Duke 0f Chance (Regency Stories Book 2)

by Catherine Mayfair

  The first drops of rain on her cheek broke her from her musings. However, they did not seem to bother Joseph one bit as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

  “Hannah,” he said as he took her hand and helped her stand, “you have shown me a new way to view the world, and I would be greatly honored if you agreed to continue to do so.”

  She had no idea how to respond to such a statement except to give a nod of agreement just as the wind picked up, which she used as an excuse to grab his arm and press herself against him; though her other hand had to hold onto her hat before it blew away despite the ribbon tied beneath her chin. His strong arms came around her in an embrace, and she looked up at him and recognized the fire that burned in his eyes, for she, too, felt that same longing.

  He leaned in, his lips parting, and he paused. “May I…?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and then the Duke kissed her. It was far better than the first kiss they had shared, and Hannah was thankful his hands held her in place lest she fall.

  As luck would have it, as soon as the kiss broke, the clouds burst open and the rain came down in buckets. Tabitha squealed as she came running back to stand under the tree that kept away much of the rain, and Hannah quickly pushed away from Joseph.

  The trio gathered together the remains of the midday meal as well as the blankets and rushed to the carriage. By the time they threw themselves into the seats inside, they were all laughing heartily, but Hannah’s laughter had more to do with the lingering feel of his lips on hers than the dampness of their clothing, for she hoped the feeling never left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joseph returned home following a two-day trip to London. Returning home to Richfield Estates was a welcomed relief after the flurry and haste of the city. London was not on the list of favorite places to see—unless he was there for a party or other social gathering. Even then, the clamor could almost be too much to endure.

  His mother was to arrive the previous day, and though the woman often caused his teeth to grind, he looked forward to seeing her—she was his mother after all. He would be busy with parties and dinners, as well as business meetings—those never went away despite the time of year—the three oftentimes merging together into one. His mother had always been a great keeper of engagements for the family when he was younger, and because he wanted to attend as many gatherings as possible in order to present Hannah to the ton, the woman would be a great asset for the time being. He only hoped he could endure her for that long.

  It was not that he could not have done the management of social engagements himself, but his wealth increased daily while others were near ruins, and that was simply because he focused so much time on business. Granted, he did not always conduct business in the conventional sense. The thought of how he had ‘earned’ some of his wealth made his stomach twist, not a lot but enough to make him feel uncomfortable, and the feeling was as foreign as anything he had endured.

  The carriage came to a stop in front of his house. Well, the past was the past. He could do nothing about his actions from before, but perhaps he could better himself from this moment forward. Maybe he could become this ‘good’ man Hannah believed he was.

  “Your Grace,” Greer, his driver said as he stepped from the vehicle. “Is there anything else you’ll be needin’ from me?”

  “No, thank you,” Joseph replied with a shake of his head.

  The man bowed, closed the door to the carriage behind Joseph, and hopped back up into the seat. The carriage rumbled toward the stables where the man would unharness the horses and do whatever it was he did to store the vehicle until it was to be used again.

  The front door of the house opened just as he reached it, and Overton, his butler, waited for him to enter. Once Overton had placed Joseph’s coat over his arm and had his hat in hand, the man said, “Your Grace, I trust your journey went well?”

  “It did. Has my mother arrived?” He already knew the answer; his mother was a stickler for puntuality.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied. “She is in the parlor with a guest.”

  Joseph stopped mid-step and turned. “A guest?” The idea of his mother sitting alone with a guest of his was more than a little discomforting. It was not that the woman was disrespectful, for she was a Duchess and therefore had received all the training necessary to be whatever mood fit whatever situation. Yet, she could have a sharp tongue that had caused him more trouble than he cared to admit in the best of times.

  He did not wait for Overton to tell him who had come calling; he could find that out on his own. The sooner he arrived at the parlor, the better.

  When he entered the room, he could have sighed audibly. His mother indeed was entertaining someone—Miss Margaret Treesing. When they saw him enter, they stopped their conversation and looked up at him.

  “My son,” his mother said as she pulled herself from the couch where she had been sitting beside Margaret. “You grow more handsome every day.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” Joseph replied as he embraced her. “I take it your journey was without complications?”

  “Oh, yes. Though I think the driver was not careful on some of the roads. My back does ache from being bounced around like a tennis ball.”

  Joseph stifled a sigh. His mother was apt to complain about anything and everything in order to gain the sympathy of those around her. One part of her body or another ailed her at any given moment, and she seemed to enjoy the concern she received from others for it. Rather than give his mother the attention she sought, he turned to Margret and said, “Why are you here?”

  His mother clicked her tongue. “That is no way to address an old friend,” she admonished as she retook her seat. Perhaps he had asked a bit more forcefully than he had planned.

  “No, no, it’s quite all right,” Margaret replied with a smile.

  “I told you before that she and I oftentimes write letters to one another. I told her that I was coming to visit, so we decided to have tea together.” She lifted her teacup as she said this in order to punctuate her words.

