Duke of Her Own, A

by Lorraine Heath

  “As I said, you were only a child. Placing such a burden on you was unfair.”

  “He was my father; I should not have abandoned him in his final moments.”

  She couldn’t help but wonder how his guilt over his perceived abandonment of his father had contributed to his insistence that they marry. Had he determined he’d never again abandon another: not his mother, his sister, or a woman he’d compromised?

  “My mother asked me to leave,” she said quietly. “She didn’t want me to witness her passing. I was twenty-three, mature enough to stay, and yet I honored her request. Perhaps if you’d gone to your father’s side, he’d have asked the same of you.”

  “I’ll never know because I didn’t have the courage to answer his call.” He sighed. “Ravensley should have been with you all those long nights. I apologize for my part in keeping him from you.”

  He seemed determined to change the subject, and she decided any further discourse would only add to his guilt. Sometimes it was easier for others to forgive our failings than for us to forgive ourselves.

  “I quite resented you and your influence over him,” she confessed.

  He turned slightly, pressing his shoulder to the paned glass. “As well you should have.”

  “Do you believe in love?” she found herself asking, wondering if he’d ever expected more from his marriage than passion.

  “No.”

  “Yet the characters in your story discover love. How can you write so convincingly about something in which you do not believe?”

  “I also write about faeries. Surely you don’t think for a single moment I believe tiny creatures flitter across the grass at night.”

  “I thought perhaps that was what you were doing now. Looking for them.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked up. “No, I was attempting to distance myself from a conversation that was serving to highlight my failure as a son and a brother.”

  “I don’t see how you can see yourself as a failure as a brother. You’ve yet to leave Caroline’s side, and I suspect come morning, when your mother returns, still you will not leave.”

  “I have failed adequately to protect Caroline. She ran away because she feared we were ashamed of her. When it is not her I am ashamed of, but Society, a society that will torment her for the unfortunate circumstances of her birth.”

  “So you have strived to protect her from them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Going so far as to pursue a wealthy American heiress.”

  “Which I subsequently botched.”

  “I have found too much protection is not necessarily a good thing. My father protected my mother—”

  “From what? She was not illegitimate. Her circumstances are hardly the same.”

  She sighed with frustration. “No, her circumstances weren’t the same, but his treatment of her very much mirrored yours.”

  He visibly straightened as though she’d delivered a blow. “I do all within my power and reason to shield Caroline—”

  “Exactly. As my father did with my mother. He never told her our financial situation was burdened by her excessive spending—”

  “Caroline is not a burden.”

  “Damnation, Hawk, will you stop interrupting and allow me the courtesy of finishing my explanation?”

  She didn’t think it possible, but he straightened even further, his eyes rounding slightly, no doubt at her use of profanity. Why was it with men that in order to have their undivided attention, a woman needed to either remove her clothing or resort to using vulgar language? While disrobing guaranteed their attention, it did not ensure their minds stayed focused on the conversation. Without a doubt their minds would wander in other directions.

  After a moment, he tilted his head slightly. “Continue.”

  “Thank you. As I was saying, he sought to protect her from the reality of our financial situation. She was quite unaware our coffers were empty or that her spending put a weight on his shoulders that caused him grief. As much as I regret saying it, I’ve often wondered if his worrying over our situation, exacerbated by her spending led to his heart giving out as it did.”

  “I assure you my heart is not in danger of giving out.”

  She glared at him. He pressed his finger to his mouth as though to silence himself, but she thought she detected some of the worry lifted from his eyes.

  “In protecting my mother, my father failed to prepare her for the time when he would not be there to oversee her life. She was lost, so terribly lost. He had been her crutch, and, without him, she tumbled.”

  His mouth twitched, and she couldn’t help but say, “Perhaps I should cease with metaphors. My point in all this is: I believe she succumbed to illness because it was easier than facing the world without him.

  “You have expended a great deal of effort in protecting Caroline from the ridicule of society, and I find that remarkably admirable.” His eyes widened slightly as though he were as astonished by her words as she was. She was surprised he didn’t choose this moment to interrupt and comment on her statement. Perhaps she’d left him speechless as well. “I don’t find fault with your actions, but I am left to wonder if perhaps you have misjudged how she’ll be treated. What is the worst that can happen if you introduce her into Society?”

  “She will be ignored, her heart bruised, her hopes shattered.”

  “All of which, I can attest, are painful experiences, but they are survivable. I fear you do her a disservice by not giving her the chance, at least, to survive.”

  Reaching out, he touched her cheek with the tenderness she was coming to expect of him, the tenderness she’d feared his outburst in his bedchamber would be denied to her as the consequences of their actions became more difficult for him to live with. “Not everyone is as strong as you, Louisa. Not everyone has your fortitude or determination. It would break my heart, my mother’s heart to see Caroline wounded.”

  And he claimed not to love?

  “She is the sister of a duke. That is a currency, Your Grace, I fear you have not taken into account.”

