Duke of Her Own, A

by Lorraine Heath

  He downed the brandy and poured more.

  He would finally acquire the woman he’d set his sights on originally: Jenny Rose.

  A lucrative settlement would make life easier for them all. Caroline would have many suitors.

  He tossed back the brandy and poured more.

  He could quickly rebuild his estates. He could make life easier for his heir.

  So why in God’s name did he feel so bloody awful? Why did he feel as though his heart had been ripped from his chest? Why did he feel bereft, with a need to weep, a need to howl like a wounded animal?

  He heard the rapid footsteps. He turned with hope beginning to unfold like the petals on a rose. She’d changed her mind.

  But it was his mother who entered the library. “Louisa asked Denby to help cart her trunks to Jeremy Rose’s coach.”

  He turned back to the bottle, refilled his glass, and drank its contents. “We’re having the marriage annulled. She’s leaving.”

  “Is this what you want?”

  “It does not matter what I want. Her happiness comes above all else.”

  “And why should her happiness be so damned important?”

  He swung around. “Because I love her above all else!” He shook his head, fighting back the bitter tears. Turning from her, he downed more brandy.

  “Then go after her,” his mother said.

  He glared over her shoulder. “What would you have me do? Hoist her over my shoulder? Lock her in a tower?”

  His mother shook her head. “I would have you not be so proud. I would have you find the courage to go after what you want. I know what it is to live every day regretting that I had far too much pride and too little courage to say yes when Caroline’s father asked me eighteen years ago to marry him. But I was a duchess, my son was a duke, and he was but a gardener.”

  Hawk stared at her, stunned. “Denby is her father?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I let my daughter be born out of wedlock, born in shame, I placed a terrible burden upon my son, because I refused to marry a man whom I feared Society would consider to be beneath me, to be unworthy when it was I who was unworthy. I am faced with that bitter truth every day as his love and loyalty have never waned.”

  He took a step toward her, his greatest fear on the tip of tongue. “Is he my father as well?”

  Her eyes widened with shock. “No, no, your father was the fourth Duke of Hawkhurst. I swear to you. I remained faithful to him until the end.”

  He bowed his head with the weight of doubt lifted from his shoulders.

  He felt her fingers in his hair. “Oh, my dear son, all these years—”

  “I was afraid I was not the true duke. That I was tainted.”

  Tears washed down her face. “I have done so poorly by my children. Forgive me. I beg of you, forgive me.” She touched his cheek. “Do not let her go if you truly love her.”

  Louisa sat in the carriage, staring at the manor house. She was no good with good-byes, hadn’t been since she’d said good-bye to her mother. She could hardly do them without a flood of tears, and so she’d simply left a letter in the duchess’s bedchamber, as well as in Caroline’s.

  “We’ll leave when you’re ready,” Jeremy said.

  “I’ve grown rather fond of the drafty old place.”

  “I’ll purchase you a drafty old place if that will make you happy.”

  She looked at him. “Money makes everything so much easier, doesn’t it?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “No, not really. Do you love him, Louisa?”

  “I’m not what he needs. What if I’m not what you need?”

  Before he could answer, she heard the rush of heavy footsteps on the drive, looked out the window, and saw Hawk running toward her. “Something must be terribly wrong.” She moved to open the door. “Let me see what’s amiss. I won’t be but a moment.”

  Not waiting for his response, in a most unladylike manner, she scrambled out of the carriage as Hawk, breathing harshly, stumbled to a stop before her.

  “Denby is Caroline’s father,” he said.

  She nodded, wondering at his urgency to tell her something that was no longer her concern. “I thought as much.”

  She watched as he swallowed. “I feared he was mine as well. I knew my mother’s marriage was not a love match, and I feared she might have been unfaithful to my father. That I was not the true heir, but she assures me that is not the case. She didn’t marry Denby because she considered him beneath her. I cannot imagine the torment of marrying a woman who doesn’t love you enough, who doesn’t believe in you.”

  He bowed his head, his breathing becoming less harsh. “I wasn’t in bed when you awoke this morning because I went to London.” He lifted his dark gaze to hers, a gaze she thought she would forever see whenever she closed her eyes. “I had decided a woman as courageous as you should have a husband who did not live in the shadows.”

  “But you don’t—”

  “I do, Louisa. I’m no different from my mother. What have I truly accomplished with my life? The only thing of any value I have truly done was to marry you. You have inspired me. This morning I took my manuscript to a publisher.”

  Her heart expanded to such a degree that she could almost feel it pressed against her ribs. “What did they say?”

  He shook his head. “I dropped it over the transom. I’d heard once Dickens simply did that, and so I thought to give it a try. I don’t know if anything will come of it, but I decided you were right. Just as you were right about Caroline’s introduction into Society: It is better to know than to spend one’s life always wondering.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad you did it. If it is published, I shall purchase the first copy.”

  “If it is purchased I shall gift you with a copy.”

  “Even if you give me a copy, I shall want the joy of purchasing one.”