  “I do remember that,” he murmured of the letter writing as he went to sit on one of the leather chairs he favored. He oftentimes wondered what the two spoke of in those letters. Women could gossip as well in writing as they did in speech.

  “Margaret, would you please wait for me in the library,” his mother said with a smile. “If you need anything before I have finished speaking with my son, Overton will see you have it.”

  “Of course, Madam,” Margaret set as she rose from the couch. A few breaths later, she left the room, the door closing behind her.

  Joseph stared after the woman with suspicion and then turned back to his mother. Margaret had not even been surprised by the request.

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” his mother said. “And she has wealth and land of her own, a rarity among most women.”

  “Those are true points,” Joseph said, though impatience pecked him like a rooster pecking at the dirt. “She will make a man happy one day.”

  His mother looked at him over the rim of her teacup. He would have missed the smile that played on the corner of her lips had he not been suspicious of her already. “She can make you happy,” she said finally.

  So, that was what this was all about. His mother had chosen many women who could ‘make him happy’ since he became of age. However, her idea of happiness was much different from his, and now even his idea had changed exponentially.

  “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that I have found someone to make me happy.”

  His mother snorted—she would have had an apoplectic fit if he had said she had done so—and then motioned to the wine cabinet. He knew that gesture, for she had used too many times during his growing years. While pouring her a glass of wine, he also poured one for himself. He suspected he would need it.

  She accepted the glass he offered her and took a sip before setting the glass beside the half-empty
teacup. “Your Father and I always wanted the best for you,” she said as she patted her silver hair that was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “I realize that,” Joseph said, stifling that sigh once more. “I have always been appreciative of that fact.”

  “Then why court this woman?” she demanded, the motherly tone she had put on for Margaret’s sake now gone. “Margaret told me all about her. Her family near ruin, no title. Do you mean to disservice the name of your father and his before him by getting mixed up with such a woman?”

  Anger erupted in Joseph so quickly, he had to grip the arms of the chair to keep himself from jumping out of it. “It does not bring dishonor to our name,” he seethed. He had to force himself to unclench his jaw and take a deep breath to calm himself. “I have found a woman for whom I care, and her standing in society has no import on how she makes me feel. Do you not want me to be happy?”

  “Of course I do,” she replied with clear annoyance. “But I always thought Margaret would be the one to do such a thing.” She let out a sigh. “I cannot stop you nor will I try. So, when will I meet this woman?”

  Joseph released the breath he had been holding, glad the argument was over and had not gotten as heated as it could have. “Tomorrow evening. Hannah, that is Miss Newmont, and her parents will be our guests for dinner. I think…no, I know you will find her exceptional.” He downed the rest of the wine in his glass and set the glass on the table. “Now, let me tell Margaret that we are busy this evening….”

  “There is no need,” his mother interrupted. “She will be staying on with me, as a companion whilst I visit.”

  “Mother, I do not believe that is appropriate.”

  “That is how I view this courtship of yours and you do not see me doing anything to keep you from that. Therefore, do not get in the way of what I wish.”

  Joseph shook his head in frustration. “Very well, then. It is good to see you, Mother, but I have business to attend to.” He made his way to the door when her voice called out to him.

  “I only want what’s best for you.”

  He sighed but said nothing as he opened the door and headed out to find Margaret.

  ***

  Margaret was not in the library nor in Joseph’s office. He could not stop the frustration from boiling over. Where had she gone? Then he glanced out the window and the blur of a red dress passing behind one of the hedges outside had him going down the stairs and through the door to the gardens. Hurrying down the path, he took a left and saw Margaret not ten paces ahead of him, standing under an old tree.

  “Margaret,” he said, stopping behind her. “Why are you here? And don’t give me that idiocy that it’s because my mother invited you to be her companion. Do you not see that I’m courting Miss Newmont and I’m happy to be with her?”

  She gave a nod but said nothing, bringing about another bout of anger.

  He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to face him. “You must leave!” he insisted in a near yell that made him cringe. Then his heart skipped a beat. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were streaked with tears.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a formal curtsy, something she reserved only for public occasions.

  “Margaret?” he asked, his heart filled with sorrow. “Why are you crying?”

  She rubbed her hand on her cheek, and Joseph pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Thank you,” she whispered and dabbed at her face. “I did not mean to upset you by being here.”

  “Then why come?” He tried very hard to keep any sting from his tone but it was difficult to do. What was it about women and tears that upset him so?

  “Your mother worries for you,” she said. “I told her that you are happy, but we both know how stubborn she can be.”

  Joseph most certainly knew this as truth, for he had lived with it all his life. Even after he took over the title of Duke after his father died, his mother still treated him as if he were still in swaddling clothes.

  “I was in the library and happened to glance out the window. This tree,” she patted the trunk affectionately, “do you remember the times we played here as children?”

