Bewitching The Forbidden Duke (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  If we are to elope as we planned, we may have to spend years relying on no one but each other. It is a grave undertaking and if you do not feel up to it, then please break my heart now. Let us end this before something irrevocable has happened.

  I say ‘something irrevocable’ even though I know that I have already given my heart away and I do not know how to get it back.

  In any case, I expect that I shall see you at the hunt and you can give me your answer then.

  I am now and remain forever,

  Yours faithfully,

  P

  Melissa gave a deep sigh as she came to the end of the letter. It was a bit more reprimanding than she had expected but strangely enough, it was that reprimanding tone that reassured her.

  He was not trying to persuade her, as a rake would–at least she assumed that was what a rake would do–he was simply stating his case and leaving her to form her own conclusions. And he was right; perhaps she had succumbed to suspicion too fast. In her defense, there was a lot of evidence to support her mother’s words.

  But what if they were both telling the truth?

  After all, her mother might well assume that Patrick was in on whatever blackmailing scheme his father was running when in actual fact, he was just a pawn. That would explain all of it.

  She perked up at the thought, relieved to find an explanation that did not mean either her mother or the love of her life was a villain.

  “What does it say?”

  She jumped, having forgotten that Brynn was still in the room. She shrugged, smiling at her best friend. “It says I should have more faith.”

  “I told you so!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Melissa looked back down at the letter, feeling a sudden longing to be back in Patrick’s arms. It felt like forever since she had seen him last. Perhaps she could get her sister to invite him for dinner soon. It might not slake her thirst to just look at him, but it was better than nothing.

  * * *

  Rose was practicing her scales the next morning when Melissa walked in. Just from the look on her face, Rose knew she was up to something. Her sister was nowhere near as subtle as she thought she was.

  Melissa came and sat down at the pianoforte and began to play counterpoint. Rose stopped playing at once, staring at her sister.

  “What is it?”

  “What do you mean? Can't we spend time together without fighting?”

  Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Since when do you want to spend time with me?”

  “I have always wanted us to be sisters, Rose. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  Rose tittered. “Perhaps because it’s never happened before.”

  Melissa sighed, she found Rose’s words extremely tiresome. “You’re the one who pushes me away, Rose. You always have.”

  Rose stared at her in disbelief. “You antagonize mother all the time, you do not comport yourself like a lady and you expect me to aid you in these endeavors?”

  Melissa regarded her sadly. “I just thought that we might do more than fight.”

  “We do,” Rose said with an amused half smile.

  Honestly, Melissa is so full of melodrama.

  Her sister sighed, looking away and shaking her head. “So, your beau, will he be by for dinner?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I just want to know if I should make other arrangements for my meal. I’m not going to sit there and watch the both of you.”

  Rose smiled. “You’re not? That just might give me the incentive to invite him.”

  Melissa inclined her head at her. “You see. This is what I mean. You always seem determined to hurt me.”

  Rose looked away. She could not believe that Melissa was daring to make their tense relationship somehow her fault. She huffed a laugh and resumed playing her scales. “You should find somewhere else to eat tonight because I will be extending an invitation for Lord Bergon to join us.”

  Melissa stood abruptly, nodded jerkily and took off at something of a run. Rose watched her go. “You see. You can’t even walk away with dignity like any other young lady. You have to run off like some sort of monkey.” she sneered before going back to her scales with a slight head shake.

  * * *

  Melissa tried very hard not to smile as she walked away. She knew her sister well and the only way she would have agreed to do anything Melissa asked was if she thought that she was hurting her.

  Melissa really didn’t understand why her sister was so vindictive and what she could possibly have done to make her that way. She could barely remember a time when they got along. Perhaps when they were very young. In any case, she had got what she wanted; she would see Patrick this evening. Her mind turned to gowns, mentally going through her wardrobe to see what she was going to wear.

  She could not help the happiness in her belly at the thought of seeing him again. Perhaps they could steal a moment to speak in private. Even if they didn’t, just to see him would be sufficient to assuage any remaining doubts she might have.

  * * *

  Patrick was surprised, but pleased, at Lady Rose’s letter of invitation. Dinner with the Greyfields was one of the only ways he could see Melissa without offending propriety. Once he overcame his anger with her mistrust, he was able to see why she would be suspicious. As far as her family knew, he was still engaged to Lady Rose and now his father had invited them on a hunt to get to know the family better.

  He could see how that was confusing.

  As he rang the bell and waited to be let in, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He would find a way to clear up that confusion tonight.

