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

by Bridget Barton

  “And you are sure that you have things straight with the housekeeper?”

  “Yes, I have offered to take her shopping list to the butcher if I might be allowed to run a small errand of my own. It is nothing out of the common way, Miss, and the housekeeper seemed to take it in her stride. It is something I have done before, so she does not suspect me of anything.”

  “And you are sure that you can make it over to Lady Belville’s and back before you are missed?”

  “I am convinced. She has already said that William might drive me in the little cart, so we will make good time, I promise.”

  “Well, leave it a good half an hour after I am inside before you come. By then, Lady Brightwell will definitely be settled in the drawing room, and there will be no chance of her hovering near the entrance and seeing you when you come to deliver the note,” Ella said and began to calm down a little. “But I really do think you must wear a disguise of some sort.”

  “I will wear an oversized bonnet, Miss, and tuck my hair well into it. People rarely take notice of maids, so I am sure that that will be disguise enough.”

  “Well, I take notice of you, my dear.” Ella smiled at her warmly.

  “I know, Miss Winfield, and you are very kind.”

  “And I am very grateful.”

  “When you think about it all, it is quite exciting, isn’t it?”

  “You truly mean that! Violet, you really are very spirited.” Ella laughed.

  “It is quite a thing to be able to help a Duke without him even knowing it,” Violet whispered. “Although that does mean if the plan works, that he will still make his way to have dinner with Lady Caroline. Perhaps that is not such a good thing.”

  “But why not?” Ella said.

  “Well, it is just another young lady for the Duke to have to think about.”

  “Well, I am sure he does not mind.”

  “Yes but …” Violet seemed suddenly stuck for words.

  “You really are the sweetest person,” Ella said with a smile. “But I am the lost and bedraggled daughter of a deceased minor Baron, not the sort of young lady a Duke would ordinarily fall in love with. But it does warm me to know that your romantic heart is still thriving.”

  “But is it really so impossible? After all, not every young lady the Duke has been introduced to so far has had a title, have they?”

  “No, but the ones without title have a good deal of wealth behind them. Unfortunately, in this day and age, a woman needs one or the other, it would appear.” Ella laughed.

  “It is not a romantic notion, is it?” Violet said a little hopelessly.

  “No, but it is realistic.” Ella shrugged and realised that she was more affected by it all than she was letting on.

  “Well then, we must hope that the Duke of Hillington is much more interested in romance than practicality,” Violet said forcefully, clearly having decided that she was not going to give up hope just yet.

  “Oh, Violet.” Ella smiled and gently touched Violet’s cheek. “Promise me that you will never change, my dear.”

  “I promise.”

  “And promise me you will be very, very careful this afternoon.”

  “You have my word, Miss Winfield.”

  Later that afternoon, as Ella made her way into Lady Brightwell’s drawing room, she wondered if Violet could keep that promise. She looked this way and that for any sign of the Duke and could see none.

  It had not occurred to her that he would arrive later than her, and it had certainly not occurred to her that he might not arrive at all. But, of course, he had not expressly declared that he would be attending the bridge, only that he was pleased that Ella was going to.

  Perhaps it was nothing more than the idea that she would have some amusement that week that pleased him. Perhaps he had never intended to attend at all himself.

  And, if either one of those eventualities came to pass, Violet’s arrival at the door with a message for the Duke could prove problematic.

  In the worst of all cases, the Duke might arrive late and find himself on the doorstep at the same time as Violet. For one thing, he might recognise her from Dandridge and, for another, if he read the note in her presence, then he might make demands of her in respect of the identity of the sender.

  Ella began to wish that she had not embarked on any of this. If everything was found out now, she knew she could not begin to explain it.

  And she still did not know the Duke well enough to be certain that he would not be angry with her for her continued deception.

  For all that she was warning the Duke against deception all around him, was she not equally guilty of the same thing herself? He was a clever man, and there was a very good chance he would see it that way.

  “From the look on your face, I can state with certainty that you are not at all interested in the game that you are pretending to watch.” The Duke appeared suddenly and whispered into her ear so that the two pairs playing at the bridge table closest to her would not hear him.

  “Your Grace, you startled me,” she said and let out a great sigh; a sigh of pure relief.

  “So, what occupies your mind so much today, Miss Winfield?” he said with a laugh. “And please do not try to tell me that you were concentrating on this game, for it is clear to me that you were not.”

  “As is often the case, Sir, I was pondering upon subjects of little matter.” She smiled evasively and was strangely pleased when he began to laugh.

  “I do not believe that for a moment, you looked far too occupied for little thoughts.”

  “But enough little thoughts put together are surely enough to occupy a person?”

