Dukes to Fall in Love With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “I have dressed well, Sir, in honour of the Duke’s visit and nothing more. Surely you would expect nothing less in your household, Lord Dandridge?” Ella almost spat the words she was so angry. “And I can assure you that I have made no special effort with the idea of attracting the Duke. It is something that I do not do under any circumstances; perhaps my mother ought to have informed you better of my character.” She turned to glare at Ariadne.

  “Well, just keep out of the way, my dear,” Ariadne said, making it clear that she most certainly would not stand against her husband in defence of her daughter. “And do try to be quiet when the Duke is here. It really is vitally important that he has as much opportunity to converse with Patience and Georgiana as possible.”

  “I can hardly imagine that I would be able to think of a single thing to say in these circumstances, Mother!” Ella said and felt her voice rising perhaps a little too loudly. “So, you need have no fear that I will make myself known.”

  “You will not raise your voice in this house, do you understand?” Ronald Belville turned and took a step towards her.

  Feeling entirely threatened, Ella said no more but nodded as meekly as she could manage. Her stepfather really was not a man to be trifled with, and she knew that she would do well to remember that in the future. It was not the first time that he had subtly used his own physique as a silent threat.

  Hearing some commotion outside in the entrance hall, Ella realized that the Duke himself must be drawing up. Grateful that his timely appearance would put an end to the uncomfortable situation, Ella breathed a sigh of relief.

  “He is here, Papa!” Patience said, narrowing her eyes as she listened to the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside.

  There was something in her manner that was almost predatory as if she were an animal of some sort scenting the air and making ready to hunt down her prey.

  “Oh, and he really is so very handsome.” Georgiana had darted to the window to peer out at the Duke. “Even though he is a little older, he certainly does look handsome without that awful mask.”

  “Georgiana, my dear, you really must come away from the window. We cannot risk the Duke seeing you spying on him,” Ariadne said in such gentle, motherly tones that Ella felt suddenly like crying.

  How was it that such awful girls deserved her mother’s care when she herself seemed never to get it? Instead, all that Ella could expect was to be bullied and tormented by a man who would never, ever be able to take the place of her own, excellent father.

  “Yes, everybody take your seats now, please,” the Earl said as if he were directing a play. “We want to look fully occupied when the Duke is shown in. You must make much of rising to your feet when he enters the room; due deference must be shown in this house.”

  The Earl seemed suddenly a little out of his depth, and Ella decided to be amused by that instead. She could not think of her mother’s treatment of her any longer; she had an ordeal to get through and knew it. She must find a way to suffer the afternoon without becoming emotional and doing anything that would otherwise give her away.

  “Patience, have a book open on your lap, my dear. We must look as if we are expecting the Duke, but not actually awaiting his arrival.” The Earl sounded nervous. “And Georgiana, turn to your stepmother as if you are in conversation.”

  Ella simply took her seat and bowed her head a little to hide a derisory smirk. What a pathetic little scene she was witnessing, so staged, and so very silly. And she noted that she had no part to play in it all. There was no reason for Ella to appear to be otherwise engaged, for as far as the Earl was concerned, she barely existed as an entity at all.

  When the Butler knocked sharply on the door, every one of them jumped, Ella included. The atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly charged like the air outside before a thunderstorm strikes.

  As the door opened slowly, Ella felt her stomach tighten. She was about to come face-to-face with the man with whom she had been so very frank and unguarded. Not only that, but he had been most unguarded with her, telling her the secrets of his heart and something of the sadness of his search for a wife who truly would take note of the man he was on the inside, not the Duke that he was on the outside.

  If he recognized her now, all would be lost. She realized at that moment that he would be as exposed as she in that situation, and she could not begin to imagine that he would take it lightly. She took a deep breath and held it in the hope of steadying her nerves.

  “The Duke of Hillington, My Lord,” the Butler announced proudly.

  “Thank you,” the Earl said and nodded the man’s dismissal. “Do come in, Your Grace.” His tone switched immediately to a more sycophantic one and Ella, still holding her breath, felt a sudden and ridiculous urge to laugh.

  However, she knew it was nerves and managed to keep herself in check.

  “Thank you, Dandridge,” the Duke said and walked easily into the room.

  As Ella looked at him, she slowly released the breath, blowing it gently through barely parted lips. She had recognized his deep and resonant voice instantly and felt almost transported back to the night of the masquerade ball. But for all her imaginings of the man behind the mask, she could never have imagined how very handsome he really was.

  His dark hair and dark eyes were just as she remembered them, both intense and rich. But his face somehow made them all the more pleasing for its very handsomeness. She knew him to be five and thirty years and, in truth, he looked exactly his age. But it was an age that seemed to suit him very well and gave him an air of experience and confidence that made him very appealing.

