A Duke's Despair (The Unforeseen Lovers Book 3)

by Lily Holland

  A DUKE’S DESPAIR

  A Regency Enemies to Lovers Romance

  Lily Holland

  A Duke’s Despair Copyright © 2019 by Lily Holland. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Lily Holland on Amazon

  FB: Lily Holland

  Free Exclusive Gift

  Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of hot new releases and get “The Hidden Heart” (available only to my subscribers), an exclusive Novella in The Unforeseen Lovers series for FREE!

  Click the HERE or enter the following link into your browser

  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/q3o6w4p1fx

  Chapter 1

  Andrew Mirabeau, Duke of Peicester

  I frown, the sunlight has fallen so suddenly over my office I haven’t had enough time to light a candle. I focus on the ledger facing me and mark numbers in the margin. It looks good, my finances are in great shape and satisfaction fills my heart and warms my belly.

  I wet my lips in my cup of tea but it’s cold. A quick glance at the clock makes me sigh. It’s already late in the night, time flies when one does the sums.

  I push the cup away and refocus on my ledger. Everything is in order, that’s good news. Very recently, I have invested a large amount of money in a mining venture. I suppose living in Cornwall has its advantages. The business has started making incredible profits and I couldn’t be happier. I already have a fortune but I like the idea of bringing my own contribution to what my genteel blood has gifted me with at birth.

  My finger glides on the paper and I stop on a peculiar line, my return on investment. It always makes me happy to achieve outstanding results. I am not vain though, I have been raised knowing where my place is and where it isn’t. My mother insisted it wasn’t a Duke’s place to worry about ledgers and money but to his right-hand man but I have always loved mathematics. There is something about numbers, it calms me, helps me relax. There is an absolute truth in every figure I write down and I love its preciseness.

  I smile as everything seems in order when a very specific number makes me squint my eyes.

  “Interesting.”

  My brow creases as I force a gulp of cold tea down my throat. I try to recall all the conversations I have had with the other investors for this business venture.

  I know Lord Foster has invested as much as I did, but something isn’t right in the number. There is a name missing.

  I lose myself in reflection and I decide to go through my entire dossier. I have archived letters and official papers, surely something in there will help me track down the mysterious name.

  I read letter after letter when my breath leaves me.

  “Oh.”

  Impossible. I review the missive again and again and dread fills my soul.

  To invest in the mining business, my partners and I had to buy some lands. But, as I look at the letter asking for a complementary check, I realize there might be one we overlooked.

  This one piece of land happens to be the one where the ore is the most profitable. Surely it won’t be too much trouble to convince the owner of sharing the rights to his ground. The mine stretches under a small portion of his land, the man will be happy to earn a little something in the business without too much protest.

  Yes, it can work. I exhale a loud breath as I settle back in my chair and taps my finger to the yellow piece of paper.

  Who is the landowner already? My eyes wander looking for a name I am sure to recognize when it faces me at once.

  Lord Devinan. The only man I wished never to do business with.

  Chapter 2

  Miss Lucy Devinan

  I sigh as I try to close the trunk filled with my dresses. The more I try, the more it appears impossible. I groan and mumble to myself when my mother enters the room.

  “But, Lucy darling, are you not ready yet? The coach will be waiting for us!”

  I wipe the sweat on my forehead and try again to buckle my trunk. The leather latch doesn’t seem to be compliant today.

  “Why on Earth are you doing this yourself? Can’t Daryl or Lisa help you with it?”

  I shake my head no.

  “I told them I would be fine doing it myself. I wanted to try on the last dress we bought and… Well, now we’re late.”

  I sigh. Exhorting myself to fit all my dresses in one single trunk should be considered as exercise, I am hot, sweating and very upset. If that isn’t sports…

  My mother rolls her eyes before walking to me and working her way around the trunk. Before I know it, she secures the latches and my dresses are all packed.

  “But… How did you—”

  “Let’s just say I have a way for packing.”

  She winks and I smile. My mother is a funny woman. She never does things like anyone else, she doesn’t think like anyone else, and, well, I suppose it’s only fair, she doesn’t love like anyone else.

  “Are you excited to go back home?” she asks as she requests from a manservant to take my heavy trunk to the coach waiting for us outside.

  I shrug and look out a window.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I miss home but it is so nice here, so lively.”

  “Indeed! London is a great city buzzing with life, but I feel its air isn’t good for our complexion. Haven’t you noticed we look duller since we got here? Your father will barely recognize us.”

  I smirk as I turn to her.

  “I’m sure papa would recognize you no matter your complexion. You could be missing an arm that he wouldn’t realize.”

  My mother laughs and she shakes her head. A veil of sadness settles on my features and she notices at once.

  “Your father is a very busy man, Lucy, but he is kind.”

  “I know.”

