The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  “What do you know of her?” Valiant asked Beatrix.

  “Not much. She was engaged once.” Beatrix was idly fanning herself, likely just so she’d have something to do with her hands. “I believe the gentleman died in the war.”

  “How terrible.”

  “Her parents are gone as well. Illness took them both.” Beatrix looked at her. “Her grandmother and sister are all she has.”

  Valiant’s heart constricted.

  If anyone deserved happiness, it was Miss Milton.

  Perhaps, she’d just found the perfect person for Anthony.

  Two lost souls finally made into one.

  The thought warmed her, though she had to fight to ignore the memories of her and Anthony’s kiss as they assailed her mind one after the other.

  The music changed and Valiant watched as Anthony escorted Miss Milton to the dance floor. Beatrix also agreed to dance when another gentleman asked. Brinley had taken her place on the dance floor as well, but with her husband.

  “Are you not going to dance tonight?” Beatrix asked. “You usually have quite a few partners at these events.”

  Valiant barely listened to her friend. Her thoughts were on Anthony. “I don’t know.”

  Beatrix began to look around. “Odd. I don’t see your favorite partner anywhere.”

  That got Valiant’s attention. She turned to her. “And to whom do you refer?”

  Beatrix grinned at her. “Denhallow.”

  Valiant rolled her eyes. She did dance with Denhallow often. He had the ability to make her laugh even at the most inappropriate moments. He was Lore’s friend, but Valiant thought him a friend as well.

  She glanced around the room. Denhallow was not present, which was odd. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never missed the Reddington Ball.

  The music struck a beguiling note.

  Valiant’s heart raced as the dance began, and her gaze moved to Anthony and Miss Milton.

  Was this it? Was her work complete?

  Anthony, she noted, continued to look uninterested by everything and everyone.

  And then his gaze found hers and held it through the next few steps before he was forced to turn around.

  That one direct hot glance told her everything.

  Her work was not complete, because Anthony still wanted her.

  And Valiant called herself a terrible woman for being glad for it.

  It was only right that he slowly came to realize they were wrong for each other.

  It would give Valiant enough time to figure out what was wrong with her where Anthony was concerned.

  “Well?” Everly asked as she came to stand by her. “What do you think of Miss Milton?”

  “She’s too young,” Valiant said.

  “Twenty-three is still old enough to be counted a spinster,” Everly countered with a grin. “I believe Lord Cartelle will manage to see past that. Especially seeing as the woman truly wants him.”

  Valiant stared at Everly. “How do you know?”

  “The grandmother,” Everly said. “Lady Colbatch didn’t wish to introduce them, but Miss Milton insisted. She said she felt safer with a gentleman like Lord Cartelle in the room.”

  “Lady Colbatch told Anth… Cartelle this?” Valiant asked.

  Everly narrowed her eyes. She’d caught Valiant’s slip but let it go. “She did. I don’t think she entirely approves of Cartelle, but… he is a duke, murderer or not.”

  “He found Mr. Goody,” Valiant said. “He’s alive.”

  “Is he?” Everly asked, surprised.

  “Well, another man saw him a year ago,” Valiant said.

  “And Lord Cartelle told you this?” Everly asked in a voice that suggested he could be lying.

  “He did,” Valiant said with more force than she’d intended. “Really, there’d be no reason to lie about it. We’ve painted him a dark hero to the ladies of the beau monde. He’d have had no reason to bring it up at all.”

  Everly’s look was direct. “Unless he was trying to convince a lady he actually cared about.”

  Valiant turned away, back to the dance.

  Anthony and Miss Milton stood together, and the admiration in the younger woman’s gaze could not be missed.

  “He’d have no need to convince me,” Valiant said. “I already thought him innocent.”

  “Did you?” Everly asked in a teasing voice, moving closer as she did so.

  “I did,” Valiant said. “He dueled every other lord he took offense to. Cartelle may be partially Neanderthal, but he’s honorable. He wouldn’t dishonor himself with the likes of those other men.”

  Everly made a sound in the back of her throat. “Asher was right,” she said in a lower voice. “You do fancy the duke.”

  Anthony looked up at Valiant just then, and her breath got caught in her lungs.

  But again, the look had been far too short for anyone else to have seen it.

  “Valiant,” Everly called.

  Valiant turned to her. “What?”

  Everly’s gaze turned serious. “Tell me now if you want him for yourself. Otherwise, you could get hurt by the end of this.”

  She’d be hurt if she didn’t see this through. “I don’t want him.” She couldn’t allow Anthony to choose her. He’d regret it for the rest of his life.

  Noah had, though he’d never said it aloud. He’d been far too good a man to say anything that would hurt her.

  “I don’t know who is being more foolish,” Everly said. “You or Asher. Him to think that he could keep you away from him and you to willingly give the man away when he is clearly yours.”

  “He is not mine,” she hissed.

  But suddenly, she desperately needed to leave the room. “I’m parched. Care for some punch?”

  “No, thank you.” Everly’s expression was condescending. “I don’t need anything. I have everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

  Valiant’s cheeks burned. She turned away without another word and departed the ballroom.

