Duke of Her Own, A

by Lorraine Heath

  Louisa was grateful for the wide brim of her straw hat that shaded her eyes as well as the parasol. She hoped both darkened her face enough that the numerous blushes she’d felt making their way up her neck and into her cheeks had not been visible to the duke. What would he make of a woman so easily embarrassed?

  She and Jenny were complete opposites, and Louisa felt rather boring sitting in the same boat with her. Again, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was more than her impoverished state that had kept gentlemen callers away.

  Occasionally her gaze shifted to a gentleman in another boat. None had the duke’s virility; none seemed to have his determination to reach the end of the river. She smiled at that thought. Of course he had no intention of rowing until he reached river’s end, but he was putting his all into the effort, as though he sought to escape something.

  Or perhaps he was simply showing off. She doubted any man could keep up with him. He’d mentioned sports, which had surprised her. She’d assumed his life of debauchery would leave little time for sporting pleasures, and yet she couldn’t deny that he had a very healthy bronzed tint to his skin. She wanted to ask after his interests, but she was not the one with whom he should be conversing.

  As a chaperone, she should be invisible, a role for which she’d apparently been preparing all her life. To be present, but unnoticed. To be available if needed, to be disregarded if not.

  Unlike Hawkhurst, who would be noticed even if he dressed in clothing that matched his surroundings. He was not a man to be overlooked. He stood out. Even here on the Thames, with others in similar boats, wearing similar shirts, trousers, and straw hats. While most continued to wear their jackets, Jenny sat on Hawkhurst’s…a bit of cushioning he’d said with a grin…a gentlemanly gesture Louisa would not have expected of him.

  But she didn’t quite trust it. He was seeking to woo the American heiress—no doubt at any cost, even if it meant creating a false perception of him as a man and potential husband. While Mrs. Rose wouldn’t look beyond his title, Louisa was certain that Jenny would.

  She couldn’t help but respect the girl for that bit of wisdom. She had little doubt that Jenny was worthy of a duke, would make an exceptional duchess.

  But she sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t settle for this duke. Although for the life of her, she was no longer certain why she thought it would be a horrible thing to be married to Hawkhurst.

  And that worried her even more, because how could she properly advise Jenny when Louisa was losing her own perspective on what a suitable man should be?

  Chapter 10

  The two outings with Hawkhurst had signaled the start of a whirlwind of activities that seemed to know no end: gentleman callers in the afternoon, theater and concerts and dinners in the evenings. Always Jenny and Kate ushered Louisa into their wardrobe room and insisted that she select something different to wear.

  That morning Louisa stood in the confectioner’s shop, studying all the varied offerings in the display case, trying to decide which she should select. It was the first time in days that she’d worn her own clothing in public, something that had been worn on more than one occasion. She drew comfort from the familiar.

  And dearly appreciated that she had a few hours to herself.

  Last night Louisa had accompanied Jenny to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. The Duke of Pemburton had been Jenny’s escort. Louisa had always thought highly of the duke, had actually encouraged Jenny to welcome his suit. By evening’s end, Louisa had decided that marriage to Pemburton would bore Jenny to tears and leave her permanently bent over as she strived to hear the man’s mumbling conversations. Why could he not speak clearly, succinctly, and a bit more loudly?

  He was only forty for goodness’ sakes.

  It seemed no one had succeeded in catching Jenny’s fancy to such a degree that he was all she spoke of. Much to Louisa’s chagrin, Jenny spoke of Hawkhurst the most—not so much Jenny’s interest in the duke, but her perception that the duke was interested in Louisa. Ludicrous ramblings.

  Upon arriving home last night, Jenny had declared that she intended to sleep in. Kate had begun reading a new novel and didn’t want to be disturbed this morning. Which left Louisa to do entirely as she pleased.

  And what made matters even more exciting was that Mr. Rose had given Louisa her first month’s salary. She was practically a woman of independent means. It was an incredibly heady sensation: to have money that was hers to spend on anything she wished.

  She contemplated paying her brother a visit, giving him half her money, but, damnation, she’d worked hard for it, swallowed her pride, earned the right to clutch the money in her little hands. Or hear it jingling in her purse as it were.

  She’d never before experienced such a sense of accomplishment. It was intoxicating. Had her almost giddy. She wanted to skip across a park as she had when she was a child. She wanted to sing, dance, and purchase new slippers.

  On the other hand, she thought it would be prudent to retain as many of her coins as possible, but the appeal of spending just a bit was overwhelming. Mr. Rose had told her that the carriage was hers to use, and so she’d had the driver take her to a nearby section of shops. She’d told him that she’d rent a hansom to return her to the Rose residence. She’d spent the morning peering in shop windows until the urge to spend became too great. Then she’d ducked into this sweet shop, determined to make at least one small purchase.