  I sigh again and look at the ground.

  “You are still upset he missed your debut in London this season?”

  My eyes jump to hers and she cocks an eyebrow.

  “I… I know his business keeps him busy…”

  “You are not answering my question, darling.”

  “But… Now you are teasing, mama!” I oppose her and she smiles broadly shaking her head.

  “Only in jest, my darling.”

  She draws a kiss to my cheek before nodding toward the door.

  “It is time to get going. Come on, let’s remind your father what it’s like to have women in the house.”

  It makes me laugh and she walks through the door. I look around my room and sigh. These last four months spent here in London were among the best of my life. I made my debut this season and it all went just as I would have dreamed.

  Things being as they are, I already have many suitors. And, if I were to admit it, I already have a few favorites.

  Yes, it all went very fine. Mama is an incredible support when it comes to social events and she introduced me to the fanciest people in Town. And the truth is, I loved living in London. The parties, the dinners, the strolls and the meetings, it was so exciting, almost rejuvenating.

  I don’t have many occasions to enjoy grand parties living in Cornwall. Of course, we have our own way of doing things. We have our dinners and social events just as any place i
n the countryside, but it is nothing compared to what is happening in London. I even met the Prince Regent this season, I couldn’t have been expecting that.

  I would have liked not having to leave again, but every good thing must come to an end. I close the door behind me and I head outside. My mother is already waiting for me in the carriage and I settle next to her.

  The road is bumpy but, soon enough, the landscape changes and wide fields stretch around us. This reminds me of home and my heart sinks. London isn’t all pretty, there are some places that must be avoided and a foul smell often hangs in the air, but to me it is the synonym of bright nights and happy memories. Yet, I must go home.

  It takes us days to reach Cornwall but, when we do, a peculiar feeling of peace and quiet fills my soul. It’s like the sorrow of leaving a buzzing city behind has vanished at the sight of this windy, greyish land. I suppose it is the feeling of being home. I never expect to miss Cornwall, and I never do, but coming back always makes me happier. I melt in my seat as the carriage starts up an alley leading to a grand pavilion I call home.

  “I hope your father didn’t spend too many of his nights gambling. I know him, when I’m away, he likes to think he can indulge a little bit too much.”

  I smile before shaking my head in response.

  “Papa knows he’ll have to answer to you if he does.”

  A loud laugh leaves my mother’s throat and she pats my arm.

  “Your father is a man,” she says with a knowledgeable smile. “Give him some space and he will wish to become a whale.”

  We are both giggling when the carriage stops and a manservant opens the door to escort us down.

  “Ah,” declares mama with a sigh of content, “it is good to be back.”

  I tilt my head in a nod and look around. There is another carriage parked near the stables and Thomas, our stable boy, is tending to the horses. My eyes go over the facade of the huge house my father inherited from his own father and I can’t help a smile to lift the corners of my lips. This place is beautiful, having been away makes it look even brighter than I know it to be.

  We make our way in and greet our servants, all openly happy to see us back.

  “Where is Lord Devinan hiding?” wonders my mother.

  “His Lordship is in his office, my Lady,” answers Mrs. Portman, our most faithful maid.

  “I see,” replies mama and I notice her brow setting in a straight line. “I hope he has not been working too hard.”

  I detail my mother as Mrs. Portman explains Lord Devinan has often been secluded to his office and received only a few friendly social calls.

  My mother isn’t old, but when she is worried, the fold on her forehead makes her look at least ten years older. Fortunately enough, every single time she glimpses at my father, all worries leave her face and she shifts back to her natural young self.

  We settle in the drawing room for tea and Mrs. Portman is happy to retell us all the things that went on while we were away.

  “… and Lord and Lady Feaston are expecting a child for the end of summer.”

  “How adorable,” comments my mother. “I have always hoped they would find love in their union.”

  I frown and stare at my mother.

  “Do you mean they didn’t marry out of love?”

  My mother smiles fondly and shakes her head.

  “I guess the rumor said that much but to be honest, I would bet it had to do with the former Miss Heathfield.”

  “Selina?”

  My mother agrees with a slight nod.

  “I think I recall Lord Feaston proposing to her before she married Lord Knightley. He married Miss Aston only a few months later, rumor has it she accepted to secure her position.”

  “I see.”

  My answer is only a whisper. Marrying out of convenience is something I have a hard time comprehending. I suppose my parents are to blame, seeing them as in love as if it were the first day, it has set a terrible example for me to find a suitable husband: I can’t envision marrying for anything else but love.

  “I only hope they are in love now,” adds mama before taking a sip of her tea.

  My brows draw downward in a frown.

  “But, if they married without love, how could they be in love now?”

  My mother shares a witty smile with Mrs. Portman handing me my cup of tea.