  “You give my title too much credit.”

  “You give yourself too little.”

  Again, he looked taken aback by the boldness of her words.

  “And if you are wrong?”

  “Then at least we will know where Society will place her.”

  “She is not ready for London.”

  “I agree. To take her there would give her an unfortunate start, for she would not be comfortable in the strange surroundings. But here…here she could experience her first ball within the bosom of all with which she is comfortable. We are a mere two hours from London. We could have a successful ball right here. I daresay our own scandalous beginnings will guarantee we have a large attendance as the curious seek to discover how we fare.”

  “You are asking me to risk bringing sorrow to the two most important women in my life.”

  She felt the sting to her heart because she was not one of them, and she realized she would probably never be. She’d known from the beginning he didn’t love her; it was pointless to mourn that fact now.

  “It is a risk you must take at some point if you ever hope to secure a suitable husband for Caroline.”

  “Please, Hawk.”

  Louisa and Hawk jerked their heads around at the softly delivered plea. Caroline was sitting up in bed, clutching the covers to her chest.

  “How long have you been eavesdropping, Moppet?” he asked.

  “Long enough. If you fear I will bring you shame—”

  “You could never bring me shame,” he stated emphatically.

  “Or embarrass you—”

  “You could never embarrass me more than I have already embarrassed myself.”

  Caroline looked past him to Louisa and gave her an impish smile. “I’ve never noticed before he has the nasty habit of not letting ladies finish their sentences.”

  “Because he doesn’t like the direction in which they are going, and so he seeks to
head them off.”

  Caroline shifted her attention back to Hawk. “If I have but one dance, and it is with you, my dear brother, I shall be happy.”

  “You do not know how cruel some people can be.”

  “To the sister of the Duke of Hawkhurst? I daresay they would be fools to slight me and face your wrath in our home. I suspect they’d not fancy facing Louisa’s wrath either. Please, can we have a ball?”

  “We could have a Cinderella ball,” Louisa said.

  “Does that mean I’d turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” Caroline asked.

  “No, it is a less formal affair, beginning at eight, rather than ten, and ending at midnight, rather than three.”

  “It sounds perfect. Please, Hawk?”

  Louisa watched as he closed his eyes, and she could see the burden her suggestion had placed on him.

  “It will be a much smaller gathering, and I will be most selective in whom I invite,” Louisa said solemnly.

  He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Now that the idea has been put forth, it seems I have no choice for my options are to make Caroline sad now and perhaps hinder her recovery or risk her unhappiness later. So have your ball, and we shall pray I have in fact misjudged the situation.”

  She’d never known a man who wished to be proven wrong, but she could see in his eyes that if he were proven right, he’d never forgive her for leading his sister into societal hell.

  Chapter 19

  “You can’t be serious,” Hawk’s mother said. “Whatever are you thinking even to consider hosting a ball here?”

  She paced in front of the window, clutching the flower she’d been on the verge of tucking safely into the vase before he’d made his announcement.

  “That I promised Caroline a ball, and it is time I made good on that promise.”

  “How do you intend to introduce her?”

  “As I introduced her to Louisa: as my beloved sister, Miss Caroline Selwyn.”

  His mother stopped pacing, tears in her eyes.

  “You need not attend if you’re not feeling quite up to it,” he said. God knew he didn’t want to attend.

  “Society will judge me.”

  “What does their judgment matter?”

  “Fine words from a gentleman who married a lady to protect her from society’s censure.”

  “My reasons for marrying Louisa are mine and mine alone, and have no bearing on my attempt to introduce Caroline into Society except that she has served to open my eyes to the unfairness of the life I’ve given my sister. Is this truly what you wish for her? To be always hidden away, to be fearful of others’ opinions, her only joy to be found in plucking flowers?”

  “It is not my only joy. My children are my joy, except for this very moment when you cause me such heartache.”

  He took a step toward her. “It has been more than eighteen years since you’ve been to London. Our society is evolving. There are those among us who have no titles. Where once they would have been shunned, now they are welcomed. There was a day when a lady would never venture out alone, and yet Louisa has strolled the streets and parks without the benefit of a chaperone. She is as courageous a woman as I’ve ever known. She does not sit in the shadows and wait for life. Caroline can learn much from her: that sometimes we must take a chance, we must step forward bravely if we are to step forward at all.”

  “I’m afraid, Hawk, afraid for all of us, for the pain that might be caused.”

  “I believe I would rather risk a life of occasional pain than live one of quiet complacency.”

  She brought the blossom to her nose, inhaling the fragrance as though to gain strength from it. “It has been a good many years since I have hosted a ball.”

  “Louisa will see to the particulars. It will, after all, be hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hawkhurst, and she is my duchess.”

  “I suspect she is a bit more than that.”

  It terrified him to think his mother might have hit upon the truth: where Louisa was concerned, he often felt as lost as Caroline. He couldn’t deny that everything would be much simpler, much easier, and guaranteed of success if Jenny were his wife. Yet, neither could he deny that he couldn’t imagine his life without Louisa in it.

