Bewitching The Forbidden Duke (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Turning back to his father, he offered him a breezy smile. “A hunt seems like a splendid idea.”

  Chapter 18

  Complications

  Melissa ventured out of her room for the first time in days, peering down the corridor to see if anyone was about. She could not help the guilty leap of her heart as she saw the upstairs maid carrying a chamber pot down the stairs.

  Did she see Patrick leave?

  She minced down the corridor, alert for the sound of anyone approaching. She was still surprised when she bumped into her sister at the stairs. She froze, waiting for accusations to start flying. Her sister glared at her and then stepped past her without another word. Melissa watched her stomp to her chambers, a frown marring her forehead.

  She continued on downstairs in search of her mother and bumped into her, at the front door.

  “Mother!” her heart was pounding and she feared that all her secrets were apparent on her face.

  “Melissa! Did you finally decide to rejoin the living?”

  “Uh…” Melissa’s face colored as she stared guiltily at her mother.

  “Hmm, I see you haven’t recovered your powers of speech.”

  “Uh…”

  The Duchess sighed, rolling her eyes and stepping past her daughter. Melissa watched her sway down the hall, toward the parlor. She sighed, looking toward the door. What she needed was some time to herself. Perhaps a walk would do her some good, she decided, and so she ran back upstairs to change her shoes and retrieve her lady’s maid.

  As they came downstairs, they were surprised to find that The Duke of Cheshmill had come to call. Melissa froze, staring as he was ushered into the parlor to see Melissa’s mother.

  “What do you think that is about?” she whispered to Brynn. Her lady’s maid shrugged unconcernedly.

  “I expect we shall find out soon enough.”

  “Yes. That is what I’m afraid of.”

  “Well, let’s not borrow trouble now. The sun is shining and Hyde Park beckons. Now put on your shawl and let us take the air.”

  Melissa turned to Brynn and grinned. “Yes, mother.”

  Brynn snorted in return, turning to nod at the footman guarding the door as they passed. He would follow them at a discreet distance, far away enough that they could converse in peace. Brynn set a leisurely pace, which Melissa matched unthinkingly, her mind still in the house, wondering why The Duke of Cheshmill was calling on her mother.

  “Do you think Patrick told him already?” she asked Brynn.

  “Told who what?” Brynn glanced at her in confusion.

  “His Grace. Do you think Patrick already told his father about our plans?”

  Brynn gave her a jaded look. “I don’t know much about eloping, but I do know that you don’t go telling people about it before it happens.”

  “Oh,” Melissa’s face colored as she realized the idiocy of her question, “of course. He wouldn’t tell his father he’s planning to elope. I probably shouldn’t tell anyone either.”

  “No, you definitely should not.” Brynn sounded very firm about it and Melissa nodded attentively, her eyes wide on her lady’s maid. “You should keep it to yourself, along with the fact that a certain man visited you in your bedchamber.” Brynn’s voice got progressively lower until the last word was just a hiss of breath.

  “Uh, of course, I know that.” Melissa could feel her heart rabbiting in her chest, “It’s just all very overwhelming.”

  Brynn reached out and squeezed her hand in sympathy. “It’s not too late. You can change your mind if you want.”

  Melissa took a deep and shaky breath. “I do and I don’t. I’m so scared, Brynn. I don’t know what’s going to happen. At the same time, the thought of being with Patrick, of having him for my own…” she turned earnest eyes on Brynn, shaking her head for lack of words, “It’s everything.”

  * * *

  Brynn held her gaze for a long while, noting the deepening of her hazel eyes to the color of dew-dropped grass in the early morning. She could see all the emotion swirling there, from the wonder of being wanted to the trepidation at all possible consequences. She knew that Melissa needed reassurance, that the choices she had made were valid.

  But Brynn couldn’t give them to her.

  She knew all too well the cruelty and malice that resided in The Duchess’ breast. She knew that the consequences would be dire if Her Grace got wind of their plan before they could carry it out. Yet she wished with all her heart for the spark that had been lit in Melissa when Patrick chose her would be protected long enough to reach its full potential.

  Even as a twelve-year-old girl, she had looked upon her new mistress and felt Melissa’s loneliness like the prick of a splinter in her nail. She had felt compelled to do everything she could to relieve the isolation her mistress was living under. Melissa’s solitude was born of rejection–her father barely noticed her and her mother pushed her away. Her sister, who basked in the warmth and admiration of both parents, had no time for her.

  Melissa had flitted from one form of rebellion to another, both overt and covert with Brynn’s help. But this, her love for the Marquess was no rebellion. It was a genuine connection and awakening of hope. It was the possibility of family and love.

  Brynn wanted Melissa to have all of it. She feared, however, that The Duchess would find a way to take this from her daughter too.

