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

by Deborah Wilson

  Valiant stroked his arm. Her voice was strained. “I’m sorry. Did Lady Kurdley not love you?”

  He kissed Valiant’s bare shoulder and closed his eyes. He inhaled her fine scent and said, “I thought she did, but my father… Everything was a competition for him. He somehow won her over, had been working to do so for some time, I discovered.”

  Valiant said nothing more, but he heard a sniff.

  He sat up and looked at her, though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Valiant, don’t weep. Had I married Lady Kurdley, I’d never have had you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But it still hurts.”

  He bent down, and their noses touched. Her mouth was easy to find after that.

  They kissed for long moments, Anthony fighting away thoughts from the past so that he could dwell in the moment. He was happy. He loved Valiant, and she loved him. She’d never betray him.

  She touched his cheek and whispered, “Tell me about the duel. I want to know now so that we never have to discuss this again.”

  He nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “We’d both been drinking. Our seconds tried to tell us not to do it. My father was just as intent on it happening as I was. A part of me is certain he’d not have wished me dead, but he’d have tried to hurt me enough to make it clear that he was better than me.”

  “Yet there’s another part that wonders…” Valiant’s words slipped away.

  “He could have killed me,” he said. “But I didn’t mean to kill him. I had a good aim, even while inebriated. I turned my gun so that it would not touch his body, yet he tripped into the bullet’s path. It never should have happened. The bullet hit his shoulder. He bled out before we could get him to a doctor.”

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and stroked down his arms. “I’m sorry, Anthony.”

  He buried his face in her throat, and Valiant’s hands slid down his back. Her touch was soothing. He was also glad to have shared the entire story with her. She deserved to know, though he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to it once their emotions settled.

  Would she turn on him as well?

  Her arms locked around him, holding him firmly against her. “It was an accident. A terrible one. You will not blame yourself for it anymore.”

  “Valiant—“

  “You will not punish yourself for it anymore. It was long ago, Anthony. You are a different man. A new man. The old is gone.”

  It was not that simple. Was it?

  “Lord Goody doesn’t blame you for John’s death,” Valiant said. “He blames himself.”

  Anthony stiffened. “How do you know?”

  “Lady Goody told me.”

  Anthony sat up. “He shouldn’t. He’s a good and honest man who loves his wife and clearly loved his son.”

  He heard the smile in Valiant’s voice. “I know, which is why I wish for you two to get along.”

  “Finding me a wife wasn’t enough?” he asked. “Now, you seek to give me a father?”

  “I seek your happiness.” Her hands threaded through his hair.

  No one had ever fought for him so hard. They were married and still, she fought when she could have settled for what contentment he could find with her.

  Not his Valiant.

  “I will try to get along with Lord Goody,” he said.

  “Good. Now, let’s go to sleep. I’m tired,” his wife declared.

  “Not so.” He flung the covers back. “You’ve wakened me in more than one way. Now, I shall have you.”

  Laughter rang deep from her throat. “Anthony! But we’ve already done this tonight. Twice!”

  “Lesson number thirteen.” He’d taught her many, many lessons about coupling. “No counting.” Then he kissed the moan from her lips and allowed his mind to think of nothing but the woman in his arms.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Valiant watched her husband do yet another spin upon the ice before gliding in a circle around her, turning at the last minute so that she was forced to hold his eyes. Crossing her arms, she asked, “Why did you lead me to believe you’d not done this in years?”

  Anthony’s smile was quite coy. His handsomeness, against the backdrop of blankets of snow, with the wind whipping his dark hair, managed to steal her breath in the same fashion it had years ago. “I wished to win the bet.”

  They’d made many bets since the beginning of their marriage. They were all small games that each enjoyed. Valiant usually lost.

  And rarely had she minded.

  Especially when losing also included heated kisses from Anthony.

  All over her body.

  They were on the pond behind the dowager’s house, a place Anthony said he’d skated as a boy. Lady Cartelle had greeted Valiant warmly, and Valiant had fallen in love with the dowager instantly… only to have the woman forget who she was less than an hour later.

  Anthony had noticed her condition was getting worse and sent for a doctor… only to have it confirmed.

  His mother didn’t have long.

  Valiant saw the concern and sadness in Anthony’s eyes and had made it her duty to see to the dowager nearly every day while trying to comfort the man who held her heart.

  Lord and Lady Goody had come to visit and Valiant knew Lord Goody’s presence had helped her husband heal the wounds his father had left. They also wrote to one another and she’d catch Anthony smiling whenever a missive came in. The notes were about investments and politics, Anthony told her, but if there was anything of a personal nature, she didn’t know.

  Still, the letters were good, and Anthony could use all the love he could get considering he was about to lose his mother.

  From the window, Valiant could see the dowager watching them.

  Valiant waved.

  She ignored the confusion on Anthony’s mother’s face and smiled anyway.

  Turning back to her husband, Valiant said, “It’s cheating if you don’t say the whole truth.” She moved closer. Anthony took her hands when she was in reach. The cold bit into her cheeks. Her breath clouded before her.