  She was at its edge when Everly caught up and stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. I have my heart’s desire, thanks to you.”

  Valiant kept her gaze lowered, took a breath, and then looked at Everly. “You and Asher would have eventually figured it out.”

  “Yes,” Everly said. “But only because I’d have fought for him.”

  Valiant pulled away from Everly. “I don’t wish to speak about this.”

  “Noah is dead,” Everly said. The woman had never seen an argument she didn’t like. “You cannot let him control the rest of your life.”

  “He’s not!” Valiant covered her mouth after she realized she’d spoken loud enough to draw the attention of those who were near.

  She fled Everly’s side, pushing through the crowd until she was lost in the labyrinth of the Reddington residence.

  She found a moment of peace as she pushed through a side door that led out into the path that would likely lead to the garden, but with it being so dark outside, it was hard to tell.

  She heard a gasp and turned around to find a lady and gentleman pressed against the wall of the house, caught in a romantic embrace.

  She recognized the gentleman as Lord Pevgore. He was married. The woman was not his wife.

  Even in the shadows, she saw how embarrassed Peygore became. “Forgive me, my lady.”

  Was he sorry that he’d been caught or that he’d been caught by Valiant, who would likely take offense because her own husband had taken his pleasure from other women?

  She shook her head and turned away.

  She didn’t care about Lord Peygore, though she hoped Lady Peygore was not under the impression that her husband’s attentions were solely for her.

  She walked down the path to the garden and groaned aloud when she began to imagine Noah in the other’s lord’s position, taking some lady against a wall at such a public affair.

  Though Noah would have never done that. He was always careful.<
br />
  And Valiant hadn’t cared anyway. So long as he’d not come to her with his… needs.

  She’d failed her marriage thoroughly. She’d not deserved her husband’s kindness, yet he’d been the kindest man she’d ever known. She hated that he was gone.

  He’d been her friend.

  Was it terrible that she wished her husband alive so she could discuss her feelings for Anthony?

  And what did she feel for the Duke of Cartelle?

  “Nothing,” she whispered to herself as she kept to the path through the high bushes that finally led out to groups of flowerbeds.

  There was light here. She saw couples take to the paths, past fountains and beyond trees.

  It was a simple luxury to walk with a man one cared for, yet Valiant knew it would never be for her.

  She was not like other women. Something was wrong with her.

  But then nothing had felt wrong when she was with Anthony.

  Why?

  It didn’t matter. She had a debt to see to, and she would see to it. She was a Curbain. She knew better than to let feelings overrule her duty.

  She sat on a bench and thought about what needed to be done.

  Find Anthony someone who will love him.

  See him married.

  Let him go.

  She’d get it done, she told herself.

  She had to.

  For the only other choice would lead to a humiliation she’d not survive.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  1 3

  As Anthony walked into Ayers’ home the next morning, he had to remind himself that this was not a courting call he was making on Lady Valiant, for Anthony did not make calls to court young women. He had no ambition to marry. Instead, it was a simple social visit to a friend.

  Those and ones of a business nature were the only sort of calls he made.

  He told himself this as he followed the butler down the hall, taking note that his heart was senselessly racing.

  When was the last time he’d called on any woman? There was Lady Goody, but even on a good day, he could hardly call them friends. The women who shared his bed always came to him. He never went to them.

  Yet why the urge to search for Valiant? To seek her out when he’d not done so with the other women he’d desired?

  The butler showed him into a sitting room.

  Anthony jerked to a halt at the sight of Valiant.

  Slowly she came to her feet and a smile graced her face. Her eyes danced with a secret knowing that was far from illicit. Once again, he was startled by how much she was clearly glad to see him.

  And he realized just how different his desire for Valiant was compared to the others. He’d have liked to say it was simply a matter of lust. That he liked her more. Wanted her more.

  But that wasn’t it.

  There was a difference in the—dare he think it?—quality of his desire for Valiant. Like always, need filled him, yes, but there was something more. His heart acted strangely, and his thoughts weren’t as sharp.

  He could not be as calculating as he usually was. He often let his guard down around her.

  And he didn’t bother trying to fight it. He liked it. He liked being around her.

  He had no clue who moved first, but suddenly, they were both standing in the center of the room.

  “How did it go last night?” she asked.

  “Where did you go?” he asked at the same time.

  The butler left.

  Valiant brightened. She wore a dress that nearly matched the hue and vibrancy of her eyes. Nearly.

  “Where is your family?” he asked, surprised that they were alone.

  “Brinley decided she wished to purchase yet another trinket for the twins. Beatrix wished to do the same. Their husbands decided to accompany them. Asher and Everly left quite early this morning, but I don’t know where either has gone.”

  “Good, now where did you go last evening?” Asher asked.

  “Answer my question first,” Valiant said.

  “It was like any other night, I imagine,” Anthony said even while he knew it hadn’t been. More than a few young ladies had looked anxious to dance with him. Their mothers seemed to be unsure, but he could tell from their expressions that they’d not refuse him.

