Regency Hearts Boxed Set

by Jennifer Monroe

  “Now, you know that is not true,” he said in reply. “We have conducted many deals together and have still remained friends. There is no reason to think this sale would change our relationship any more than the others.”

  The landholdings left by the Viscount of Drudly were vast, and Ingrid and her son were set for life. He knew of the rumors about the woman—that she had sent off her young son of ten to boarding school to allow her the opportunity to find a new husband. Or that she was hoping to marry a man even higher in standing than the viscount in order to gain his estates, as well. As far as Lucas was concerned, it was all rubbish; Ingrid had loved Joshua and still mourned him five years later, even if she no longer wore mourning clothes to show her loss. Lucas had seen the love they shared with his own eyes, and it pained him how the ton felt the need to muddy the man’s good name by speaking poorly of his widow.

  “I do have a request, if I may,” Ingrid said with a smile.

  “Of course,” Lucas replied. “Anything.”

  “Lord Gates is hosting a party next month, and it is rumored that that horrid Lord Townsend might ask me to accompany him.” She gave him a pout. “Save me from being forced to go with him by taking me yourself?”

  He laughed. She had used that same pout to get her way with Joshua when the man was alive. He hated to admit it, but it worked with him almost as well.

  “I will even sell you the Langley property if you do,” she added. “Then you will get something from it, as well.” He pretended to consider the offer, to which she responded by throwing a napkin at him. “Oh, you!” she said in mock exasperation.

  He laughed again. “Very well, we have a deal.” He held out his hand, which she took and shook it as firmly as any man would have.

  “Indeed, we have a deal, Your Grace,” she said with a mischievous smile.

  “Your Grace?” he asked.

  “Well, you do tend to be in a mood so often that it is difficult to know how I should address you.” Her eyes twinkled playfully as she spoke. “I find that, when conducting business with you, it would be best if I address you as such, for it seems to please you.”

  He chuckled. “You know me very well. However, I did not realize we were discussing business. Did we not plan to attend a party together?”

  “In exchange for allowing you to purchase that property about which you have been asking for over two months,” she replied with feigned haughtiness. “Therefore, it is a business arrangement. You will attend the party with me in exchange for the property.”

  “I will do no such thing,” he said. “I will pay you for that land at the going rate and still accompany you to the party.”

  “You do drive a hard bargain, Your Grace,” she said with a sigh. “To think that I also must allow you to give me money as well as be in my company….” She shook her head. “How difficult it is to get my friend to accompany me anywhere these days.”

  Lucas gaped at her. “You know that my attending the party with you has nothing to do with the land deal. I would never…”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Lucas, you are just too easy to fool!” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. And I am well aware that one is not dependent upon the other.”

  He let out a sigh of relief. “You definitely tricked me,” he said with a laugh.

  “Good. It keeps you at the ready.” She stood. “I will have my solicitor draw up the papers. Perhaps we might have another dinner to finalize the transaction? That is, if you still allow a guest to call more than once a year?”

  “I believe that can be arranged,” Lucas said with a laugh. He walked her outside and opened the carriage door for her.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said. She accepted his aid into the carriage and sat back into the cushions on the bench. “Know that I enjoy every time we are able to get together.”

  “As do I,” he said with a smile. “My mind as of late…” His voice trailed off as images of Emma appeared in his mind.

  “Has been focused on business, I know,” Ingrid finished for him, although it was not what he had meant to say. Yet, it was appropriate enough he did not correct her. “You are far too young to waste your life on worry. Promise me you will take care of yourself.”

  Lucas smiled. “I promise,” he replied. “And you, as well.”

  “I always take care of myself,” she said as she jutted her chin in clear defiance of any argument he might put forth. This, of course, made him laugh, and he closed the door with a shake to his head. She had been, and always would be, a great friend.

  Ingrid was correct in one thing—he would wake up one day and realize he was an old man. Perhaps attending the party with her would be good for him. Not for meeting a woman, however, Not yet, anyway. For he was not ready for marriage—there was too much to do before he settled.

  Furthermore, he could not keep his mind off Miss Barrington for long enough to enjoy the company of another woman.

  ***

  Lucas was unsure how long he was outside, but he had walked over to a waiting bench placed under a tree just outside the front door of the house, his mind reviewing the events of the day. Or more specifically, reviewing Miss Emma Barrington. What was it about her that made him feel so…? Hmm. What did he feel about the woman? The greater question was, could such feelings be permitted for a woman of her station by a man of his? Certainly, many dukes were known to cavort with women of the working and lower classes, but he was not many dukes. He was the Duke of Rainierd, and he did not lower his standards for a simple tryst with any woman. Despite his idea of decency, he found himself attracted to a bookkeeper’s daughter. His father would have been outraged.

  Eventually, the door opened and Goodard exited, a glass of brandy in each hand. Bonehedge Estates was located a fair distance from the village and, therefore, received few visitors. With no other family members left to whom he could speak to, Lucas had taken Goodard into his confidence. At first, the old butler had been beside himself with concern for overstepping his place. However, after Lucas ordered the man to join him for a drink, the butler had obeyed. It was satisfying to have a male companion with whom he could confide, and Goodard proved to be a very capable companion.

