Duke of Her Own, A

by Lorraine Heath

  “I noticed you dancing with him, Lady Louisa,” Jenny said. “What is your opinion of him?”

  “I thought he danced rather nicely,” she said.

  Jenny laughed, a lyrical sound that Louisa assumed any gentleman would find attractive.

  “Come now. I wasn’t referring to his dancing, but rather him as a man. Or more importantly, as a husband. He is a duke, after all. That would please my mother immensely.”

  “And we do want to please Mother, don’t we?” Kate asked sullenly.

  “I want to please myself,” Jenny said. “If I please Mother as well, so much the better. Now, Lady Louisa, tell me what you know of the duke.”

  What did she know of the duke?

  “His family is quite well placed. His father died when Hawkhurst was very young. Twelve as I recall someone mentioning.”

  “How did his father die?”

  “I’m not quite sure. Disease, I believe.” A disease one did not speak of, based on whisperings she’d heard.

  “How dreadful,” Jenny said. “To have such an immense burden placed on young shoulders. I daresay they are broad enough to carry any burden now, though. I thought him a fine physical specimen.”

  “Capable of providing passion?” Kate asked.

  “Quite,” Jenny replied. “What of you, dear sister? Did you discover anyone who could provide you with love?”

  “Not at tonight’s ball.”

  Louisa thought that an odd comment. “Have you met someone previously?”

  Kate sighed. “Tell me true, Lady Louisa. Do you think any gentleman looks at us and sees anything beyond our father’s wealth?”

  Louisa could see the silhouettes of the two girls shifting as the dim light from the streetlamps weaved in and out of the carriage while it traversed along the London streets. Did she dare lie? Men looked at her and saw no money. They looked at these ladies and saw an abundance of wealth. Was either situation any more desirable?

  “Money may be what first catches their attention, but it is your beauty and character that will hold them captive.”

  Kate released a bitter laugh. “You don’t understand. There are times when I wish we lived in poverty. How will I ever know for certain it is I a man loves and not the money that accompanies me to the altar?”

  “Which is the reason that I seek passion rather than love,” Jenny said. “It matters not why he marries me. It matters only that he can deliver what I need.”

  “I need love,” Kate said solemnly.

  Louisa didn’t know what possessed her to lean across the space separating her from the two ladies and wrap one of her hands around each of theirs. “I swear to you that I shall do all in my power to ensure the man you marry will want you more than he wants the money.”

  “Pray tell, how do you think you’ll accomplish that?” Jenny asked.

  Louisa leaned back. “I shall seek to acquaint you with men who are not desperate.”

  “Is your brother desperate?” Jenny asked.

  “Very.”

  “And Hawkhurst?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Falconridge?” Kate asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I saw the three of them congregating from time to time. Are they friends?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes, indeed. They have been friends for a good many years.”

  “Then you must know them quite well. I’m surprised they do not come highly recommended by you.”

  Louisa felt her stomach tighten. “Quite honestly, several years separate us, and they have hardly ever given me the time of day.”

  “You can’t imagine how horrible it is not to be wanted for yourself,” Kate said, turning the subject back to the ladies rather than the gentlemen.

  “We are not that different. I’m poor”—how Louisa despised admitting that aloud—“and yet, I have no gentleman caller. I have wished for a bit of money so that I would garner someone’s attention.”

  “Wouldn’t it be fun to trade places?” Jenny asked. “Even if for only one evening. For you to live in our world, and for us to have a glimpse into yours.”

  “I suspect we’d each find life not to our liking,” Louisa said.

  “Perhaps. But surely, gentlemen danced with you at balls past.”

  “Of course, but they never wanted more than a dance.”

  “Not even Hawkhurst?” Jenny asked.

  Louisa felt her brow wrinkle. “Quite honestly, we’d never danced before.”

  “Truly? The way he looked at you…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he just seemed…fascinated.”

  “Fascinated in learning about you.”