  “That we did,” he said with a chuckle and he touched the rough bark. “Those are things children do.”

  “Indeed,” she replied. Then she turned and looked up at him through her lashes. “I know there is no room for me on your heart, but I do understand.” She sighed. “I also understand that the promise you made cannot be kept now that circumstances have changed.”

  He searched his memories for any clues to what she said, but nothing surfaced. “Promise?” he asked. “What promise?”

  “That we would always remain friends; that no one would come between that.” Another sigh. “For some reason, the mere sight of me angers you these days, and I must admit that it hurts more than anything I have ever experienced before in my life.” She began to cry once again, and the weight on Joseph’s heart burned in his chest.

  “It is not you,” he said. “My mother, she spoke of courting you. She still believes we are meant to be together.”

  “I know,” Margaret said through sniffles. “I cannot tell her differently, though I have tried. Please, do not hate me, for her wishes are her own and do not belong to me.”

  He placed his fingers on her chin and lifted her head so he could see her face. “I do not hate you,” he said in a quiet voice. “I was surprised you were here, and then with what she said…” his voice trailed off. It appeared that Margaret had moved past the idea of them being together, but the tears on her cheeks brought him pain, as well as shame.

  “I am happy you do not hate me,” she said with a weak smile. “I will tell your mother I am ill and must leave at once. Forgive me for causing discord. Would you escort a lady around the gardens so her tears may dry?”

  He smiled and offered her his arm. She slipped her hand through and they began to stroll. “Hannah and her family will arrive tomorrow. If you speak with her, I believe you will soon think of her as a friend, as well.”

  “I already do,” Margaret replied.

  This made Joseph very happy.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miss Margaret Treesing had always loved Joseph Larson. Since she was a young girl, she had fantasized of the wondrous wedding they would have, the words of love they would speak to one another, and the life they would live together as the Duke and Duchess of Charrington. In that dream were a gaggle of children, including a lovely heir, a boy who looked just as Joseph had when he was younger.

  Although she had told Joseph that she understood his affections for Miss Hannah Newmont, in reality, Margaret knew she would never give up hope at winning his heart for herself. Not only was she determined, but his mother was as adamant as she. The letters they had shared with one another spoke of both their mutual desire to see Margaret as the new Duchess of Charrington and not this slip of a girl who came from a no-name family on the verge of bankruptcy. They both agreed adamantly that Joseph simply deserved better.

  Wincing from the tightness of her corset, which the aforementioned Dowager now pulled even tighter, Margaret held onto the bedpost to keep her from being yanked across the room.

  “Abigail,” she gasped, “it cannot go any tighter.”

  “You must be pleasing to my son in every way possible,” the Duchess said as she pulled the stays one more time to assure they were as tight as she could get them. Satisfied it was so, she retrieved a white gown with red and purple flowers embroidered on the bust and tiny pearls sewn in tiny butterfly patterns around the neckline from the wardrobe. “This gown is quite becoming.”

  Getting the gown on was a task in itself, but soon the Duchess was fastening the tiny buttons up in the back. “Tonight is important,” she said as her fingers worked deftly. “The first steps of many.”

  Margaret studied at her reflection in the ornate standing mirror beside the wardrobe and placed her hands on her hips. Moving from side to s
ide, she smiled. The effect of the corset created a bosom at which any man would ogle, but there was only one man she wanted doing so.

  She and the Duchess had set plans in motion as soon as they learned of Joseph’s ridiculous infatuation with the Newmont girl. He had no business being with such a woman, for Margaret would make a much better match for him than even Princess Charlotte. Well, perhaps not the Princess, but she was not of marrying age at the moment anyway, and Joseph would need an heir soon. And as far as Margaret was concerned, she was the only woman to do that.

  Their plan was simple. Margaret would be the friend and confidante Joseph needed while the Duchess schemed through the drop of a word here or the turn of a word there in an attempt to belittle and disparage Miss Newmont. It would appear to everyone involved that Margaret was being scorned, which in turn would cause Joseph to defend her.

  “Do not worry,” Margaret said, “I will make your son happy.”

  The Dowager Duchess looked her over. “My son has become blind over this woman,” she said with disdain. She reached up and took one of Margaret’s long curls in her hand. “But not any longer. By the time I leave, he will be courting you and that woman will be out of his life. The next time I return to Richfield Estates will be for your wedding.”

  “I would like that,” Margaret said with a smile.

  “Then be sure to play your role well tonight,” the Duchess said as she let the curl fall. “You know I am quite capable of playing mine.” She gave a heavy sigh. “If men knew the lengths we women go to in order to protect them.”

  “I will do anything to secure his heart with mine,” Margaret said emphatically. “There is nothing you can ask that I will refuse.”

  “That, my dear, is why you deserve to be the Duchess of Charrington,” the Duchess said with a smile. The sound of a carriage had her walking to the window. “Come. We still have much to prepare. The Gentry have arrived.”