  “Perhaps, but I do not believe it in your case.” He looked around the room briefly and then indicated the couch and chair where they had sat on their last visit to Lady Brightwell’s. “Shall we sit down before somebody expects us to play?”

  “Do you not wish to play, Your Grace?”

  “Good heavens, no,” he said in a whisper and gave a comical shudder.

  “And if you do not mind me asking, why is it that you continue to attend a standing invitation at a regular bridge afternoon when you do not seem to care for the amusement?” Immediately they were back at their ease, and Ella began to wonder what Violet would make of it all.

  There was something about the Duke that was somehow less formal than anybody she had ever met. And yet he managed to be so without really breaking any of the bounds that seemed to hold them all so tightly.

  But then, did she not manage just the same thing in his company? Now that they had shared a little something of themselves, been just a little open, she wondered if they were not starting to enjoy a little of the fun and frankness of their first, anonymous meeting.

  “Because if I do not, I will never hear the end of it. Constance is a dear friend and somewhat motherly in her approach. In short, she is one of the only people on this earth I am truly afraid of.”

  “And I do not believe that for a minute, Your Grace.” Ella laughed, thoroughly enjoying herself.

  “She is not as tender as you think her, believe me,” he said and made a show of looking around the room for any sign that Lady Brightwell was bearing down upon them.

  “Your Grace!” Ella scolded playfully.

  “But enough of that, you have managed to evade me once again, have you not? Really, I think you are too clever for your own good.”

  “How so?” Ella tried hard to look entirely innocent.

  “You have diverted me from the question of what it was which weighed so heavily upon your mind just now.”

  “Whatever it was, it cannot have been so important, for I seem to have forgotten all about it.” She laughed.

  “You are teasing me, Miss Winfield.”

  “I am sure that you are well able to look after yourself in that regard, Your Grace.”

  “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But I am bound to say that you have beaten me this time.”

  Catching the attention of one of Lady
Brightwell’s maids, the Duke very quickly secured them a tray of tea. He seemed keen to keep her there, to have their little conversation.

  Ella was beginning to realise that there was perhaps a little more to their acquaintance than simply the kindness and caring of a man who had witnessed a young woman’s distress. It struck her that he was coming to enjoy their conversations and had even, if she could let her imagination run away with her for a moment, attended Lady Brightwell’s home that day with the idea of seeing her there.

  The very thought of it made her feel suddenly excited, even romantic. It gave her something of a fluttering in her stomach, a little secret, a fancy that she could draw to mind at any moment when she returned to Dandridge Hall. It would certainly do much to keep her occupied and take her mind off her family circumstances if nothing else.

  But was that the pathway to danger? Was she setting her heart on a road that would only lead to disappointment? After all, the man was a Duke. He might be amusing and personable, even a little informal, but he was still a man of duty. He was still the same man whose attention to duty had led him to allow his attorney to search for a wife for him. It was all so confusing.

  “Ah, Constance has spied us, I see,” he said, and Ella looked up to see Lady Brightwell hurrying through her drawing room with an intent expression.

  When she saw that her friend carried a letter in her hand, she realised immediately that it must be her own note. It startled her a little because, for some reason, Ella had imagined that the butler would hand the note to the Duke himself rather quietly.

  “Hello, my dears,” Lady Brightwell said in her customary warm fashion. “You are a popular man indeed, Your Grace. I have a note for you.” It was clear that Lady Brightwell was full of curiosity.

  “Really?” he said and sat up a little straighter in his seat. “Who from?”

  “I have no idea,” she said and handed it to him. “A young woman handed it to my butler at the door.” Ella’s heart began to pound, and her mouth went horribly dry; surely the Duke would not read it out.

  “But who was she?”

  “Again, I have no idea,” Lady Brightwell said. “She merely stated that she had been asked to deliver a note to the Duke of Hillington, handed it to my butler, and then darted away.”

  “I see.” And there was a flash of recognition in the Duke’s eyes.

  Ella realised that he was undoubtedly thinking of the note he had been handed by the curiously dressed little man outside his club in the dead of night.

  Ella busied herself with pouring tea and tried to divert her attention away from the Duke altogether as he quickly opened the note. But she could not take her eyes off him entirely and, as he read it, she saw him smile. It was a brief smile, but a very genuine one.

  So, he had recognised the little clue that had identified the well-wisher as the stranger at his masquerade ball. And not only that, but he seemed to be somewhat pleased by it.

  Had he really enjoyed that night, that briefest of conversations, as much as Ella had?

  “Not bad news, is it? You look a little peculiar,” Lady Brightwell said in an obvious attempt to prize information from him.