  His olive skin looked smooth, and his jaw was very firm. His features were large and striking and symmetrical, and his smile, when he gave it, displayed perfect teeth. She could not help thinking his darkness made him look a little Mediterranean and she suddenly realized that she was openly staring at him.

  Ella averted her gaze before she could be discovered and instead turned her attention to the rest of the family. Both Patience and Georgiana were tossing their golden heads in a way which made Ella wish that they would not. There was something ridiculous about them, and she could not help feeling a little ashamed to be in their company.

  Her mother stood with forced grace as if she truly were the well-practiced and demure Countess of some standing. Alongside the Earl’s ingratiating manner, Ella knew that she was in for a most uncomfortable afternoon.

  “Well, allow me to introduce you to my family once again, Your Grace.”

  Chapter 11

  Ronald Belville made a big fuss of reintroducing his daughters, making a much practiced little joke of the fact that the last time they had all met, they were all made strangers by the masks of the ball.

  The Duke of Hillington laughed politely, although Ella could tell that he was not greatly amused by it. No doubt he had been in company with many such men who rehearsed their humorous little lines before he arrived.

  At that moment, Ella wondered what it must be like to live that way, to know that nobody in your presence was ever truly themselves, just a shell of themselves trying to impress you with a personality and character that was not their own. It must surely be a very lonely existence in many ways, especially for a man who did not have close family to regularly break the spell of such pretence.

  “This is my oldest daughter, Lady Patience Belville,” the Earl said pompously.

  “How very nice to meet you again, Lady Patience,” the Earl said and smiled.

  “And it is nice to meet you again, Your Grace,” Patience said and bobbed her head prettily.

  “And this, of course, is my other daughter, Lady Georgiana Belville,” the Earl went on and seemed to be finding his confidence.

  However, Ella thought it was confidence ill-deserved since he ought really to have brought his own wife before the Duke ahead of his daughters for an introduction. How very desperate he was to push his daughters to the head of the line.

  “And it is nice to see
you again, Lady Georgiana. I must say, how very alike you are.” He smiled again, although Ella could not help thinking that his heart was not entirely in the room with him.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. And I do hope that you are well,” Georgiana said and smiled as she looked up at him in a most practiced adoring manner. “And I must say how very much I enjoyed the masquerade ball you held at Hillington. Really, it is the finest ball that has been held anywhere that I know of.”

  Ella winced; her stepsister had certainly gone too far too fast.

  “How very kind, Lady Georgiana,” he said, and his smile seemed just a little tighter.

  “And you will remember my wife, Lady Ariadne Dandridge.” The Earl blundered on, seemingly unaware of his youngest daughter’s pushy manner.

  “Lady Dandridge, what a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace, and welcome to our home.” Ariadne spoke her lines with such a flourish that Ella realized they had been as rehearsed as the Earl’s.

  No doubt he had told her exactly what he wanted to say and the manner in which he wanted her to say it. Really, that they thought the Duke would not be able to see through such a charade. But then, of course, it was likely little different from the charades he saw about him each and every day. Why would this be any different? Why would this gain his attention any more than any other?

  “Thank you kindly, Lady Dandridge.”

  The Earl seemed ready to usher the Duke into a seat, but he was stopped in his tracks when the Duke turned his head to look in Ella’s direction. The Earl really had been about to continue their conversation without introducing Ella at all, and the Duke had seen it.

  “Oh yes, of course.” The Earl laughed nervously, making a very good attempt at pretending he had simply forgotten the final member of the household. “This is my stepdaughter, Miss Winfield.”

  Ella could hardly believe the brevity of the introduction. The Earl had called her Miss Winfield, not Miss Ella Winfield. He had introduced her in a way which had made her feel inconsequential, nameless, almost like a governess.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Winfield. How nice it is to make your acquaintance.” The Duke took a step towards her and bowed deeply.

  “I am very pleased to meet you, Your Grace,” Ella said in a quiet voice, hopeful that he would not recognize anything about her.

  “You were not at the masquerade ball last week, I believe?”

  “No, Your Grace.” Her mouth was dry, not just because of the lie, but because she was aware that her stepfather was staring at her furiously from behind the Duke.

  “Why is it that you did not attend with your family?” He narrowed his dark eyes quizzically.

  “I am afraid that I was a little unwell, Your Grace.”

  “What a great shame, Miss Winfield. I trust that you are feeling better now?” He was studying her curiously, and she had the awful feeling that he might recognize her at any moment.

  If only he would stop talking to her; if only he would turn his attention away from her and onto her dreadful stepsisters.