  “You have been listening in on my thoughts again?” Lucas asked as the old man handed him one of the glasses. “Well, come and sit beside me if you wish.” Although Lucas had gotten the butler to share in a drink, the man still would not sit without Lucas asking him first.

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” Goodard’s knee cracked as he took a rigid seat beside Lucas, but he made no complaint. He had not changed much since Lucas first recalled knowing him, which was over twenty years before, when the man had been head footman. Regardless, it was times like this where the faithful butler provided a sort of friendship Lucas appreciated. “You grow quiet for a man with much attention drawn to him.”

  Lucas laughed. “Have I not always been this way, Goodard?”

  The man gave an appreciative nod. “Indeed, Your Grace. However, you have not had so many women vying for your attention, at least not since you were eighteen and made your first journey to London during the London season.” He gave Lucas a wide grin.

  “You do enjoy bluntness, do you not?”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the man replied with an almost regal tone. “In most instances, being blunt is the only course of action.”

  Lucas took a sip of his brandy and sat back on the bench. “You are right, of course, about the women. Ingrid is a friend and nothing more.” He eyed the man for a moment. “Unless you are speaking of Miss Barrington. I can assure you; she is here only to help me with the books. You know how dismal my bookkeeping skills are.”

  “I see, Your Grace,” Goodard said. “And Lady Babbitt? She is a woman of wealth. You two are already good friends; an excellent start to something else perhaps?”

  “Ingrid is wise, strong, and determined in her ways,” he said with a laugh. “And before you
mention her beauty, allow me to stop you there. Yes, most men find her beautiful, but she is not for me.”

  “You find her beautiful but have no interest?”

  “I have no interest in her beyond friendship.” He shook his head. “I feel nothing for her. I understand that love can grow, but we have been friends for much too long to ruin it by throwing love, or even courtship, into the mix. No, it would be best if we maintained our current relationship as it is.”

  “I understand,” Goodard replied. “And Miss Barrington? What of her?”

  Lucas took another sip of his brandy to give himself not only a moment to think of a reply, but to allow the fire of the drink to put his thoughts into perspective. “I do not know her. She is kind, highly intelligent, and one might see her as beautiful.”

  “One might?” the butler asked. “But you, Your Grace?”

  “See her as beautiful?” When the older man nodded, Lucas replied, “Why, yes, of course. She is a delicate creature to be sure. However, she has a fire inside her that burns so brightly…” He sighed. “When she releases it, it is as though she could stop the wind from blowing, and yet, she controls it so well.”

  It became quiet, their attention lying out into the darkness of the trees. Lucas wondered if Goodard would speak again, if he would give some sort of wondrous advice as he had in the past, and when he spoke again, Lucas felt a sense of relief.

  “Before I came to work for your father, I was an apprentice to a blacksmith.”

  Lucas turned toward the stoic man, shocked at this revelation. “Were you really? I did not know!”

  “Oh, yes,” Goodard replied with a light chuckle. “The blacksmith with whom I was apprenticed said I had great potential. I dreamed of opening my own forge, and from there taking on other apprentices. In my mind’s eye, I imagined people coming from all over England to witness my great skills.” Lucas laughed, as did Goodard. Then the old man shook his head. “I had been married only a month, and I was gone from sunrise to sunset every day. To me, it was the only way to reach the grand ideal I had created in my head. She rarely complained, but when she did, I assured her that one day, I would have enough money, and then we would spend all our time together.” He gave a heavy sigh, and sadness filled his features. “However, I never expected her to fall ill.”

  “I am sorry,” Lucas said. “I did not know. I am certain you still miss her.”

  “I do. However, I do not tell you this story to garner pity. I wish you to know that life is precious. You believe your future is laid out before you, but you do not know what may come. You are but five and twenty today, but tomorrow, you will be thirty.”

  Lucas considered the man’s words. “I believe I understand, but I am unsure as to your point.”

  “Your anger over the loss of your parents, especially your father, has driven you to consume yourself with work. Perhaps it is time to begin thinking of finding someone to love.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lucas let it out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. Although what the old man said was true, it did not mean Lucas liked it. “I do worry that my anger is so great at times that I will scare away any woman. Apparently, everyone—rich or poor—knows of my temper and have placed upon me the moniker of the Duke of Storms.”

  Goodard stood and took the empty glass from Lucas. “Then, might I recommend you find someone to calm it, Your Grace, before it is too late. If you desire a woman, tell her. Spend every moment you can with her. If not, you will live to regret it.” With a sad look, he gave a diffident bow and returned to the house, the wall between stations put back into place between them.

  Lucas looked up at the stars. The wisdom given this night was great, and it gave him much on which to think. For the storm inside consumed him, and he wondered if Miss Barrington would be able to calm it.

  Or if such a task was even something she wished to accomplish.