  And now she was overwhelmed by the varied selections. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited a sweet shop. With her father, when she was much younger, she supposed. He’d had a weakness for sour cherry drops, while she’d simply adored toffee. When poverty visited, one was required to sacrifice the pleasures of extravagance. Louisa had gone a good long while without the taste of sweets upon her tongue. She hardly knew how to end her hiatus: to go with her favorite or to sample something she’d never before experienced. She leaned nearer to the glass case, studying the various assorted colors. Four for a penny. Perhaps she would have two toffee and then—

  “Attempting to sweeten your temperament?” a low voice asked near her ear.

  Jerking upright, she twisted around and glared at the man who stood there, grinning foolishly as though he’d made some grand joke. He wore a frock coat, a gray waistcoat and gloves, and dark gray tie. She couldn’t deny that regardless of what he wore, he was a man who drew a lady’s eye. “Hawkhurst.”

  “Lady Louisa.” He glanced around. “Where’s Miss Jenny?”

  “Still abed.”

  “So they sent you to fetch some sweets?”

  She angled her chin slightly. “No, actually, I’m here shopping for myself. I couldn’t decide between the toffee or the fruit confections.”

  “I see the dilemma.”

  Did he really? she wondered. He’d never struck her as a man with a sweet tooth.

  “Your Grace!” the clerk behind the counter said enthusiastically as he bustled over. “Here for your weekly purchase I assume?”

  Well, it seemed Louisa had judged Hawkhurst’s fondness for sweets unfairly.

  “Indeed, but please see to Lady Louisa’s needs first.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” The clerk turned his attention to her. “What will it be, my lady?”

  She nibbled on her lower lip and decided on a compromise: something familiar, something new, and something remembered. “Two toffees, a pear drop, and a sour cherry.”

  “Very good. And what will be your pleasure, Your Grace? The usual?”

  “Yes, please, a dozen brandy balls.”

  Louisa rolled her eyes and muttered. “I should have known.”

  “Should have known what precisely?” Hawkhurst asked.

  “That you would ask for something with a bit of wickedness in it.”

  “They’re rather tasty. I’ll let you try one.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “They won’t make you drunk. Even if you eat a hundred. I tried once.”

  She stared a
t him in astonishment. “Surely, you jest. A hundred at one time?”

  “One right after the other.” He leaned near. “I was all of fourteen and made myself quite ill.”

  “Was that when you decided to sample my father’s liquor?” she asked, a brow arched. Although his skin was swarthy, she thought she detected a blush working its way along his strong jaw line.

  “You always did come upon us at the most inopportune moments,” he said, his voice low, as though he was imparting secrets.

  Her stomach quivered, and she didn’t want to think about all the women he may have spoken to, in the dark, using that voice.

  The clerk brought over their two small sacks.

  “Put the lady’s purchase on my account,” Hawkhurst said, much to Louisa’s astonishment. She was fairly certain that his financial situation mirrored her brother’s.

  “That’s very kind of you, but quite unnecessary,” she said. “I’m in possession of my own funds.”

  “Please, I must insist.”

  She thought about arguing, but she didn’t wish to make a public spectacle of herself. Nor did she wish to cause him embarrassment. She sensed his purchasing her sweets was more of an issue of pride, not because he cared enough for her to want to give her a gift. Besides, others were coming into the shop, and she didn’t want rumors to begin circulating. “Thank you, Your Grace, that’s most generous of you.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  He followed her out of the shop and glanced around again. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. I’m a chaperone, so I require no company. It’s quite liberating.”

  “I admit to finding it rather odd that a single woman of marriageable age is gallivanting around the town without benefit of protection.”

  “How you find it does not concern me.” It was amazing how he could so easily prick her temper. In an effort to make amends, she held up her small sack. “Thank you again.”

  “I must confess to having no willpower when it comes to sweets. A park is nearby. Will you join me while I indulge in enjoying at least one brandy ball before I head home?”

  “I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

  “Yet you believe it appropriate to be walking about London unescorted?”

  “I won’t get into mischief unescorted.”

  “Nor will you if I escort you. I shall be the perfect gentlemen.”

  She refused to acknowledge the disappointment that hit her with that declaration. Finding himself alone with Jenny, he would no doubt strive to take advantage and be less than a perfect gentleman, delivering the kiss of passion that she required.

  “Besides,” he continued, “we’re out in public. You’re completely safe. And I wish to ask you some questions about Miss Jenny Rose.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  “The questions of an interested man.”

  She’d known he was interested, of course. She considered denying him the opportunity to seek her counsel, but spending time with him at the opera and on the river had served to give her doubts regarding her original opinion of him. Besides, she knew Jenny had enjoyed his company much more so than she’d enjoyed the company of Pemburton. And Hawkhurst was a duke, which would please Jenny’s mother immeasurably.

  “I suppose I could spare a few moments,” she said.

  “Afterward, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with a ride home. My carriage is nearby.”

  “I can rent a hansom.”

  He arched a brow. “You have the ability to rent a hansom and to pay for your own sweets?”

  She couldn’t prevent a self-satisfied smile from spreading across her face. “I’ve been given my wages for the month. Oh, Hawkhurst, I have the means to provide for myself.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “I do say, and it’s most addictive,” she said. He began walking, and she fell into step beside him. “I can understand why someone would seek employment. The receiving of money for services gives one such a sense of accomplishment. I can hardly wait until next month, when I will receive another five pounds.”