  “Yes, Your Grace, she is very much recovered,” the Earl answered for her, his tone loud enough to attract the Duke’s attention fully. “Do take a seat, Your Grace,” he said and ushered him into the armchair that had been strategically placed on the other side of the table from Patience and Georgiana.

  As the Duke sat down, he turned a little in his seat and seemed to be very cleverly taking in the fact that Ella had been set apart just a little from the rest of them.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace, but there was something that I had wanted Ella to do.” Ariadne had not yet taken her seat and quickly made her way to her daughter’s side. “Ella, my dear, would you go and have a word with the cook about the menu for this evening?”

  “Menu?” Ella said and immediately wished she had not.

  Her confusion had been clear, and the Duke would have been left in no doubt whatsoever that her mother’s request was simply a means of having her daughter removed from the room.

  Ella had never been more embarrassed in her life.

  “Yes, my dear, the menu,” Ariadne said a little more firmly.

  “Yes, of course, Mama,” Ella said and hastened to her feet.

  As she rose to her feet, the Duke did also, displaying very much finer manners than had ever likely existed within the walls of Dandridge Hall when the family was at home alone.

  He inclined his head graciously, and Ella did the same before scurrying away, her cheeks burning with shame.

  The very moment she was outside the drawing room door with it closed firmly behind her, she blinked hard at angry little tears. She knew there was no sense in making her way down to the servants’ area below stairs to have any sort of discussion with the cook, for she knew that no such query over the menu existed. She had simply been rejected from the room, and very publicly so.

  She wondered if her mother would come to regret her hasty decision, even if it had been done to help her husband and his daughters. After all, she had made something of a fool of herself, although it seemed unlikely that the Earl would even notice. There seemed to be a great gap in his education, and that gap, Ella knew well, was simple manners.

  “Miss Winfield?” Suddenly William, the second footman and firm favourite of Violet, was crossing the entrance hall. “Are you alright?” He gave her his typically sunny smile, and she blinked even harder for fear that she would cry in front of him.

  “Yes, I am quite well, William.”

  “But Miss, are you not supposed to be inside the drawing room instead of outside?” He screwed his face up in a way which made her feel much better.

  There was an honest way about William which she hoped would one day not get him into trouble.

  “In truth, I am supposed to be inside, but I fear that my own mother has just banished me.”

  “In front of the Duke?” William hissed incredulously.

  “I am afraid so.” She felt her cheeks flushing again; it seemed her shame would never leave her.

  “I am so sorry, Miss Winfield. Is there anything that I can do? Ought I to run and get Violet for you?”

  “No, I shall manage very well, William. But thank you for your kindness.”

  “But where are you going to go now?” William persisted, his young face full of concern.

  “I am going to get my cloak and take a turn around the grounds. I think I do not wish to be in the hall when the Duke leaves, for I would not wish to see him again.”

  “I understand.” He nodded kindly. “But wait here, I shall run and get your cloak for you, Miss Winfield,” William said, and disappeared instantly.

  Ella moved away from the drawing room door and stood silently by the great entrance. William returned in no time and helped her into her cloak, handing her a warm bonnet to match.

  “I am sorry, Miss Winfield, but I could not find any gloves.”

  “Think nothing of it, William. It is warm enough today, I shall not need gloves.”

  “Very well, Miss,” William said and made a big performance of opening the door for her, treating her like the lady her own mother had refused to recognize.

  “Thank you, William.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss.”

  As soon as Ella reached the bottom of the great stone steps, she marched quickly. She wanted to be as far away from the hall as possible, determining to make her way to the edge of the grounds, perhaps even right off the estate. She would march and march until her humiliation evaporated in the heat of her exertion.

  However, as determined as she was to outrun her anguish, tears of anger and injustice rolled down her cheeks. If the Earl himself had dismissed her from the room, she might well have been humiliated, but rather more amused than anything. It was the fact that it had been her mother, her very own flesh and blood, that had hurt her so.

  It took Ella almost an hour of determined marching to reach the edge of the estate. She had reached a pretty sort of wilderness just a
little way from the great gravel driveway and, her face stinging from so many tears, she sat down on an old fallen tree trunk to put herself to rights again.

  The tree trunk had been cut and must have lain there for many years. Its surface was now shiny with use, and she wondered if it had been left there some generations before as somewhere for a determined walker to take their rest. Whether it had or had not, she was very grateful for it.

  She took a fresh handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown and did what she could to clean up her face. Her eyes were sore and puffy, and she knew that she could not return to Dandridge Hall in such a state. Not only could she not risk crossing paths with the Duke while she was in such a state, but she did not want her mother and stepfather to realize just what a capacity they had to hurt her. She would not give them the upper hand, even if she had to sit out there on that tree trunk all night.