  “Perhaps,” Jenny murmured, with no conviction in her voice. She gazed out the window, as though no longer interested in discussing what Louisa knew of the duke.

  Which was just as well. Louisa did not want to get into his rather unfortunate habits, which could very well result in his dying as his father had—of a disease that no one spoke of. She tried to recall what she knew of Hawkhurst’s mother and could remember very little about the woman. She was a bit of a recluse, no doubt living in shame because she had only managed to provide one heir—no spare—to the dukedom.

  He could still smell her perfume. A faint fragrance that reminded him of lilies at dawn. One of his mother’s favorite flowers.

  He could still feel her within his arms. Slender. Delicate. Her head barely even with his shoulder.

  He could still see the way she looked at him. As though he were capable only of misdeeds, not to be trusted. And certainly not to be recommended to her charges.

  Standing with his arm pressed to the mantel, staring into the fire, he downed the remainder of his brandy, hoping it would wash away the memories. Lady Louisa was not the one who should still be haunting his thoughts. It was Jenny Rose who should be traveling through his mind, and yet the reality was that he could barely remember what she looked like.

  He heard the door click open, fought back a grimace—because he sought solitude, not company—and peered over his shoulder. Following the ball, he’d returned to his estate, a two-hour ride from the city, rather than his London residence because he’d needed the reminder of his obligations. They were as easy to forget as Jenny Rose’s features when he was away from them.

  As weary as he was, he still managed a smile. “Hello, Moppet. It’s a bit late for you to be up and about, isn’t it?”

  Dressed in her nightclothes, holding her wrapper close at her throat, his sister smiled shyly as she walked toward him. Her hair, as black as midnight, was braided and draped over her shoulder. She’d always seemed so frail, so fragile. From the moment she’d been born, he’d felt a fierce need to protect her.

  “I could say the same of you,” she said softly. “I heard you arrive. I didn’t know you were going to return home so soon. Won’t Mother be surprised?”

  “I expect she will be.”

  She snuggled into the corner of the couch, brought her bare feet up to the cushion, and wound her arms around her drawn-up legs. “Did you attend the first ball of the Season, then?”

  “Indeed, I did.”

  “Was it fun and exciting?”

  He gave her an exaggerated scowl that caused her to laugh lightly. She had the most innocent of laughs. He despised that a time would come when the world and its intolerance would strip her of it.

  “It is only fun and exciting for the ladies,” he explained drolly. “For the gentlemen, it is a great deal of work.”

  “Oh, bosh, I don’t believe that for one second. I’d wager you had a jolly good time. Did you dance every dance?”

  “Nearly every dance,” he said, to appease her, resenting the ease with which the lie rolled off his tongue.

  He walked to the table, where an assortment of crystal decanters awaited him. He refilled his glass before taking a chair, angled in such a way that he could view the fire and Caroline with little more than the slight turning of his
head. She had been his mother’s secret for seventeen years now, a secret bustled off to various estates whenever company came to call, a secret that would soon be revealed to London. She was of age, and Hawk had every intention of placing himself in a position to protect her and ensure that she married well.

  His own marriage to Jenny Rose—he had decided a woman who required passion was a much better suit than one who required love—and the funds the arrangement should provide and make available to him would give him an advantage that if not for Caroline he would care little about obtaining. Not entirely true. After her, he would have his heir to consider. He wanted his son’s worries to be fewer, his responsibilities less burdensome. If Hawk had other children, he wanted to provide adequately for them. Yes, the time had come to marry and marry money—the more the better.

  “Who was the most beautiful lady there?” Caroline asked.

  An image of Lady Louisa darted before him. Beautiful, no. Lovely perhaps. She did not stand out in a crowd, but she did manage to stand up to him, and he found that more intriguing than any physical characteristics she might possess.

  “I suppose it would have to be Jenny Rose,” he said, before sipping his brandy and gazing into the fire, praying both would burn away his lingering memories of Louisa.