  “We should go to Gunter’s and get some ice. Perhaps listen to the latest on-dit,” Melissa suddenly said.

  Brynn gave her a look. “I’ve never known you to be interested in gossip.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to know what they are saying now. It might be useful.” Her eyes shone bright with excitement and inquisitiveness.

  Brynn sighed, rolling her eyes as she bit her lip so as not to smile. “Fine then. We shall go. But you are buying.”

  Melissa laughed. “But of course I am.”

  * * *

  “Good evening, Your Grace.” The Duke of Cheshmill bowed to her very correctly, his face the very picture of propriety. Thalia was not fooled.

  “I have done all I can, Herbert. There is no more that I can do.”

  His Grace waved her words away. “That is not why I am here. I wish to invite you to a hunt.”

  “A hunt you say? Why do you intend to kill my daughter and call it an accident?”

  The Duke gave a dry laugh and Thalia’s heart went cold. Had she jokingly unearthed The Duke’s intentions for her youngest daughter?

  “Of course not. I simply wanted us to get closer, as soon to be in-laws do. My son is most agreeable to this plan and I think that whatever fancies he harbored have been cast aside now for the greater good.”

  “Is that so?” Thalia almost told him that his son had been by, demanding difficult answers but then she thought again. She would not put it past The Duke to harm her youngest to achieve his aims and she had put the perfect way to do that in his mind just now. It would be best to play along and perhaps he had persuaded Lord Bergon of the error of his ways.

  “That is so, Your Grace. He told me so himself.” Herbert looked particularly smug as he gave her this news. No doubt he reveled in the control he held over his offspring.

  Thalia shuddered inwardly even as she smiled at him with relief. “Well, that is good to know. All the hysterics were getting a bit tedious.”

  Herbert gave a sardonic, knowing smile. “Yes, your younger daughter can be quite trying. She must get it from her father.”

  Thalia looked away, her face paling. “Well, if that is all…”

  Herbert held out a sealed envelope to her. “Here is the invitation. I shall await your RSVP.”

  Thalia nodded. “I shall be sure to pass it on to my husband.”

  Herbert gave her a bow. “Much obliged, Your Grace.”

  He walked smartly out of the room and Thalia watched him go with a sinking heart. Once Herbert had a foothold in her family, she would never be able to get rid of him. Her eyes narrowed in thought.
r />   Perhaps it’s time to think of an exit strategy.

  * * *

  Nicholas Harvey, Earl of Nordam had no idea why The Duke of Cheshmill was so insistent that he attend the hunt he was throwing, but he was quite sure that His Grace’s motives were not good. While he had gotten over his tendresse for The Duchess of Greyfield quite some time ago, he was still uncomfortable in her presence. Spending a substantial amount of time in her company was not his idea of an enjoyable time.

  The dismissive manner with which she treated him was not just a blow to his ego. It made him wonder if anything they had shared between them had ever been genuine. More than the blow to his ego, it made him doubt his own judgment.

  He well remembered how besotted he had been with her, spending his days dreaming of the stolen moments that Cheshmill made possible. She had returned his ardor in equal measure, he thought. He cringed now to think of the frantic plans he had made, the reckless risks he had been prepared to undertake, all in her name.

  He remembered with embarrassment the craven despair that had crushed him when she ended their affair.

  “It was nothing more than a fling,” she had said callously, dismissively, not even bothering to look him in the eye. “It meant nothing.”

  Those words still haunted him sometimes, in his deepest nightmares. To this day, he failed to understand what had prompted her to be so cruel. He did not want to lay the blame solely at her feet for his reluctance to wed but protecting his heart had played a significant role in his current status. He knew his heart well, knew that if he should join together with a woman in holy matrimony, he would need for the connection between them to be real. He could not manage a marriage of convenience.

  Part of him sometimes wondered if, despite everything he now knew about her, he was still in love with Thalia Alford. He dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred to him. There was no way he could let that be true.

  * * *

  The summons to her mother’s rooms took Rose by surprise. She quickly ran through everything that had happened recently, looking for some misstep she had made. There was nothing that jumped out to her and so she had to assume that her mother had some news or instructions she needed to impart.

  She slipped on her house shoes and padded down the corridor, anxiety beating in her breast in time with her heart. Although she had her mother’s approval, unlike Melissa, she always felt as if she was walking a tight rope. One misstep might have her relegated to the eternal purgatory her sister occupied.

  “Mother?” she slipped into the room, a tentative smile on her face.

  “Rose, have a seat.” The Duchess didn’t look up from her embroidery.

  Rose crept to the nearest sofa and sat down, eyes on her mother.

  “His Grace, The Duke of Cheshmill came by today.”