  “Good God, they’re paying you five pounds a month?”

  She couldn’t resist a triumphant nod. “Indeed. And I shall receive a bonus on the day that each girl marries.”

  “Perhaps your brother will have no reason to seek a wife in possession of money,” he said.

  They’d entered the park. The flowers were in riotous bloom. A few couples strolled about, but it wasn’t yet the height of fashion to be seen in the parks; had it been two hours later Louisa doubted that the bench he escorted her to would have been available. He took his place beside her. The bench suddenly seemed incredibly narrow. She peered inside her sack rather than look at him.

  “Do you think I should give a portion of my earnings to Alex?” she asked quietly.

  “Not necessarily. You earned the money. It should be yours to do with as you please.”

  She studied the amber toffee. “I feel selfish hoarding the money when I know Alex is in such dire need of it.”

  He touched her chin, turned her face toward him. There was a kindness in his eyes that she’d have never expected of him, and she couldn’t help but wonder what other surprises he might be hiding.

  “Your brother needs a good deal more than five pounds.”

  “But it is a start—”

  “It is a start for you. The responsibilities for his estates fall to him. He will see to them.”

  Another surprise. She’d not expected him to acknowledge who, indeed, was responsible for the estates.

  “Through marriage?” she asked.

  “We do what we must.” His hand fell away. “Which brings me to Miss Rose. Does she enjoy my company do you think?”

  “Truly, Your Grace, she hasn’t specifically addressed her feelings in regard to you.” Louisa popped the confection into her mouth.

  “What does your woman’s intuition tell you? And don’t think for a moment that enjoying your sweet will end our conversation. I won’t think you rude if you talk around it.”

  So much for that ploy to prevent further conversation with him. She had indeed thought she was delaying the inevitable.

  “I believe she finds you interesting. She certainly laughs when she is with you more than she does with others.”

  “Hardly a resounding endorsement of her affection. Rather she could be laughing because she considers me a buffoon.”

  “You’re hardly a buffoon.”

  “A compliment from you? Beware, I may faint dead away.”

  Her mouth twitched at the teasing glint in his eyes. She remembered Mr. Rose explaining that teasing was but another way to show affection. But there was no affection here. Never had been really.

  “I don’t know what possessed me—”

  He leaned near. “You find me charming.”

  “I do not.”

  “Not at all charming?”

  She held up her little finger and pressed her thumb near its tip. “Perhaps that much.”

  He gave her a triumphant grin. “At least it is a start. Before I’m done, I shall claim that entire pinky.”

  She laughed. “I believe you overestimate your powers of persuasion.”

  “We shall see,” he said quietly, an undercurrent of challenge and something that warned her that flirting with him in the least was a dangerous undertaking.

  He was much more experienced, and she suddenly felt very much out of her element.

  Sucking on her toffee, she watched as he slid a brandy ball into his mouth. He seemed to do it with deliberate care, as though he sought to draw attention to his lips. She wondered if his kisses would taste like brandy, and how would a lady know if he’d been drinking or sampling sweets?

  “If a gentleman were to bring Miss Rose a small token of his affection, what would you suggest, what would please her the most?” he asked, bringing an effective end to their lighthearted banter and reminding her that she wasn’t the object of his quest and would never be
the object of his affection.

  She fought back the unwarranted disappointment. She was simply the means to his end, and she would do well to remember that.

  “If it is to be his token, he should be the one to determine what to give.”

  “But I want to ensure that the lady takes pleasure in it, and that is part of the gift. Making inquiries until I determine what would be the perfect gift.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She laughed at his reasoning, to hide the fact that she was touched by it. It did indeed increase the value of the gift to know that he’d given the purchase of it such thought.

  He arched a brow. “You find my attempts at wooing amusing?”

  “No, I find your attempts at manipulating me amusing.”

  “Am I so easy to read?”

  He held her gaze, a challenge in his dark eyes. Slowly, she shook her head. “No, you’re not at all easy to read.”

  “I don’t think I’d make such an unwanted husband for a woman who desires a title.”

  “Their mother wants the title. They want passion and love.” The last of her toffee melted in her mouth. She swallowed. “I was always rather envious of these American ladies. It’s not something that I admit with any sort of pride. And yet, having spent some time with them, I’m not certain which is worse: to be ignored because you have no dowry or to be sought after because you have so much.”

  “I should think being ignored is much worse.” He shook his sack and held it toward her. “Have a brandy ball.”

  She gave him an impish smile. “Are you certain it won’t make me drunk?”

  “I’m positively certain.”

  She reached into the bag, removed a dark ball, and plopped it into her mouth. It was surprisingly good.

  “Would you like a toffee?” she asked.

  “No, thank you. I would like to know what sort of sweets Miss Rose might like.”

  “You are single-minded in your purpose.”

  “I’m not sure why you find fault in that habit. It is the sign of a man destined to achieve greatness.”

  “By marrying well,” she said.