  Anthony continued to skate leisurely circles, guiding Valiant over the ice. “If you must know, I’ve not skated for years, but some things you never forget.” A shadow passed over his eyes.

  His mother was forgetting everything.

  Valiant moved closer, and Anthony’s arms went around her.

  She rested her head on his chest.

  Their skates slowed until they were in the middle of the pond.

  Small flakes of snow fell around them and landed softly on his coat.

  “All right,” Anthony said. “I’ll let you choose where we go for Christmas and Twelfth Night.” He rubbed her back. “I think you would have a better holiday with your family, but if you really want to, we can remain here.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “I want to stay here.” Because she knew within her heart that Anthony wanted to, needed to be close to his mother.

  He touched her cheek. “You’re doing this for me.”

  She smiled. “You’d do no less for me.”

  He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. His skin was alluringly warm. “I’d do anything for you,” he breathed against her mouth.

  She kissed him and within seconds, the cold was no competition for the heat that grew in her body. With the way Anthony’s hands roamed her and his tongue snaked against hers, Valiant was surprised the ice didn’t melt underneath them.

  “I need you,” she whispered.

  He groaned. “Insatiable woman.”

  She laughed and then gasped as he picked her up and skated toward the bank with her in his arms.

  On the bank, they removed their skates and walked hand in hand to the main house.

  Inside, their passion flared.

  Anthony dropped his wife on the bed and followed her. “I love you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”

  His e
yes still held a touch of sadness, but then they warmed just as his words grew outlandish. “Tonight, I get you with child.”

  Valiant laughed and had to bite back from telling him that it was impossible to get her with child… seeing that she was already carrying.

  But it would be her gift to him on Christmas.

  “You can try,” she said instead, knowing that he needed to be teased, distracted for a time.

  And to the man who everyone had found imperfect, but had given her the world, she’d give him anything.

  Her hopes.

  Her body.

  Her everlasting, valiant love.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  Keep Reading

  From: Deborah Wilson

  To: Beloved Readers

  Subject: Next book in the series

  Hi lovelies!

  Thank you for reading The Last Duke, which is book 04 in the Valiant Love series.

  The next book is targeted to release on 06th Feb.

  While waiting for the next breathtaking book in the series…

  I believe you will love to read the previous book in the series, which I had such a good time writing it.

  Flip the page for a special first look at the previous book.

  Thank you for reading my books and letting me serve you doing what I love!

  xx Love,

  Deborah Wilson

  Author of Valiant Love series

  CHAPTER 01

  April 1817

  North England

  Lady Everly Wycliff tried very hard not to roll her eyes at all the high-pitched bickering taking place around her. She was surrounded by a thong of young ladies who’d have never been her first choice for company, but they were friends of her cousin Diana’s, so she was forced to remain.

  “Oh, but, Diana,” Miss Abigail Christensen whined. She was a very thin, very pretty blonde with big blue eyes.

  “You must add snowdrops to your bouquet. It would make the world of difference.”

  “Yes,” Miss Mary Parris agreed. “You must. Only a spring bride may use them, as they die when summer comes.”

  Diana leaned back and set her shoulders. “But one simply does not mix primrose with snowdrops. There will be enough white in my bouquet as is.” Her green eyes scanned the room for opinions and a slight smirk touched her lips when she looked at Everly, as though her cousin knew just how tedious she thought the conversation to be.

  Diana, by everyone’s measure, looked like Everly. She had the same shade of vivid red hair, as though the sun stored its inner heat in their every curl. A true redhead.

  Their soft features were close as well. The only difference rested in their eyes. Everly’s were gold, and Diana’s a dark green and far less jaded than her cousin’s.

  The two, when together, were often mistaken for sisters.

  Diana’s smirk became a full-on grin as the inconsequential struggle over the appropriate flowers went on.

  Every girl wished to make her opinion known.

  Did a spring bride truly need snowdrops in her bouquet? Could one marry at all without the precious white petals of the primrose?

  Thankfully, the drawing room in Peterson House was a glowing yellow that would have managed to lift even the lowest of spirits. The country air of early spring breezed into the room along with the scent of the lavender her Aunt Felicity had planted underneath the windows.

  Everly had spent many summers in this house. She visited often as a child until her mother grew too ill to make the long journey. Diana’s mother had been sister to Everly’s father and a close friend to her mother.

  Peterson House sat on a hill and, through the window, Everly had the perfect view of Ayers’ Castle. The gray stone fortress was a testament to the great men who’d made England what it was, many of those men having been blood to the family who now held it as their seat.

  The Curbains.

  She’d known the Curbain family while growing up. Out of the four, she’d become closer to the younger two Curbains; Lord Lore and Lady Valiant. Lord Hero had always had his own set of friends while Lord Asher, who was now the Duke of Ayers, had always been the perfect lord, doing everything just as he should without deviating from the plans that had been set before one of his station.

  Which meant he was humorless and dull.

