt embroidered in a delicate floral pattern with gold thread. The skirt was gathered full at the hips with flounces and ruches, and lay over its underskirt and several stiffened petticoats. Calandra's dark hair was gathered into a chignon, and one long curl was coaxed to lie over her left shoulder. She wore no jewelry except for pear-shaped pearl earbobs and a small gold cross on a fine gold chain. Carefully she slipped her stocking feet into low-heeled cream brocade shoes with small gold rosettes. Then she looked at herself in the long mirror.

Calandra Hawkesworth. It had a noble ring to it. Calandra, Duchess of Farminster, she thought, and preened before the glass. Yes. She looked like a duchess. She was going to be a great success in England. "I am beautiful," she said aloud to no one in particular.

"You are, and that's the truth," Martha told her with a smile, "but don't you forget when you get to England, that pretty is as pretty does, Miss Calandra. I'll want to hear good things of you when we arrive."

Oralia came into the bedroom and stopped, her hand going to her heart as she viewed her daughter. "Oh, my, my, darling! It is perfect. You look regal." She handed Cally a small spray of star-shaped white orchids. Then she asked, "Where is Aurora?"

"Here, Mama." Aurora entered by the door that connected her room and Cally's. Her gown was almost identical to her sister's except that it was pale rose-colored silk. The visible underskirt was of cream brocade, hand painted with tiny blue forget-me-nots. Her matching shoes had pink rosettes, and her brown-gold hair was fashioned with twin ringlets on either side of her head. Her only jewelry was a gold cross that matched her sister's.

"Oh, how lovely you look!" Oralia said, pleased. She presented her stepdaughter with a bouquet of pink hibiscus and green ferns.

George popped his head in the door. "Captain Conway and the Reverend Mr. Edwardes have arrived. The bridegroom is waiting eagerly. Are you ladies ready?"

"Escort me down, George, and then you may come and get your sister," Oralia said, gesturing to the two servants to accompany her.

The two sisters were alone for a brief moment.

"You're certain you're not sorry?" Cally said. "This is a wonderful and generous thing you have done, Aurora, but even I know Papa would not approve."

"I am not sorry," Aurora assured her, "and Papa would want me happy first and foremost. You know that. Now, you be happy, Cally."

"Ohhh, I just know I will! I am going to be a duchess, and live in England. I cannot wait to get there and become a part of society!"

"And Valerian? Do you give no thought to him?" Aurora was just slightly troubled by Cally's childish attitude.

"Valerian? Well, he will be my husband. What else is there?" Cally replied. "I'm certain we shall get on quite well."

George returned. "Come, my little sisters. 'Tis time."

They left the bedchamber, and Aurora descended the staircase first, moving slowly so that everyone would have a chance to see and admire Calandra. Of course only the servants were there to see, besides the ship's captain and the Anglican minister who stood with his back before the open door of the house. To his left stood the duke, dressed simply but elegantly in pale fawn-colored breeches, full at the top and fitted above the knee, below which he wore white stockings. His coat was of black velvet, and his waistcoat a white brocade embroidered with black thread garlands. He had silver buckles on his shoes, and lace at his throat and cuffs. Reaching the minister, Aurora stepped to the left and turned to see her stepsister.

Cally moved gracefully, her little hand upon George's arm. When they arrived before the Reverend Mr. Edwardes, Valerian stepped forward, and George gave his sister's hand into that of the duke and stepped into Valerian's former place as George had two roles to fulfill in this wedding. He was to give the bride away, and he was also the best man.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together today in the sight of God and this company to join together this man and this woman," intoned the Anglican minister.

How long had it been since she had been to church? Aurora wondered. The minister had come from Barbados for her father's funeral, and before that? She could not remember. Her father would have liked to have had a clergyman on St. Timothy, but without a congregation it would have been good money wasted, he always said. The slaves had their own religion, and a family of five plus their servants was hardly worth the bother. So the minister was sent for only when he was needed. Hardly an ideal arrangement, Aurora thought. When I go to England I shall go to church every Sunday, she decided. England. What fate was awaiting her there? Only time would tell. Her mind wandered here and there for the next few minutes, and then she heard the minister say, "I now pronounce you man and wife." He joined their hands. "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen." Then the Reverend Mr. Edwardes smiled at the couple. "You may kiss the bride, your grace."