  He held her gaze, and she watched as he swallowed. “Do you love him?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you love Jeremy Rose?”

  “I’m quite fond of him.”

  He nodded as though uncertain what to say next.

  “I shall not marry Jenny,” he finally said.

  She stared at him, stupefied. “But it is arranged—”

  “It was not arranged by me, and it is not what I want.”

  “Not what you want? It was Jenny you thought was in the library, Jenny whom you schemed to obtain.”

  “I swear to you that from the moment you agreed to become my wife, I have never regretted a moment I have had with you.

  “If you truly love Jeremy Rose and wish to be his wife, then I have done you a disservice more terrible than I realized, and you may leave with no guilt or regrets and know I will not object to an annulment. I shall wish you the best and pray for your fervent happiness.

  “But if you do not love him, or if you only suspect you might love him and are not entirely sure, then I beg of you not to leave, I beg of you to stay and to give me the opportunity to entice you into falling in love with me.

  “If the only affection you can ever hold for me is no larger than the tip of your pinky, it shall be more enough.”

  “And if it is my entire heart?”

  “Then I beg you, do not go.”

  She felt the tears burning her eyes. “I want only what is best for you.”

  “That settles it then. You’re staying.”

  Before she could respond, he’d lifted her into his arms and swung around. “Rose, she’s staying with me.”

  Jeremy was gazing out the carriage window.

  “I thought she might be.”

  “Oh, Jeremy, I’m so frightfully sorry,” Louisa said.

  “Don’t be. I wasn’t really keen on living in an old drafty manor. I’ll break the news to Mother.”

  “She’ll be furious, but tell her not to worry. Assure her I’ll find suitable husbands for Kate and Jenny. I shall find a wife for you as well. And I shan’t charge you a fee!” she called out, as Hawk began stridi
ng toward the manor.

  “He’s been so kind it’s rude of us to simply walk away. I should say a bit more to him.”

  “You’ve said more than enough, I assure you,” Hawk said. “Denby!”

  Louisa saw the gardener moving away from the roses he’d been pruning.

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “My duchess is staying. Please assist with getting her trunks back into the house. And when you’re finished, ask my mother for her hand in marriage and keep asking until she gives it.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Do you think she’ll say yes this time?” Louisa asked.

  “She damned well better. There is no greater pleasure in life than having at your side the one you love.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

  “That, darling, was before I came to know you.”

  Sated and content, languid, and barely able to move from the thorough loving she’d just received—and given—Louisa lay nestled against her husband’s side. He’d carried her straightaway to his bedchamber and proceeded to prove, once again, that when it came to passion, he was exceptionally skilled.

  “Dear God, but you are so beautiful.”

  “Not like Jenny,” she murmured.

  He lifted his head, looked down on her, and she did wish she’d kept her thoughts to herself.

  “To me you are beautiful. Ask me the color of Jenny’s eyes or the shape of her mouth, and I could not tell you. But your eyes I see in all things blue.”

  Reaching up, she combed her fingers through his hair. “You took my advice and began reading poetry.”

  “No. You deserve words that have been uttered to no other.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. “For so long, I have vastly misjudged you.”

  “Considering your original opinion of me, I could not ask for a kinder compliment.”

  He lay back down, drawing her up against his side. “You said something earlier that is only just now becoming clear in my mind,” he murmured, as he pressed his lips to the top of her head where it was nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “You said it was Jenny I thought was in the library.”

  She tilted her head back. He was looking down on her, his eyes dark as they met her gaze. “Well, yes. Hawk, I am fully aware you thought you were compromising Jenny, and you married me to spare my reputation—”

  She released a small squeak as he rolled them both over until she was lying beneath him, his body raised up above her, his dark eyes searching, the knuckles of one hand grazing her cheek tenderly.

  “Louisa, do you honestly believe I did not know who was in the library with me?”

  “You were expecting her, and it was dark—”

  He lowered his head, and she heard him inhale deeply. “I would know your scent anywhere.”

  He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot below her ear. “I would know the softness of your cheek against my fingers, the press of your small body against mine.

  “You think I didn’t realize I had to dip my head a quarter of an inch more in order to press my lips to yours?”

  Her heart was pounding so hard she barely heard what he said.

  “You think I didn’t recognize your voice when you spoke my name?”

  “It was but a whisper.”

  “That’s all I needed. A whisper.” He kissed the column of her throat.

  “A scent.” He kissed behind her ear again.

  “A kiss.” He covered her mouth with his, his tongue imploring her lips to part. Cradling her face with his large hands, he angled her head so he could deepen the kiss.

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “I knew full well who was in that room with me. I was well aware of the risk I was taking. But I could no more resist you then than I could cease to breathe.

  “‘I shall take her once,’ I thought, ‘and be done with her.’ And each time I have you I only want you more. When I wake up, I watch you sleep, and a fierce possessiveness I have never experienced with any other woman takes hold of me. You are mine.