  “Everly.” Diana’s call made her turn away from the window. “What say you? Shall I add the snowdrops or not?”

  The entire room held their breath for her answer.

  Everly was quite aware of the power she wielded in nearly every room she set foot in. She was the daughter of the former Earl of Ellervear, who’d become Prime Minister around the time of Everly’s presentation at sixteen.

  She’d hosted parties on her father’s behalf, since her mother had been far too ill to do so, events that had soon become the crown of the Season.

  Her esteem had gained the notice of the most powerful women in London; the patronesses of Almack’s.

  She’d been the first to be offered a seat in the prestigious group when it became available around her twenty-third birthday.

  And now, at thirty and one, she ruled without the aid of a husband. She was Lady Wycliff in her own right. Loved. Revered. And hated by every mama with a daughter who thought to become anything like her—a self-proclaimed spinster who refused to remain on the edge of any ballroom.

  And as it would happen, Everly had been invited to throw a party at the town’s hall before the crowds moved to London.

  She was to host a masquerade in town the night of the wedding in Diana as Lady Renner’s honor. For if there was anything Everly did know best, it was how to have a splendid time.

  “The best thing to do,” Everly said, “would be to see what the bouquet looks like with and without it. Then you make a decision.”

  Everyone gasped as though her words had been sage.

  “Oh, my lady.” Miss Christensen clapped a hand over her chest. “That is an excellent idea. The very best one I’ve heard all day. Don’t you agree?” she asked one of the other girls whose name Everly hadn’t bothered to learn.

  These women were gentry mostly. Some were distant relatives of peers. They were wealthy daughters from the local village and every one of them hoped to receive Everly’s recognition for one reason or another.

  They were truly lovely girls. Everly had no reason not to like them.

  Perhaps, she’d become too jaded. Surfeited by gatherings such as these.

  ‘Let’s go to the florist,” Diana decided.

  The women cheered. They enjoyed outings.

  As did Everly.

  She stood. “I’ll drive my curricle.”

  “Oh, but there is no need,” Miss Parris said. “We’ve enough footmen to take us.”

  Everly lifted a brow. “Unless we wish to take every footman in the house, some of us must drive.”

  “It is better they drive than us,” said Miss Christensen. “Truly, holding the reins can become quite tedious after a while. It is best left to the men. They are stronger, after all.”

  And there is was. The reason Everly could not abide this group. It was not their age or their silly bickering. It was their readiness to allow others to control their lives.

  While Everly worked tirelessly to give women the liberties they lacked, this group abandoned the few they had.

  Diana stood. “I’ll ride with you, cousin.” Then she turned to the others. “The rest of you may ride with footmen.”

  The merry party ran from the room, each going to get their bonnet.

  Diana walked over to Everly and laughed. “You should see your face. You look every bit a headmistress, ready to discipline the naughty.”

  “Diana, tell me these girls aren’t truly your friends.” Everly could simply not bear the thought.

  Diana shook her head. “Everly! Of course, they are, but do not worry. You have taught me everything I know, and Lord Renner knows better than to try and control me. Otherwise, I’ll put Goliath on him.”

>   Goliath was Diana’s great dane. The tan beast was larger than most men but quite loving to those who remained in his lady’s good graces.

  “I am to marry a man who respects my wishes.” Diana’s eyes smiled though her face was set seriously.

  Everly stared at her and then let out a long breath. “Very well.” She did love it when her cousin was happy.

  Diana put an arm through Everly’s and started for the door, grinning the entire way.

  “Oh, Everly, you must relax. I am to be wed in a fortnight,” Diana said once they were on their way. “Now tell me, do you like Lord Renner?”

  Everly smiled at Diana. “He is well settled and comes from a good family, but even more… I like the way he looks at you. It is clear you are both in love. I am very happy for you.”

  Diana tilted her head. “You’re quite romantic, Everly. It is a part of you that few people are aware of.”

  And Everly worked tirelessly to keep it that way. “Well, I think you will suit better with Lord Renner than you would have Lord Stoutner.” Stoutner was a gentleman three times Diana’s age who her brother had favored. Stoutner was wealthy. His first wife had died without giving him an heir and now he was desperate.

  He’d also known Everly’s father, since Everly’s family had always been close to his. She herself had never cared for his presence.

  Diana had wept about the prospect of marrying Stoutner, especially since she was already in love with Lord Renner.

  And so, with Everly’s encouragement, Diana had begged her brother Apollo for her heart’s desire for months.

  And she’d won.

  Everly had never been so proud of her cousin or so glad and so very upset at Apollo.

  Apollo, the current Earl of Ellervear, had spent far too much time with Everly’s father, and thus had picked up many of her father’s traits. Thankfully, Diana’s mother was quite vocal and blessedly, Apollo respected her.

  Everly and Diana’s ages were far apart. Nearly a decade separated them, and yet Everly counted Diana as a dear and true friend. Diana had often come to her with her problems, and though Everly had barely shared any details of her own life, she’d tried her best to be as open as possible with the young woman.