  “Love can be borne in the most unsuspected situation, Lucy. It’s quite possible there was no warm feeling between them at the beginning but that the lack was filled with love once settled in married life. It happens to many couples of our society.”

  I nod and lose myself in reflection. I am not stupid, I might be young and barely eighteen years old, but I know many of my fellow ladies enter married life to protect themselves from poverty and lack. I simply hadn’t given it much thought until now.

  “Anyway,” resumes my mother calling back my attention to her, “the last time I have seen the Feastons, they seemed happy and very much in love. I am sure this baby will only bring them closer.”

  I nod again and drink my tea in silence.

  “Oh Mrs. Portman wait!”

  The maid turns at my words and waits by the door.

  “I have brought something for you back from London.”

  The woman blinks and starts opening her mouth to oppose the gift but I frown.

  “It is in my luggage. Don’t move, I’ll get it for you!”

  “Oh Miss, please don’t! It is a kind attention but you shouldn’t have…”

  “Shoo,” I say silencing her in a flick of my hand. “You cannot refuse a gift, Mrs. Portman. It would be very rude of you.”

  I turn to my mother, smiling dearly above her cup of tea.

  “Indeed,” she says, answering my call for support. “It would be very rude, Mrs. Portman.”

  I smile and my mother grins back. Poor Mrs. Portman stands unable to know what she should do and I get up at once.

  “Please stay here, I’ll get your gift.”

  I pass the door and head for the hall. Before I can reach the staircase, someone exits my father’s office. I am about to jump into his arms thinking he finally found a way to stop working to greet us back home but I come to a halt.

  All color leaves my face and I lose my smile as the man in front of me freezes and stares at me.

  “Your Grace.”

  I curtsy imperceptibly as Andrew Mirabeau, the Duke Peicester stiffly bows to me.

  “Miss Devinan.”

  We glare at each other for a long, silent minute and he clears his throat.

  “I reckon you are back from London,” he says, his flat tone leaving me unable to guess his thoughts.

  “Indeed, you are very discerning.”

  His eyes narrow as he gets the acid notes of my voice. I inhale a deep breath before offering him the best smile I can conjure up in front of him.

  “I hope you won’t be keeping my father busy for too long tonight, my mother is very eager to see him.”

  I frown. Is that some faint blushing I see filling his features?

  “You don’t have to worry, I am leaving.”

  “Is that so? I suppose it is good news. For my mother’s sake, obviously.”

  He studies my face and I notice his body is as stiff as mine. He nods slowly and bows his head in greeting.

  “Obviously. Good evening, Miss Devinan.”

  “Good evening, Your Grace.”

  I offer him a faint curtsy and he heads for the door. I watch him as he gets his coat and hat back and departs my house with this dignified look he always displays.

  I clench my fists as I fight a shiver from overcoming my entire body and I turn to the staircase. My mood has just sunk, I hate this man like I have never hated anyone else in my life.

  I rummage through my trunk to find the square of fabric I have bought for Mrs. Portman. What is his Christian name already? I think I have forgotten. No, it’s Andrew, I believe I remember it to be Andrew Mirabeau. Yes, it rings pretty well. And
rew Mirabeau, Duke of Peicester, owner of so many lands and businesses that even my family’s secular fortune pales in comparison. And yet, it seems there are things money can’t buy. A heart and some compassion must be among those.

  Chapter 3

  Andrew Mirabeau, Duke of Peicester

  I slam the door as I get back home. Who does he think he is? I pass a hand on my face and a sigh makes my tensed muscles relax.

  Of all the people I would have liked to do business with, Lord Devinan is the last I would have wished upon. He isn’t a bad person, I know, but he is very haughty. It is a curious thing for me to observe, after all, I am the son of a Duke and a foreign Countess, gentility runs in my blood. I suppose I should be the lofty one but life decided differently.

  My meeting with the Lord owning the land I need to exploit didn’t go as expected. Devinan thinks his ground is invaluable, he considers that, it being the inheritance of generations upon generations of his family name, it is improper to exploit it through mining.

  I groan taking my coat off and hanging my hat. When I sit down for supper that night, my mind is as dark as the sky outside. I can’t believe the words of the older man and the simple fact of thinking about them is making me angrier than I already am.

  He called me an unreasonable opportunist, accused me of using my position and wealth to unsettle the economy of the area and of losing myself in useless ventures to avoid applying for Parliament.

  “You are young and have a love for money,” had said the old man, “you want more of what you already have enough of and I can understand it. But, Your Grace, don’t expect me to allow you to dig in my ground to satisfy your eagerness.”

  Then he had smiled with sarcasm before resuming in a firm voice:

  “You shouldn’t lose yourself in such meaningless ventures. Do something profitable for the country, pick a war and buy yourself a commission or find a seat in Parliament. I am sure with your blood and willing heart, you will make a great change.”