  “Describe her to me,” Caroline said.

  He stared at the writhing flames, conjuring up images of bared bodies tangled beneath red satin sheets, flesh glistening with dew—

  He downed the brandy. Cleared his throat. “Honestly, Caroline, I don’t remember her features clearly enough to give a description justice.”

  “Then how could she be beautiful, if you cannot remember her?”

  He shifted his attention to his sister. So naïve, so unaware of the trials that awaited her.

  “I suppose it is merely that the details escape me, and without details there is little to distinguish her from every other lady in the room.”

  “Oh.”

  She seemed genuinely disappointed, studying the sash of her wrapper, which she’d wound around her index finger. “Do you think any gentleman will ever take notice of me?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  His marriage to Jenny Rose would ensure it.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I know I come with a great deal of baggage, Hawk.”

  “We all do, Moppet. We all do.”

  Chapter 6

  “Men set little store by what is carelessly guarded,” the dragon announced at breakfast.

  Louisa felt the weight of the woman’s gaze on her long before she looked up from her porridge. Mrs. Rose had one brow so highly arched it might have been farcical if not for the heat in the green eye beneath the brow.

  “I do hope it is not your plan to make a habit of leaving my girls untended while you see to your own amusements,” Mrs. Rose said tersely.

  “Mama, it was only one dance,” Jenny said. “Quite honestly, I believe the duke was taking advantage of Lady Louisa. He timed their arrival from the dance floor such that she had no choice except to make introductions. Rather clever on his part, I thought, since the lady determines which introductions are appropriate and approaches the man.”

  Louisa felt her stomach knot at Jenny’s words. Last night, for one brief moment, she had dared believe that perhaps it was her he had wanted to dance with. No, not believed. Pretended. Pretended she was the belle of the ball, the one around whom the gentlemen fluttered, like bees to pollen. She did not know who truly deserved more pity: the one overlooked or the one who gained attention because of the coins jingling in her father’s pockets.

  Mrs. Rose’s lips were pressed so tightly together as to be invisible. Louisa did not need anyone taking up for her, but then she wasn’t accustomed to being chastised. She had been her father’s angel, her mother’s darling, her brother’s precious sister.

  “I assure you, Mrs. Rose, that Jenny has the right of it. The dance was merely a ruse on the duke’s part to garner information regarding your daughters and the likelihood that they might favor him,” Louisa said.

  “There, you see, Mama? No harm done,” Jenny said.

  “No harm done? If he was a duke, why did he have to engage in a ruse to be introduced? You should have been led to his side as soon as he entered the room.” Mrs. Rose gave Louisa a pointed glare. “Why were my daughters not introduced immediately? Is that not what I’m paying you for?”

  “Not a ruse to gain an introduction, rather a ruse to gather information, discreetly. We are a very discreet people,” she said, surprised by how quickly she was learning to dance around uncomfortable questions.

  “Are you saying that your plan all along was to introduce my daughters to him?”

  “Yes, madam.” How disappointing that the lie came with such ease.

  Mrs. Rose harrumphed. “I suppose you spoke favorably on my daughters’ behalf while you were dancing?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is this particular duke a relation to the queen?”

  “No, ma’am,” Louisa said.

  Mrs. Rose pinched her mouth. “A pity. Still, he is at the top of the hierarchy. I shall simply have to satisfy myself with that.” She held up a finger. “I’m well aware of the order of the ranks, so do not try to deceive me in that regard.”

  “Mama, I fear you are being too presumptuous,” Jenny said. “We only danced. I cannot say for certain whether or not I favor him.”

  “Whether or not you favor him is not the issue. The issue is whether or not he favors you. What was your impression, Lady Louisa? Did he favor my girls?”

  “I fear he danced only with Miss Jenny.”

  “Why not Kate?”

  “Because I was occupying the attention of a marquess,” Kate said.