  Chapter 23

  Dinner and a Show

  Melissa’s heart was pounding in her chest as she sat quietly in the drawing room, one hand placed over the other on her lap. She was dressed in a forest-green gown with a low neckline that made her eyes shine and complemented her complexion–at least according to Brynn. She wore a simple ruby brooch on her chest and ruby earbobs. Her dark hair was swept up in a beehive. She looked as pretty as she possibly could.

  Rose was sitting in the settee across from her, glaring. Melissa kept the smile off her face but she suspected that Rose might have figured out that she had been tricked.

  Oh well, too late now.

  Melissa shrugged internally and avoided Rose’s eyes as she tried not to look too smug. The butler was at the door, announcing Lord Bergon’s presence and then he was in the room, dominating it with his presence. The Duke of Greyfield was out of town, having accompanied the Regent to Bath, so it was just the three women present.

  Lord Bergon kissed the tips of fingers and was very complimentary to everyone but Melissa had seen how his eyes darkened when he looked at her; how he squeezed her fingers extra hard and his lips just barely missed skimming over her gloved hand. He might have looked in her eyes just a tad longer than was polite, but Melissa wasn’t complaining.

  She could feel her heart thudding dully in her throat and wondered to herself how she could ever have doubted this gentleman. Her mother was watching her keenly and so she tried to seem as indifferent as possible, a task that she found almost impossible.

  Patrick made sure to make pleasant conversation and keep them entertained, including them all in his banter. Melissa tried not to stare too much but it was hard. Patrick really could be quite a pleasant fellow. She hid a smile and swept her eyelashes downward to hide the shine in her eyes, focusing on the roast pigeon on her plate. She was sure it was quite delicious–they had a French cook, so of course it was–but it might as well have been sawdust for all she could taste it.

  “Are you looking forward to the hunt this weekend?” Patrick was ostensibly speaking to The Duchess but his eyes darted toward her for just a second and she bit her lip to avoid smiling.

  “I expect that we shall enjoy ourselves,” Her Grace said drily.

  “Yes. My stepmother has quite a few activities planned.”

  Melissa turned to watch her mother’s face
at the mention of Patrick’s stepmother. She knew for a fact that her mother considered the other woman beneath her touch.

  “That is excellent.” Melissa didn’t miss the slight grimace before her mother replaced it with a smile.

  Melissa giggled. She tried to turn it into a cough but she knew she had fooled no one. They were all polite enough to pretend to believe her, however.

  “Shall we take our digestif in the conservatory?” Rose proposed with a significant smile at Patrick. Melissa’s eyes narrowed.

  “Of course, if you so wish,” Patrick, ever gallant, agreed.

  They all retired to the conservatory where the butler served them dessert.

  “Your oranges are doing well,” Patrick ventured to say.

  “Thank you. I enjoy taking care of them. It’s a very soothing pastime,” The Duchess smiled.

  Patrick nodded. “Yes, at my country estate, I have a few lemon trees. They are not doing this well, however.”

  “Is that so? I look forward to visiting there.” Rose leaned toward him, staring eagerly at his face.

  “Mmm,” Patrick replied noncommittally and Melissa looked toward the trees to keep from laughing.

  “And how are you doing, Lady Melissa? You haven’t said much this evening.” Patrick’s eyes were boring into her, and she could not but raise an eyebrow at his tone.

  “Oh, I am fine, thank you kindly. I have simply been enjoying the conversation.” She could feel her face heat up as his attention fell wholly on her and knew there was no chance that her mother hadn’t seen it too.

  Melissa sighed inwardly.

  This is so much harder than it looks.

  * * *

  Patrick lingered by the doorway, hoping to steal a moment with Melissa but Rose stuck to him like a burr, smiling hopefully up at him. He wanted to push her away because he could see just the tip of Melissa’s gown hovering around the corner. Rose was no fool, however, and it was not worth the aggravation it would cause to excuse himself. So, he took his hat and coat and left instead.

  Behind him, he heard the girl sigh and wished he could do the same.

  As he rode home, his thoughts turned to the hunt; and the Greyfields’ clearly unenthusiastic response to it. Perhaps it hadn’t been such an excellent idea after all. The Duchesses were not really enamored of each other, he did not want to give Lady Rose any more opportunities to corner him and Melissa was uncomfortable with the entire notion.

  He knew however that it wasn’t the Greyfields’ comfort that interested his father. It occurred to him that he might benefit from having a deeper knowledge of what exactly had happened to cause the scandal which had set them all on this road. So far, he had not heard much aside from whispers and cutting remarks about what his father did. Even those whispers were unbelievable to him. He did not think his father capable of such things.