  “Do I wish I had the financial settlement that would have followed Jenny Rose to the altar? I cannot deny it would have made various aspects of life easier. Do I wish she were in my bed? Do I wish she were the one I wake up next to in the morning, the one whose breathing lulls me into slumber at night? Do I wish it were she who pricks my temper and challenges me at every turn? I absolutely do not.

  “Never doubt, for one second, that I knew full well who was with me in the library.”

  “I don’t understand. If you knew, then why—”

  He pressed his thumb against her lips, silencing her words. “Because you were the one woman with whom I knew I would never grow bored. I do not know when I first realized that I loved you—”

  “You love me?”

  “With everything I have.” He smiled sadly. “As little as that is.”

  Smiling wickedly, she reached down and wrapped her hand around him. “My dear husband, I think you are unaware of exactly how much you have to offer.”

  Sometime later, after he’d again given her everything, she lay snuggled against his side.

  “Hawk?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Jenny and Kate are always arguing about which comes first, passion or love.”

  “And?”

  “So which do you think comes first?”

  “In our case, sweetheart, I suspect they arrived at the same time.”

  Epilogue

  “I can’t believe you kept the box all these years,” the dowager duchess said, as they—she, Hawk, Caroline, and Louisa—sat in the drawing room of the London residence. They’d just returned from an evening at the opera.

  “I wanted it available to you in case you ever did return to London,” Hawk said, his hand stretched out along the back of the couch, his fingers toying with strands of Louisa’s hair.

  Although she always wore her hair up, she also always left strands dangling down, because it ensured that he constantly touched her.

  “It was so frightfully exciting,” Caroline said, sitting on a smaller sofa beside her mother. “I daresay there is not a thing about London that I have yet to love.” She looked at Louisa. “You are going to have a party to celebrate the book coming out, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” Louisa said. “But that won’t be for a while yet.”

  Three of Hawk’s faerie stories were going to be published. They would include pictures Louisa had drawn. Hawk had been correct when he said they’d never become rich from his writings, but it was a start.

  And Louisa was certain once she finished her obligations to the Rose family—Mrs. Rose was insisting the new duchess find suitable husbands for her daughters and a wife for her son—she would be able to secure other positions. As she’d once told Hawk, his title was currency. It seemed so was hers.

  Louisa couldn’t be happier, although on occasion thoughts of Denby would sadden her. She didn’t understand Hawk’s mother’s refusal to marry the gardener, but the man seemed to accept without rancor that he’d never take her to wife.

  Sometime later, she stood out on the terrace, looking off into the night. She heard her husband come up behind her. He slipped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck.

  “Come to bed,” he whispered in a voice that promised pleasure.

  “In a moment.”

  He drew her closer against him. “Are you thinking of your brother?”

  She nodded.

  “One day he’ll come ask for your forgiveness, but not until he’s finished fighting his own demons.”

  “I will forgive him in a heartbeat.” She turned around and wound her arms around his neck. “Because in a strange way, he is responsible for my happiness. His actions ensured that I marry you.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Incredibly.”

  “At the opera I noticed you took the Duke of Blackburn aside.”

  “Yes, I was making an inquiry regarding his oldest son.”
/>
  “For Jenny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “And what, pray tell, is wrong with the son who will one day become a duke?”

  “An addiction to garlic.”

  She laughed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “’Tis true. I spoke with him at the club just last week. His breath was overpowering.”

  “Keep finding fault with every man I consider for Jenny, and I’ll begin to think you have an interest in her.”

  “Never. But it is my responsibility in this chaperone endeavor of yours to ensure you make no errors in judgment.”

  “Then tell me what you know about the Duke of Hawkhurst.”

  He lifted her into his arms. “The man is perfection—”

  She giggled.

  “Passionate.”

  She couldn’t deny the truth of those words. With a sigh she snuggled her head against his shoulder as he carried her into the house.

  “And they say he is madly in love with his wife,” Hawk finished.

  “Do they also say she is madly in love with him?”

  He started up the stairs. “Indeed they do.”

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers: As a writer, I know most have an uncanny ability to weave fact and fiction so that it is often difficult to distinguish between the two. As a reader myself, when I read a story, I wonder what is truly fact, what is fiction.

  Social chaperones did indeed exist, and while they were to keep a watchful eye, their main purpose was to evaluate the rank and character of the gentlemen who were giving attention to the ladies under their supervision.

  Titled ladies chaperoning wealthy American heiresses during the last twenty years of the nineteenth century is a fact. Many discreetly advertised their services in The Times or in ladies’ magazines.

  By the 1880s young ladies were insisting on more freedom, and chaperones were seldom required when they participated in outdoor events.

  The Rational Dress Society, begun by Viscountess Haberton and Mrs. King, did indeed exist and put forth the notion that the weight of women’s clothing should be limited to no more than seven pounds.

  Smaller, more intimate balls that did not include dinner and ended at midnight were referred to as Cinderella dances or balls.