  “A marquess? That title is second only to a duke, is it not?”

  “Yes, madam,” Louisa said, wondering why she was asking when she’d earlier declared that she was familiar with the ranking of peers.

  “Not bad, but still, I’d rather both my daughters be duchesses.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes and huffed out a puff of air.

  “I saw that look, young lady. There shall come a day when you will thank me for all I’ve done to get you where you need to be.” Mrs. Rose turned her hard look on Louisa. “What did the duke say about Jenny after their dance?”

  “I did not speak with him afterward,” Louisa said.

  “Why ever not? How can you determine how the girls should adjust their behavior in order to impress him favorably if you don’t know what his impression was?”

  Louisa felt her stomach tighten. She wasn’t accustomed to having her every action questioned. “I don’t believe your daughters should alter their behavior simply to catch a duke.”

  “We seem to be at odds regarding our opinions. While I believe my daughters will be the toast of London, I’m not so pompous as not to realize there is always room for improvement. I expect you to advise them regarding how they may make themselves more attractive to these English lords.”

  “I assure you, madam, they cannot be any more attractive than they already are.”

  Mrs. Rose jerked her head back slightly. “Are you contradicting me?”

  “I believe she’s saying that they are perfect as they are,” Mr. Rose said laconically from his end of the table. He lowered the newspaper he was reading. “They take after their mother in that regard, my dear.”

  Mrs. Rose blinked, then smiled at her husband. “I suppose you’re right.” She looked at Louisa, her smile fading to reveal once again the woman with a definite goal. “I suppose, gentlemen will be calling this afternoon?”

  “Undoubtedly,” Louisa said.

  “I should like to meet the duke or any of his equals. Any rank below would simply be a waste of a pleasant afternoon. Kate, do not encourage a marquess when you can have a duke.”

  Now it was Kate who rolled her eyes and tightened her mouth.

  Mrs. Rose shoved back her chair and stood. “I shall be in my chambers.
Send someone to fetch me if a gentleman worthy of my time should come to call. And Lady Louisa, should the duke call, you are to ask him his opinion of my daughters. And if he does not call, you are to call on him and make inquiries as to his opinion.”

  “Oh, no, madam, I cannot do that.”

  “Do you wish to remain in my employ?”

  Louisa swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then you will do as I wish or risk my displeasure. And if I am not pleased—”

  “No one is pleased,” Jenny, Kate, and Mr. Rose said in unison.

  Then they all laughed and the tension in the room seemed to ease as even Mrs. Rose’s mouth relaxed into what could almost be described as a smile.

  “I will not be ridiculed, Mr. Rose,” Mrs. Rose said.

  “My dear, teasing is but one way to show affection.”

  She turned her attention back to her daughters. “I will see you both wed before this Season is over. Do you understand me?”

  “I will see to your wishes, my dear,” Mr. Rose said. “There is no reason to worry yourself over it.”

  “I’m going to rest for a bit. I shall be ever so grateful when you girls are finally settled into marriage, and your father and I can begin to enjoy the years left to us.”

  With that parting sentiment, she swept from the room. Louisa breathed a sigh of relief. At least now, she was faced with the possibility that her digestion wouldn’t be completely ruined.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jenny said, when her mother was no longer visible. “I had no idea she would take the news that the duke had danced with you so poorly.”

  “I can’t believe you told her,” Kate said. “Where Mama is concerned, you know as well as I the best plan of action is to say nothing at all.”

  “Your mother was quite right,” Louisa said, not certain why she felt a need to defend the unpleasant woman. “It was poor judgment on my part to accept his invitation for a dance.”

  “Nonsense. If Kate and I are both otherwise occupied, I see no harm in you having a bit of fun. Don’t you agree, Kate?”

  “Of course. As a matter of fact, why don’t the two of you dance, and I’ll simply watch?”

  “But what of your marquess?” Jenny asked. “I found him exceedingly attractive.”