A Duke’s Relentless Courting: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel

by Leah Conolly

  Ruth looked at Charlotte, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Perhaps if you talk about some of this with me, it will seem less awful,” she said, her brow furrowing at Charlotte’s increasingly agitated state.

  Charlotte opened her mouth to respond to her maid, but a muffled whimper made her fall silent. She froze mid-pace and looked at Ruth.

  “Did you hear that?” Charlotte asked.

  Ruth nodded slowly, eyes wide.

  Charlotte began walking again, slowly and quietly.

  “Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”

  Ruth stepped toward Charlotte.

  “It was probably a small animal, or perhaps a child,” she said.

  Charlotte held up her hand, listening carefully. After several moments of silence, she turned to agree with her maid, but then the sound came again, somewhat louder than before. She spotted a stack of shipping crates not far from where she had been sitting, concealed in the shade of a large pillar.

  Ruth and Charlotte exchanged looks. Was someone injured and too weak to call for help? Had they happened upon some sort of crime? Charlotte debated with herself for a moment, unsure of whether she should investigate. If someone were being attacked, the aggressor might turn on her, but she could not just turn her back on someone in need. At last she took a deep breath and straightened.

  She approached the crates, with Ruth following closely. Behind the boxes, Charlotte spotted a young woman crouching, her hand over her mouth, her gray eyes wide and full of tears. Her blond hair fell in loose ringlets around her face, and Charlotte noticed a striking resemblance to herself. She held out her hand to the woman, who recoiled, seemingly frightened. Charlotte smiled warmly at her.

  “Do not be afraid,” she said. “We want to help you. Come with us and tell us what is troubling you.”

  The woman studied Charlotte and Ruth for a moment with the same wide, fearful eyes. Then, slowly, she rose, taking Charlotte’s hand but not meeting her gaze.

  “Please,” the woman whispered in a trembling voice. “I do not want any trouble. I was merely hoping to find a scrap of discarded food, or a fallen coin or two.”

  Charlotte studied the young woman for several moments, surprised. Was the woman a beggar? Her clothes, although dirty and not as new or elaborate as her own, were not worn or tattered. But why else would she be seeking food scraps and money?

  The woman trembled before them, as though fearing that they might alert the other people on the docks to her presence. Charlotte slowly raised her hands and gave the woman a reassuring smile. The gestures seemed to do little to comfort the woman, and she cowered further away. Charlotte took a step back, trying to decide what to do.

  She exchanged a look with Ruth, who was gazing at the woman with deep sympathy. Charlotte slowly led the woman from behind the crates towards the one she had been sitting on a few moments before. The woman complied, her head low.

  “Do not worry,” Charlotte said, patting the woman’s arm. “We will not say anything about finding you here, but, please, tell us why you are here?”

  Charlotte expected her to remain silent, or even to flee without another word. Instead, however, the woman took a deep breath and at last looked Charlotte in the eye.

  “My father has disowned me,” she said bluntly. “He is a baron, and he was trying to force me to find a proper husband. I was already in love with a man my father considered to be worse than a peasant, and I could not comply with his wishes.” She laughed dryly as her eyes filled with tears. “I had no way of knowing that the man I loved only wanted me for my father’s fortune, or that he would vanish the moment my family disowned me.”

  Charlotte stilled. She could relate to the woman’s plight, and she wondered if she might have found herself in the same position with her own father, had she not reluctantly agreed to travel to France and marry the Comte. It seemed that the woman’s feelings mirrored Charlotte’s every bit as much as her appearance did.

  Suddenly, Charlotte gasped, an idea taking root in her mind before she was fully aware it was happening. She took the woman’s hands gently and gave her an enthusiastic look.

  “What if I could do more for you than merely find you a bit of food or a couple of coins?” she asked.

  The woman blinked at her, confused.

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  Charlotte knelt beside her.

  “What if I could set you up with a new name, a home, a husband, and as much food as you could eat?”

  The woman pulled her hands away from Charlotte, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Are you thinking of selling me to someone?” she asked.

  Charlotte laughed.

  “Not at all,” she said. “What I mean is, you could take my place aboard the approaching ship, travel to France, and live the life of your dreams.”

  The woman continued to look at Charlotte with doubt and distrust.

  “If it is a dream life,” she said slowly, “then why are you so willing to hand it to me?”

  Charlotte sighed.

  “Because it is not the life of my dreams,” she said quietly.

  Understanding dawned on the woman’s face. She stared at Charlotte, her brow furrowed, as she mulled over the words. At last, she rose from the crate.

  “Very well,” she said. “Tell me more about this dream life.”

  Charlotte smiled, relieved that the woman did not think her completely mad and proceeded to explain about traveling to France to marry the Comte. The woman listened with cautious optimism, taking in Charlotte’s words.