Knowing her shyness, Valerian quickly and lightly brushed Calandra's lips with his own. She looked very surprised.

Oralia kissed her daughter and then the duke. "I am so very happy for you both!" she said, her eyes filled with tears.

The newlyweds were then congratulated by their relations, Captain Conway, and the servants before they adjourned to the dining room for a wedding breakfast. While they ate, the trunks were being carried from the house, put into a cart, and taken down to the harbor to the ship. When the last toast was drunk, Captain Conway arose from his place.

"I do not wish to rush your grace, but the sooner I can weigh anchor today, the sooner we will reach England."

"Of course," the duke agreed, standing and drawing Cally up with him. "You will want to change, my dear. Sally, take your mistress upstairs, and do not dawdle."

"Yes, yer grace," Sally said smartly. She and Martha had been invited to the table, being old and treasured retainers.

In a surprisingly short time the new Duchess of Farminster returned, dressed fashionably in a gaily flowered Pompadour taffeta travel dress, a broad-brimmed straw hat with blue ribbons, and lace mitts upon her pretty hands. "I am ready," she said in a breathless voice.

Oralia began to cry. Both her daughter and stepdaughter rushed to comfort her. "I am being foolish, I know," she sniffed.

"Now, Mama, you must reconsider your decision and come to England with Aurora and George in late autumn," Cally said.

Oralia shook her head. "I do not like to travel," she replied. "When you have had a baby or two, or three, bring them home one winter to St. Timothy for their grandmama to see before she dies."

"Now, Mama," Aurora said, struggling not to laugh. "You are not going to die for many years to come. You are far too young. Give Cally your blessing, and a kiss so they may be under way."

Oralia sighed, but did as her stepdaughter suggested, kissing first Calandra, and then Valerian Hawkesworth. "Take care of my darling child," she instructed the duke.

"I will, ma'am," he promised her.

Cally then hugged her stepsister, her brother, and finally Martha. "I shall look forward to seeing you in a few months."

George grinned. "Together," he said.

"Forever!" Cally responded.

"As one!" Aurora finished their pledge.

Valerian Hawkesworth looked puzzled, and the trio laughed.

"Your wife will explain to you," Oralia said. "Now, go, before I cannot let you go!" She put her handkerchief to her mouth.

The duke helped his bride into the open carriage, and with a wave they were off down to the harbor, Captain Conway, Browne, and Sally following in their own conveyance.

"I do not know if I can bear it," Oralia said softly.

"Be of good cheer, ma'am," the Reverend Mr. Edwardes said. "It is God's will that a daughter leave her mother's house for a husband. Your daughter has married incredibly well. Be thankful!"

"George," Aurora said quickly, "would you be so good as to take our kindly minister down to the boat and have Franklin sail him back over to Barbados. The winds are brisk today, and I believe he can be home in time for lunch. It was so good of you to come to St. Timothy to marry Cally and Valerian, but we cannot keep you further from your parish duties, Reverend Edwardes." She smiled sweetly.

"Happy to come, Miss Aurora," he replied. "I hope I shall next see you wed to some fine young man. We have several suitable gentlemen in my parish, among whom might be one who would suit you."

"Perhaps I shall come over to Barbados for a visit after my brother and I return from England next year, sir," she replied.

"Your dear mama will be all right, won't she?" the minister inquired solicitously. "Losing a daughter is hard, I know. My good wife and I have married off four in as many years."

"Mama will be fine," Aurora assured him.

"Come along, sir," George said brightly, understanding that Aurora wanted the man gone before Oralia might say something revealing. He took the rector by the arm. "I shall see to his fee," he murmured to his stepsister, and then he hustled the Reverend Mr. Edwardes out the door before another moment could pass by.