  But what if he is?

  Patrick pushed the thought away, but it stuck to him like a burr.

  “Stenwick will have some answers,” he said as he changed direction and headed for White’s instead of his home.

  He found his old friend just where he thought he would be at this time of night; at the whist table.

  “May I speak with you privately?” he whispered into his ear and the Earl immediately threw down his cards and got to his feet with a nasty quip aimed at the skill of the high flyers around the table. In return, there were some loud protests–allusions as to how Stenwick employed his genitals–before Stenwick was able to extract himself. Finally, however, they were able to retire to a darkened corner of the room to speak in private.

  “Go on then, open the budget. What’s got you so miffed old friend?”

  “I am not miffed, merely...” Patrick paused to find the right word.

  “Awakening?” Stenwick asked looking him over shrewdly.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “So how can I help?”

  Patrick sighed, put his elbow on the table like some pedestrian and leaned forward. “Tell me everything that you know about what my father allegedly did that is causing so much talk.”

  Stenwick sighed. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  Patrick shook his head. “I’m sure I don’t. But it has caused significant repercussions in my life. I feel that I should know instead of just boxing at shadows.”

  “You’ve never wanted to know before. Why now?”

  “You’re right. I’ve never wanted to know. I’ve been content to live in the dark and do as I’m told. That is not possible anymore. I have to know what I am contending with and I have to know how true everything might be.”

  Stenwick sighed. “It’s true. All of it. I know for sure.”

  “How would you?”

  “I took it upon myself to know. I spoke with individuals directly involved and they told me what happened.”

  “What individuals?”

  “The girl’s family, her beau and your father’s former steward.”

  Patrick stared at him in surprise. “I thought he absconded. Where did you find him?”

  Stenwick sighed. “He did not abscond. He was let go and ended up on a ship to the New World. The girl is in the almshouse according to rumor. I haven’t been able to find her.”

  “In the almshouse,” Patrick’s voice became rather high at this news, “with her baby?”

  Stenwick gave him a look that stated quite clearly that his friend thought he was an idiot. Patrick nodded and sighed.

  “I have to find them.”

  “Why?” Stenwick seemed very surprised which was gratifying because it took a lot to surprise his friend.

  “Because that is my brother or sister,” Patrick said as if it should be obvious.

  “And? Will you take him in and treat him as your ward? Everybody will know, and that reputation your father is working so hard to protect will be gone.”

  Patrick closed his eyes and swallowed. “I cannot worry about that. The child is innocent.”

  Stenwick huffed out an annoyed breath, giving Patrick the stink eye. “Fine. I will help you find her.”

  Patrick smiled. “You’re a good friend, Driscoll.”

  The Earl snorted. “I’m your only friend. Now leave me alone, I have inquiries to escalate. Don’t touch it yourself. If your father even suspects what you’re up to, we’re going to have a lot more problems than we currently do.”

  Patrick nodded and then froze. “He wanted to use the Greyfields to salvage his reputation. And I’ve been doing everything I can to help.”

  Stenwick nodded. “Well, he is your father.”

  “Well, what should I do now?” Patrick’s eyes were wide with fear, as he waited for Stenwick to tell him what to do. His friend leaned forward so far that Patrick could feel the Earl’s breath on his face. “You do nothing. Do you hear me? You carry on as usual. No change. If you still want to elope, you need to think about what resources you need to amass and start doing that. I shall get myself invited to your hunt. We can see what’s what then. You hear me?” Stenwick went as far as to grab his arm.

  Patrick nodded slowly. “I hear you. Business as usual.”

  Stenwick leaned back with a light pat of his knuckles. “Good man.”

  Patrick just sighed.

  * * *

  Packing for the Cheshmill hunt was more of a challenge than Melissa had ever experienced in her life. She wanted hunting clothes and ball gowns, day dresses and walking suits, riding habits and pretty hats; all of which was expected to fit in one portmanteau. She was not to be the focus of the trip; her sister was the one meant to shine and so she could not complain to anyone that her allocation of one trunk was inadequate.

  Luckily for her, Brynn was adept at utilizing space as economically as possible.

  “They shall all be terribly wrinkled by the time we get there, but do not fret, I shall steam them all before hanging them up.”

  Melissa wrapped her arms around her friend’s neck in gratitude. “What would I do without you? Thank you so much.” />
  Brynn laughed against her flesh, which was a little ticklish and made her shiver. “I expect another lady’s maid would manage just as well.”

  “No!” Melissa pulled back, keeping her hands on Brynn’s shoulders, “I should never want anyone but you; unless you wanted to leave?”