  “To be truthful, Constance, I cannot work out if it is good news or bad just yet. But it is certainly something that I will need to concentrate on, that is for certain,” the Duke said with a secret smile of his own as he neatly folded the note and tucked it away into the inside pocket of his tailcoat. “Are you going to join us for tea?”

  As the three of them settled down to comfortable conversation, Ella was greatly relieved that her little plan had, thus far, gone without a hitch. All that remained now was for the Duke to act upon the information that she had so secretly provided him with.

  Chapter 21

  As the Duke made himself ready, with the help of his valet, for his evening at the home of the Earl of Mortcombe, he realised that he was in good spirits. But, as much as he thought Lady Caroline the only sensible prospect on the list of suitable young ladies that his attorney had drawn up, he knew that it was not on her account that he was in such good humour.

  Once again, he had been plunged into thoughts of the masked woman, that wonderful stranger who had so surprised and delighted him at the masquerade ball. She was somehow in his midst again and seemingly watching him.

  But how was that possible? How could that anonymous lady watch him without him knowing? Or perhaps that was exactly how she was managing it, which would certainly make her something of a master, or indeed mistress, of anonymity.

  She had certainly not been playing at it when he had spoken to her at the ball. No wonder she was so at ease with herself.

  And then, on top of all his musings and excitement at the prospect of seeing her again, there was the idea that she was trying to warn him against something. No doubt it was the masked woman who had sent that scruffy little man to her with a message, the first message she had sent.

  Was there really some particular danger? Was somebody really trying to mislead him in some way? If that was the case, only one person sprang to mind, and that was the Earl of Dandridge. But how on earth was that ridiculous man in a position to steer Rufus at all? He was a Duke, after all. And he could hardly be deceiving him in any way about either of his daughters because their own behaviour and demeanour proclaimed most clearly exactly the sort of young ladies they truly were.

  There was certainly no hiding it, at any rate. Although he knew his thought a little harsh, still it gave Rufus a moment of amusement, and he chuckled suddenly, much to the surprise of his valet who was painstakingly brushing lint from the back of his tailcoat.

  “Forgive me, Jones,” Rufus said and chuckled again.

  “Not at all, Your Grace,” Jones responded dutifully.

  With his merriment over, Rufus returned to the matter at hand. If the Earl was the person who intended to deceive him, then he thought it hardly mattered. But if it was somebody else, somebody quite unknown, ought he to be concerned?

  And another thought, a much more pleasing one, was warming at the edge of his mind. What if there was no deceiver at all? What if nobody at all sought to steer him in any direction? What if the masked lady simply sought to dissuade him from making a hasty marriage?

  After all, on that wonderful night, he had all but opened his heart to her and told her of his lengthy search for a woman he could actually love, one whom he trusted loved him in return and for himself. What if she was trying to help him, to somehow stop him making a grave error?

  Better still, what if she had her own reasons for doing so? Was it beyond the realms of possibility that he had provoked the same interest in her heart and mind as she had in his?

  When his valet left him, Rufus went to his nightstand and removed the note once more from the drawer.

  “Your Grace,

  Forgive my continued interference in the matter of your matrimony, but I must seek to warn you once more. In your attempt to make your engagement with Lord Mortcombe and his family, I would beg that you reconsider the route you take. You must not go in an expected pattern at all, but you must seem to change your mind at the last minute. You must not tell anybody, and do not explain yourself to your driver at all. Please believe that I have your best interests at heart.

  With kindest regards,

  A Well Wisher.”

  The words were intriguing enough, but his eyes flew, as they had done at every reading, to the tiny drawing of the mask. It had to be her; it could be nobody else.

  But how did his masked woman know anything of his engagement this week? How could she possibly have known that he was due to have dinner with Mortcombe and his daughter? Unless, of course, she was somehow acquainted with the Mortcombe household.

  His head was beginning to ache with so many possibilities, and the idea that he could come to no conclusion at all was not a little frustrating.

  He could not work out if his masked lady did not want him to go to Mortcombe at all or if she simply wanted him to get there s
afely. If only she had been just a little more explicit. And if only she had realised she had only to say the word, and he would relinquish any idea of marrying, any idea at all.

  Rufus thought about his intended route through the county and realised that it was, after all, the most obvious choice. But if he changed his route entirely, he would never know why it was that the masked woman had deemed it necessary to do so.

  If somebody else sought to end his plans, he would surely only discover it by making his way along the original route in the first place. And if the masked lady sought only to disarrange things, to make him think twice about his engagement that evening, again following his intended route was the only way to discover it. If he made the journey without hindrance, then he would know that the masked lady had invented the entire thing.