  But he had no wish to spend any time with any of them. He’d only danced with Miss Milton because it had been expected of him and Valiant had been watching. Yet once Valiant had disappeared from the ballroom, so had he.

  He’d begun to search the house for her until a group of gentlemen stopped him and asked questions about Mr. John Goody. They’d apparently been informed that Lord Goody had verified Anthony’s claim that his son was alive. He’d been seen by the ever-influential Mr. Humble in Luton, though not by Lord and Lady Goody themselves. Still, Mr. Humble’s words held weight and nearly cleared Anthony’s name.

  While he’d expected Lord Goody to verify his words, Anthony hadn’t expected Lord Goody to tell anyone else.

  The news that John Goody had been seen in Luton set off a certain buzzing around the party as speculations about the other missing men rose.

  Were they all also alive?

  Was the Duke of Cartelle actually innocent—except for on those occasions where he’d fought in a duel?

  He’d been pulled into one conversation after another, all of it on the missing lords, yet while such topics usually annoyed him, this time, there had been the absence of accusation in their voices. Instead, he’d been treated like any other man in the circle with only a small amount of fear of him lingering in their midst.

  It had left Anthony unsure of everything from his words to his reaction. An uncertainty he’d never had before.

  He was innocent. Mostly. According to the ton.

  And suddenly accepted.

  Thanks to a few words from Valiant.

  He wondered what more she could share with him. Could she help him find Mr. Goody and the others?

  Strangely, while that was a pressing matter, it was not as pressing as where she’d disappeared to last night. “I’ve answered your question. Answer mine,” he said.

  She frowned. “That was hardly an answer. It was a night like any other. Surely, you’ve more to say than that.” She turned and moved to the couch. Then she took a seat and looked at him expectantly.

  Anthony moved to a chair a few feet from her.

  He’d not dare sit beside her. That was too much temptation and though she was bound to only herself, he’d not disrespect Ayers in his own home.

  He was surprised she’d not barged into his home that morning demanding answers. Perhaps, she would have come if he’d waited longer, but he’d been too impatient. He’d wanted to see her.

  “The news about Lord Goody has spread,” he said. “Apparently, everyone has decided to forgive me for the crimes I’ve not committed.”

  Valiant shook her head. Her hands were pressed to her knees as she leaned forward. “Well, of course, you didn’t do it. Why bother challenging some and taking others in secret? It made no sense. At least, not to me.”

  His entire body relaxed. “People were pleasant.”

  “Excellent,” she said. “And how did it go with Miss Milton?”

  Some tension reentered him. “The woman was pleasant, but she is not who I want.” He saw no need to emphasize how much he wanted Valiant. He’d not repeat himself again.

  She was undeterred. “But perhaps, if you gave her a chance, you could like her.”

  “How old is she?” he asked. Not that it mattered.

  She pursed her lips suddenly, a very tempting look. “She is not fresh from the schoolroom. That is all that matters. Surely, you find her attractive at least?”

  Did she truly wish him to focus on another woman?

  He suddenly recalled the need for answers of his own. “Why don’t you have children?”

  The color bled from her face. Even her lips went pale. He regretted the question immediately.

  “I do not wish to discuss my marr
iage with Lord Beaumont.”

  “All right,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I never wish to discuss him.”

  Never? Did she mean she’d not discuss it with him or anyone? The latter would hardly make him feel better.

  He recalled the conversation he’d had with her when he’d asked if she’d loved her husband. He also recalled how much she’d cared when she’d believed him to have been distressed.

  Was it not then fair for her to share her problems with him?

  He knew a part of him only wished to use that information for his own use, but he still cared. He cared for Valiant more than he’d cared for anyone in a very long time.

  But she didn’t trust him. Did she believe he’d laugh or scorn her? If he told her he wouldn’t, would she then believe him?

  Suddenly, the distance would hardly do. He moved to the couch and sat beside her.

  Her chin lifted. Her expression seemed resolved.

  He touched her smooth cheek and watched color bloom across her flawless skin. Her lips parted. The hardness in her gaze melted as it was flooded with warmth and passion. And then there was the slight confusion, as though her very reaction to him were foreign to her.

  Again, he wondered if he was simply the first man she’d ever desired since her husband died or if he were the first man ever.

  Anthony did not have the audacity to believe it the latter.

  Yet if there was one thing he understood above all else, it was desire.

  He kept his voice low and hoped she didn’t find it threatening. “Have you any idea how much passion you harbor in your body?”

  Her lashes fluttered and then her gaze lowered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m quite learned in this category, Valiant. You cannot lie to me and shouldn’t do so to yourself.”

  She leaned away from his touch. “My passions are another thing I don’t wish to discuss.”

  “Very well.” He dropped his hand but leaned forward and said, “But I want you to know that in this field of study, you need never hesitate to ask me a question. I will never judge you, and I will always honor your honesty. You are always free to ask me anything about need, desire, and what goes on between a man and woman behind the bedchamber door. I swear to be as open as a book to you.” He hoped his words left her feeling empowered, as though he were a humble servant, ready and willing to do as she bid.