  Chapter Nine

  Upon entering the office in Bonehedge Estates, Emma noticed three things. The first was the extra chair that had been situated beside the desk. The second was the dark blue coat that fit the duke quite well, as did his breeches and stockings, which allowed a pleasant view of his well-formed calf. The third and final thing she noticed was the smile the man wore. Perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight streaming in from the window, but his smile seemed to radiate around the room.

  “I take it your journey was without incident,” the duke said as he moved away from the window.

  Emma dropped him a quick curtsy before replying, “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you again for your kindness in sending a carriage for me.”

  He came to stop in front of her, and for some odd reason, her breathing became labored. Was it growing hot in the room? She glanced at the fireplace, wondering why he would have a fire lit in the middle of the summer, only to find it empty. She wished she had thought to bring a fan with her.

  “I am happy to be of assistance,” he said with a smile. “Please, sit. I have set up another chair so I may watch and learn.” Then he surprised Emma by walking around the desk and pulling out the chair for her.

  As if in a haze, she walked over and sat in the chair, the duke pushing it forward. It was all so strange, but Emma smiled at him, nonetheless. “Thank you,” she murmured. Inside, all she could wonder was, Who is this man? He certainly is not the same man I called upon two days ago.

  The duke sat in the extra chair, a high-backed piece that clearly had not been designed for comfort, and when he turned that smile on her, the haze around her thickened. Her cheeks burned, and she had to shake her head to clear it. She was here for business, not for some imagined tryst with a duke, handsome or not. If she had any sort of contemplations that something more might come out of this arrangement, she only had to remind herself of the lady guest who had arrived to have dinner with him to bring her back to reality. That and the fact he was a duke and she a simple bookkeeper’s daughter. The latter was more prevalent than the former by far.

  “The last time I was here,” she said, attempting to keep her voice from shaking, “I spoke of your penmanship. May I ask why it appears rushed?”

  “I find the task of bookkeeping a bore,” the duke replied. “And your observations are correct. I find myself rushing to take down notes or enter the amounts.”

  Emma nodded and then turned to the man. She had to tread lightly, for her next words could be taken in a much different manner than she intended. “You employ the services of my father, and yet you find the need to keep your own accounts. May I ask why?”

  “It is a reasonable question,” the man replied as he sat back in the chair. “The truth of the matter is, I find the need for two sets of books in case…well, any thievery was to take place.” He raised a hand as if in defense. “Not you or your father,” he said with a chuckle. “It is a practice my father taught me.” He went quiet, and then he shook his head as if clearing an unwanted thought. “I need not rush, and I must improve on my penmanship. Is that correct?”

  “That would be a good start,” Emma replied, unsure if she should be offended or if she should laugh. This man was a contradiction in himself. Yet, as she gazed into his eyes, she found it difficult to pull away. What would happen if she were to stand, lose her footing, and end up in his arms? She blinked. From where had that thought come?

  She cleared her throat. “I will also ask that you trust me,” she continued, surprised that her voice was even. What she had expected was a tiny squeak rather than the calm tone that she was able to produce. What was wrong with her? If she did not put her thoughts in order soon, the possibility of her losing this precious account was certain!

  Placing a finger on the sum at the bottom of the page that was open before her, she said, “What you have calculated for this account is forty pounds more than what I calculated.”

  The duke leaned forward and his arm brushed hers. He did not seem to notice, but Emma certainly did, for heat radiated through her body and her throat became parched. She tried to bring moisture to
her mouth, but her mouth had become as arid as a desert.

  “How do you know my numbers are not correct?” he asked. “What if the error is on your part?”

  Summoning all her strength, Emma managed to produce words as she pointed to a number on the page. “This here. Look how the nine is written when in fact it is…”

  “An eight,” he said before dropping back in his chair as if in shock. “I presume that is not the only error you found?”

  Emma smiled. “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” she moved her finger to another digit on the page, “but you can see a similar mistake here, and here, as well.” She glanced up to find the duke not studying the notations but instead, studying her. “Your Grace?”

  “Yes?” he asked before giving a start and returning his attention to the ledger. “I see now.”

  Emma wondered if he did, indeed, see the errors, but she realized it did not matter, for she would be paid either way.

  “I find it amazing.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “The way you understand numbers. It is a gift, I would say.”

  “I do have an aptitude for them,” she said, enjoying the compliment. “I suppose I always have.”

  “Tell me about…”

  The door opened, and a man in livery entered the room and stopped with a gasp. “Oh, forgive me, Your Grace!” he said, his eyes wide. “I thought you were not here.”

  The duke stood, rage etched on his features. “Never again open that door when it is closed!” he shouted at the poor man, who cowered in fear. “Do you understand? Never again!”

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” the man murmured, his back hunched as if the man who shouted at him might strike him at any moment. “Truly, I am sorry.” He backed out the door, still mumbling apologies in that cowed manner, much like a dog with its tail between its legs after it has lived a life of abuse.

  When the door closed, the duke returned to his chair as if nothing was amiss. “My apologies. Please, continue. What other errors have you found?”