  At last, Charlotte finished filling in the woman, who appeared to be carefully considering Charlotte’s crazy proposal.

  “My lady,” Ruth whispered, gripping her elbow. “I do not believe that this is a good idea.”

  Charlotte excused herself and led her maid out of the woman’s earshot, as she continued contemplating what Charlotte was offering.

  “It is the perfect idea,” Charlotte said, unable to contain her excitement. “The Comte only knows that I have yellow hair, gray eyes, and that I am slim. This woman matches my appearance identically in those aspects. She even has a similar face shape and bone structure. The Comte will never know the difference. I will be free of him and the life I dread in France, and I will have helped a poor woman who might otherwise die in the streets.”

  Ruth shook her head.

  “What of your father?” she asked. “Do you think he will be so easily fooled by some imposter pretending to be his daughter?”

  Charlotte put her hands on her maid’s shoulders.

  “How will Father know?” she asked. “Once he marries me off, I expect that he will not feel the need to visit for quite some time. Even if he does eventually make the trip to France, by that time it will not matter. What is done will be done, and there will be nothing anyone can do to change it.”

  Ruth frowned.

  “That is precisely what worries me, my lady,” she said softly.

  The woman cleared her throat, approaching Charlotte and Ruth.

  “Please,” Charlotte whispered. “Trust me.”

  Ruth looked at Charlotte silently.

  “I will do it,” the woman said bluntly.

  Charlotte’s eyes widened.

  “You will?” she asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I highly doubt that I can board that ship looking like this,” she said, gesturing to her dirty, drab dress. “And if we are to switch identities, we should probably learn more about each other, and quickly, before the ship arrives.”

  Charlotte smiled. The woman even reminded her of herself when she spoke.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “My name is Charlotte Hackney, and I am twenty years old. I am the daughter of the Earl of Devon, and bride-to-be of Comte Francois. This is my maid, and dear friend, Ruth Bevel.”

  The woman nodded, seeming to grow more excited about their plan by the moment.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you both,”
she said with a curtsey. “And I am Christine Becker, daughter of the Baron of Weston. I am eighteen years old, and …,” she paused and chuckled bitterly. “Well, you know the rest of my woeful tale.”

  Charlotte’s heart broke for Christine. She was so timid and sensitive, and she certainly deserved better than that which life had given her thus far. She gave Christine a warm smile and returned the curtsey. Then she looked Christine over.

  “We should get you out of those clothes and into mine,” Charlotte said.

  The woman flushed and glanced around.

  “How on earth will we switch clothes here, in front of all these people?” she whispered, incredulous.

  As if on cue, the crown milling on the docks began making its way to the boarding point. Charlotte looked up and saw the ship, which had nearly reached its destination. She gasped, realizing that they only had a few more minutes if their ruse was to be successful.

  “Quickly,” she said, lowering her voice. “Let us move back behind the crates where you were hiding. We will exchange clothes there.”

  Christine’s eyes widened, but she did not question Charlotte. The three women moved back to the shadow-shrouded crates, and Ruth positioned herself directly in front of them to block them from the sight of passers-by.

  As quickly as possible, Charlotte and Christine exchanged clothes. Once the women were adequately covered, Ruth abandoned her guard post and helped them finish dressing. When she was done, she stepped back and looked them over. Her eyes widened, and she put her hand to her mouth. Charlotte looked at Christine and gave a tiny gasp.

  Christine had transformed into a beautiful, proper lady before her eyes, and the resemblance between the women was now uncanny. From the expression on Christine’s face as she studied Charlotte, it was clear that she saw the resemblance as well.

  Charlotte recovered quickly when she saw people beginning to board the ship. She knew that the Comte’s brother would disembark soon to find her and escort her to France.

  “Come,” she said, gesturing to Ruth and Christine. “Let us get you ready to present to Comte Francois’s brother.”

  Christine followed Charlotte, but Ruth stayed where she was.

  “My lady,” she said. “I am staying here with you.”

  Charlotte walked back to Ruth and took her hands.

  “No,” she said. “Christine must have a maid. She could not possibly travel without a chaperone. Besides, this will give you the opportunity to see France, just as you wanted.”

  Ruth glanced at Christine and shook her head firmly.

  “I am not unsympathetic to Miss Becker’s plight,” she said. “But I will not leave you. I cannot. Please, do not ask me to do so.”

  Before the discussion could continue, Charlotte saw a man approaching them. She held her breath and gestured almost imperceptibly to him, giving Ruth and Christine a meaningful look. Despite Ruth’s protests seconds before, she put a hand on Christine’s arm and approached the man with a warm, professional smile.