  His trepidation increased with each passing hour that evening as he sat in the library and watched Caroline’s enthusiasm grow. She sat on the couch beside Louisa, listening intently as Louisa outlined everything that needed to be arranged.

  He glanced over at his mother and saw her worries intensifying. He wanted to have faith that all would be well, and he’d spoken with such bravado that afternoon, but as the reality began to take shape—

  “I’m not convinced we shouldn’t delay this endeavor,” Hawk announced, and he saw the relief wash over his mother’s face.

  “For what exactly?” Louisa asked.

  “For our situation to improve.”

  “My situation is never going to change, Hawk. It is as it is,” Caroline said, uncharacteristically making a stand, a demand. Was that Louisa’s irritating influence?

  “A ball is costly,” he said.

  “It is going to be a small ball,” Louisa said. “No more than fifty couples.”

  “With an orchestra,” he reminded her, having overheard her plans.

  “A six-piece string orchestra will not be too costly. You have enough flowers in the garden that we shan’t incur that expense if your mother is willing to arrange them.”

  “Will you, Mama?” Caroline asked, and he could see that his mother despised taking part in what she was certain would eventually break Caroline’s heart.

  Why had he agreed to this madness?

  “If you like,” his mother said quietly.

  Hawk shoved his chair back—the sound startling all three women—came to his feet, and strode to the window. He’d always known his mother was far too timid. Suddenly he found himself quite irritated by it.

  “I have a gown the Rose sisters gave me that I can alter to fit Caroline, so we’ll not have that expense,” Louisa said.

  “Food,” he snapped.

  “A Cinderella ball doesn’t require a dinner. Refreshments for our arriving guests, of course, but again that can be minimal.”

  “And who is going to see to taking care of all these guests as they arrive?”

  “We can hire a few servants from the village. I can train them.”

  He spun around. “In two weeks? You are planning this event to take place in two weeks.”

  “They will do little more than take wraps and hats and serve refreshments.”

  “But still we must pay them. We must purchase the food and invitations and pay the orchestra. How do you propose we do that?”

  She came to her feet. “Why are you being so disagreeable?”

  “I’m not being disagreeable, but as I listen to all your plans, the absurdity of attempting to host a ball when we have no funds—”

  “We have funds. The money the Roses gave me—”

  “I will not use your money.”

  “It became yours when we married.”

  He shook his head. “I will not pay for this ball with money you earned.”

  “Yet you’d have had no qualms at all about using Jenny’s money.”

  “Because she had an abundance. She did not work for it!”

  Louisa looked as though he’d struck her.

  “I was not issuing an insult,” he said hastily.

  “You think your life would be easier if you’d married Jenny.”

  “That goes without saying, but she’s not the one who walked into the damned library!”

  “How often do you plan to throw that into my face? You were being unscrupulous, and it was my duty to protect her at any cost, and I will remind you that it has cost me dearly. I didn’t want to marry you any more than you wanted to marry me, but here we are. You said we’d make the best of it. Well, obviously you are unclear as to the meaning of best!”

  He spun around because his mother and sister
had both widened their eyes and dropped their jaws. And his wife, dear God, she challenged him at every turn, and he was in danger of crossing over to her and taking her in his arms. She would never be as his mother was. She would never be timid; she would never not stand her ground.

  “Caroline, darling, perhaps we should leave,” his mother said.

  “There is no need,” Hawk said. “I have said all I have to say.”

  “I’m sorry, Hawk,” Caroline said. “We don’t have to have a ball. It was selfish of me to want one so badly.”

  Fisting his hands, he dropped his head back, anguish piercing his heart. How many times must he swallow his pride? Once more, just once more. Take the money Louisa offered.

  “Take your father’s portrait off the wall,” his mother said.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Pardon?”

  “Take your father’s portrait off the wall.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “Just do as I ask.”

  He crossed the room to the far wall, where his father’s portrait hung. Below it was one of three sitting areas in the room. The painting was his father as a young man. When he was younger, he’d spent hours staring at his father’s face, trying to see himself reflected in his father’s features. He didn’t think they looked much alike.

  He took hold of the frame, lifted the painting, stepped back, lowered it to the floor, and stared at the small door with the lock housed in the wall.

  He stared at his mother as she slipped a key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. She reached inside and removed an oblong, leather box. “Take this to a jeweler. I’m certain it’ll fetch a pretty penny, more than enough for Caroline’s ball.”

  Hawk took the box, opened it, and studied the glittering emeralds and diamonds. He lifted his questioning gaze to his mother.

  “Your father gave it to me on the day he married me,” she said softly.

  “You would barter his gift in order to have a ball for your daughter?”

  “I would barter it to relieve the burden I have placed on his son. It will not fetch a great deal, but it will fetch enough, enough for the ball, enough perhaps to see us through the winter.”