Red Wine For Miss Parker

One





Surrey, December 1822





"Should we ask Flora to come?" Eugenia St. Ives rolled onto her stomach and lightly kissed her husband's naked shoulder.

"What on earth makes you think of Flora at a moment like this?" the Duke of Surrey panted.

"I thought that I wished my best friend had moments like this as well." Her fingers gently caressed his chest.

Dominic St. Yves looked at his wife with an amused glint in his eyes. "Your friend Flora is a hopeless case."

Gigi – as she was called by her friends and family – raised herself onto her elbows to look straight back at him.

"No, Dominic. She's not! And if you could ever be bothered to properly get to know her, you might find that she has a very tender soul."

"She hasn't proven it yet. At least not to me. Remember how she told Raleigh about cannibalistic rites in the Caribbean while he was trying to eat his mutton?"

"Of course I remember. I still want her to come. Why should we not bring an unmarried girl? She needs to find a husband--- No, don't interrupt me, Dominic! I know she wants to fall in love, even if she denies it. We have never really introduced her to your rake friends and I'm sure they'll show up at our doorstep the moment we get there."

"My what?" Dominic was baffled.

Gigi wrinkled her nose. "You heard me well, Your Grace. Your rake friends. Or should I rather call them your corinthian friends and thereby conceal the fact that they have connections with dubious damsels and are not averse to the excessive intake of liquor? The ones who spend their days hunting, yachting, boxing, betting and playing cards? The ones who categorically avoid any contact with polite society and hence with Miss Flora Parker?"

"You mean Lackerby and Darlington?"

"And Napier, Sunderland, Wilton... all of His Majesty's cronies in fact. Like yourself."

He seized her and pulled her towards him. "You little fiend. I have not partaken in their games since I met you. You know that perfectly well."

"I know. Because you cannot stay away from my glorious body."

"Yes..." He kissed her long and hard.

"I will write to Flora and tell her how delighted we would be if she chose to spend the summer with us in Italy."

"Yes..." Dominic did not care at all. Not now. But before he let himself be carried away by passion, one thing popped into his mind.

"Wait." He held his wanton wife at a safe distance from his face.

"Mmmh?"

"I don't want her mother to come!"

"She won't," Gigi said softly and wound her body on top of his.

One last flicker of reason was remaining to the Duke and he was determined to make use of it.

"What about your parents?"

"Switzerland..." she breathed hot air against his neck. "For the waters."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, they went last year and it has done miracles for Mr. Wimple's— "

He quickly covered her mouth with his. There were things he did not want to think about.

Not now!





Two





Lake Maggiore, Italy, June 1823





It was good to have rich and influential friends, Miss Flora Parker thought.

Her dear mother had always told her so, but Flora only felt the truth of it in this very instant, as she was sitting on a tree branch in an enormous park belonging to an enormous castle overlooking the enormous Lago Maggiore, the second largest of Italy's pre-alpine lakes, that reached from the south of Switzerland into the mighty grand-duchies of Piedmont and Lombardy in northern Italy.





It was early afternoon. The calm of la siesta had gently settled over Palazzo Sforza and its well-fed inhabitants. From time to time a soft breeze would ruffle the leaves of Flora's tree, a dog would bark in the distant village or some bird would chirp a pleasant melody. The bushes and flowers surrounding Flora oozed a rich perfume and she took deep breaths, hoping to fill her entire body with their lush and spicy scents, to get soaked with that peculiar sensation of abundance they created, to carry their perfume with her, inside her, for the sad day in September when she would leave for England again, for more balls and more hated husband-hunting.

Yes, it was good to have vastly rich and influential friends, she thought once again.

Getting to Italy had been easy due the fact that the Duke of Surrey (or "The Sulk of Dreary" as Flora had secretly named him for his prideful and easily offended character) possessed an exquisite ship taking them from Dover to Genoa in no time, with stops at various interesting cities. The journey had taken them, in the end, only a little over two weeks, thanks to the favourable winds which always seemed to blow where the beautiful Surreys decided to go.

Well, that was not entirely true.