  “Oh?” Rose felt her throat lock.

  Had Lord Bergon said something about her?

  “Yes, he wanted to issue a personal invitation to a hunt. He seems to think his son will have no objections.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was under the impression he was resistant to your engagement?”

  “Yes, uh, yes, he was adamant about wanting to know why I wanted to be engaged. He did not seem to believe that I could simply want him.”

  The Duchess snorted. “Or he did not want to believe it.” Finally, she looked at her daughter. “This hunt is your last chance, Rose. Make sure to take maximum advantage and get Lord Bergon right where you want him. Do not stint to use any means within your arsenal, my dear. Mistakes will not be tolerated.”

  Rose swallowed. “Yes, mother.”

  “Good, you may go.” The Duchess returned to her sewing, as impassive as ever. Rose slowly got to her feet and left the room, thinking hard. If His Grace, The Duke of Cheshmill thought his son was coming around, then it must be true. Her heart leaped in her breast as she resolved at once to call on the dressmaker and have a few gowns made. Perhaps a riding habit though, of course, she had no intention of actually going on the hunt. It wasn’t ladylike. She left such wild shenanigans to Melissa.

  Honestly one would think that the girl would learn. Always running off like a wild animal instead of comporting herself like a lady. And then she wondered why mother was always annoyed with her!

  Rose shook her head ruefully as she summoned her lady’s maid. There was no time to waste. She would call on the dressmaker at once, as well as the shoemaker and the haberdasher. Her supply of creams and lotions was also insufficient for her needs. Rose skipped up the stairs, anticipating a full day of shopping. Aside from dancing, it was her most favorite activity. She would venture out to the Pantheon Bazaar where she could pick up everything she needed.

  Rubbing her hands together gleefully, she gathered her purse and changed her shoes, put on a bonnet and a shawl.

  “The carriage is waiting outside, My Lady,” her lady’s maid informed her. Rose nodded, sweeping out of the house in the company of her maid and two footmen, a smile playing on her lips.

  * * *

  Melissa and Brynn were just walking back from Gunter’s when they saw Rose alighting from the family carriage in front of the Pantheon.

  “What is she doing?” Melissa asked.

  Brynn turned a disbelieving look on her. “Clearly she’s shopping.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Because she likes it?”

  “I know my sister, Brynn. I know that set of her shoulders. She's excited about something. Why would she be excited when Patrick just broke his engagement to her?”

  “Perhaps everybody is not as taken by Lord Bergon as you are, My Lady.”

  Melissa snorted derisively. “I’ve known Rose my entire life. She does not take well to losing. Does that look like somebody who has lost to you?”

  Brynn really looked at Rose, ordering her footmen about as she swept into the Bazaar, head held high. “No.”

  “So? What do you think is transpiring?”

  “Do you suppose it has something to do with His Grace’s visit?”

  “I fear so.” Their eyes locked in fear as they tried to imagine what nefarious plans The Duke might have for his son and Rose.

  “In any case, if The Duke has some sort of plan, your Lord Bergon is not aware of them.”

  “Or, he is just playing with me.” Melissa’s voice went dead.

  Chapter 19

  Artemis

  The entire family was present for dinner which was unusual in itself because The Duke tended to stay late at the palace, catering to His Majesty. The atmosphere was tense as a result; Melissa had not come down for a meal for several days while The Duchess had been taking meals in her chambers.

  The butler scurried about, trying to ensure that the meal was served without a hitch. The conversation was stilted as nobody seemed to know what to say.

  “Melissa, it is good to see you out and about again,” her father commented and she looked up at him with an acknowledging nod.

  “I feel much better now,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, your mother is feeling better too, which is excellent news.”

  “It is indeed,” Melissa avoided looking at either her mother or Rose. She wondered if her father knew of her mother’s deception.

  “Yes, well it is fortuitous that we are both feeling better because The Duke of Cheshmill has invited us all for a hunt at the week’s end.”

  Melissa stiffened, sitting ramrod straight in her seat. “I beg your pardon?”

  Her mother turned to her; eyes triumphant. “Did you not hear me, Melissa? Honestly, you need to learn to pay attention. I said that The Duke has invited us all for a hunt. After all, when his son and Rose are married, we shall be in-laws.”

  Melissa just stared at her; mouth open, unable to comprehend what she was saying. “What do you mean when his son and Rose are married? Does he have another son?”

  Her mother barked a rather unpleasant laugh. “Why would he need another son, Melissa? Have you completely taken leave of your
senses?”

  Melissa shook her head, unable to speak, eyes wide with shock. “When did he decide this?”

  The Duchess inclined her head, watching Melissa’s every reaction. “Why just this afternoon.”