  “Good day, ladies,” the man said, bowing as he looked at Christine. “Lady Charlotte, I presume?”

  Charlotte stayed rooted to the spot, holding her breath. She suddenly feared they would be discovered, and the whole plan would fall apart.

  Christine gave the man a surprisingly elegant curtsey and smiled brilliantly at him.

  “Yes, my lord,” she said.

  The gentleman smiled warmly.

  “Very good, my lady,” he said. “I take it this is your lady’s maid?”

  Ruth gave a brief curtsey.

  “Yes, my lord,” she said. “However, I will be unable to travel with Lady Charlotte. I am not well, I am afraid, so I must stay behind.”

  The gentleman studied her briefly before nodding.

  “Very well,” he said. “There are other members of Comte Francois’s household aboard the ship. They should prove sufficient chaperones in your absence. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

  Ruth curtseyed again, and, even from where she stood, Charlotte could see the relief on her maid’s face.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said. She turned to Christine. “My lady, I wish you a safe, happy journey.”

  Christine embraced Ruth gently, and Charlotte was surprised at how genuine it seemed.

  “Thank you, Ruth,” she said, looking at Charlotte over the maid’s shoulder. “For everything.”

  Charlotte gave her a small smile and nod, grateful that the gentleman had not noticed her. She and Ruth stood as still as statues, as Christine took the gentleman’s arm and disappeared into the crowd. Only once she could no longer see the curly blond hair did Charlotte dare to breathe a sigh of relief and join Ruth where she stood.

  “We should leave here at once,” Charlotte whispered to her.

  Ruth nodded.

  “Where will we go?” she asked.

  Charlotte stopped. She had acted so spontaneously that she did not have a plan for what came next. She pulled out her coin purse, which she had tucked into the pocket of Christine’s dress after she had donned it and counted the money inside.

  “We have enough shillings to last the month, and almost enough to board a ship to the New World,” she said.

  Ruth nodded, not questioning her mistress’s choice to travel to the New World.

  “Perhaps we could slip aboard a ship in some crates,” Ruth suggested.

  Charlotte smiled.

  “Ruth, darling, you are a genius,” she said, embracing her maid.

  Trying to stay out of sight, the two women slipped unnoticed along the docks, searching for any crates near a ship that was leaving for the New World.

  Luck favored them once more, and they found crates that were being loaded onto a ship further down the dock. After determining that none of the ship’s crew was nearby, they slipped into a crate with a top left askew. Fortunately, it was largely empty, save for some straw and rough clothing. The women settled inside and pulled the crate lid closed. Soon enough, the crate began to rise off the ground. Charlotte’s heart was pounding in her ears, and she put a hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised grunt when she heard voices just outside their crate. Then she watched in horror the lid of their crate toppled off and fell to the ground. The sound attracted the attention of one of the men talking beside the crate. He stared at them in shock, but only for a moment.

  “Halt,” he said, holding up his hand to the crew members who were attempting to load the cargo. He reached for the crate and helped lower it to the ground. Once it was secure, he pulled Ruth and Charlotte up by their elbows.

  “Well, well,” he said, smirking. “What have we here?”

  Chapter 2

  Duncan Lancaster looked over the invoice yet again. He had tallied up the total number of crates and wine bottles he was supposed to have, but he was still one short. It was certainly not the biggest mistake that had ever occurred with one of his shipments, but it was perplexing, nonetheless. He supposed that he could simply order an extra crate of wine with his next shipment, but he would have to refigure his books in the meantime.

  “Are you certain that there is no other place the wine could be?” he asked the ship’s purser.

  The man shook his head, looking sheepish.

  “No, milord,” he said. “We have searched everywhere. I believe there was a clerical error, and we are simply short one crate of wine. I am terribly sorry, Lord Willeton.”

  Duncan glanced at the invoice again, then looked back at the man. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “It is alright, Jack,” he said, smiling warmly. “These things happen. It is not your fault.”

  Jack smiled back at him gratefully.

  “Thank you, milord,” he said. “I will ensure that this does not happen next time.”

  Duncan nodded and smiled again.

  “I know that you will,” he said.

  He folded the invoice up and tucked it into his pocket, so that he could make the proper adjustments to his books when he returned home. T
hen he began to help the ship’s crew load the remaining crates of wine. He made a mental note to write a letter to the customer, informing the man of the shortage and promising to send extra wine, free of charge, in his next order. The customer was one with whom he had worked for years, and he felt sure this arrangement would be more than satisfactory.

  Moments later, he heard a commotion. He looked up from the crate he was handling and saw two of the ship’s crew members pointing and shouting about a crate swinging a few feet off the ground. Duncan frowned, not understanding the source of the excitement. He abandoned his own crate and approached the men.