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

by Deborah Wilson

  Diana sighed contentedly. “I cannot wait to be Lady Renner. I promise you, I will be the happiest woman in the world.”

  “It becomes you,” Everly told her honestly. Though she would never marry herself, Everly enjoyed love. She enjoyed seeing it on the faces of others, if only to know that it existed.

  Along with being a patroness of Almack’s, Everly also opened her home three days each week during the Season to women who sought to advance their education, though no one knew.

  The women simply told their families that they’d come to call.

  While other schools taught women simple lessons in singing, language, and needlepoint, Everly encouraged the women to discuss such topics as philosophy, mathematics, and even theology, subjects that men didn’t approve of women learning.

  They liked their women childlike, but Everly knew what they truly meant. Husbands and fathers wanted complete control.

  There were about ten women who came. Many shared details of their personal lives with Everly and, for the most part, she had to say that many of them were happy. Some of the women even blushed when speaking about their husbands. It was at those moments when Everly knew there to be some good men in the world.

  “Lord Renner seems to truly love you, Diana,” Everly said. “I shall hope that never changes.”

  “I can’t imagine why you’ve never married,” Diana suddenly said. “Surely, there was one man in your past who you thought would suit.”

  Everly turned back to the road.

  “You possess quite an allure,” Diana went on. “Even at your age, you’re one of the most beautiful women I know.”

  Everly grinned. “Beauty isn’t everything.”

  “But you have other wonderful traits,” Diana said. “You’re kind, smart, and look at you now. I didn’t have to beg you long for aid with my wedding, and day after day you’ve sat in that room with those women and have yet to throttle one of them.”

  Everly laughed. “You didn’t have to beg, dear. You know I’d do anything for you.”

  Diana leaned her head on Everly’s shoulder. “I know.”

  As they turned around a bend, Everly’s gaze moved beyond the trees to Ayers’ Castle. She was drawn to its majesty.

  “We invited the Curbains to the masquerade. Do you think they’ll come? You know them better than me,” Diana said.

  “Lady Valiant’s husband died, so she is in mourning,” Everly said, thinking about her friend. She would visit if the duke allowed it.

  “Oh, yes,” Diana said. “I recall news of his death from London brought their party to a swift end last year.”

  “Lord Lore and Lady Brinley may come,” Everly said with a grin as she thought about her friend Brinley. “But she’s with child, so who knows how she’ll feel that day.”

  “What about the general?” Diana asked.

  “He is in London,” Everly said. General Hero Curbain had become Secretary of Foreign affairs last year. “But his wife is here and may attend.”

  “And what of the duke?” Diana finally asked.

  Everly chuckled. “He’ll not attend. That, I’m sure of.” He’d never come to any of her masked balls in London. In fact, he never came to any of her events or spoke to her at any of the ones his family invited her to. A woman could only be slighted so many times before she stopped inviting him all together.

  She knew why he didn’t like her. He was a man who liked to control everything, and Everly did not fit into his narrow view of the world.

  “Such a shame,” Diana said. “Abigail has been vying for his attention for years.”

  “Abigail?” Everly asked in dismay. “Miss Christensen? But she is but a girl. Ayers is old enough to be her father.” For years, Everly had thought him old enough to be hers. He’d surely given the impression of a man far older than he truly was, but the eight years that separated them didn’t seem so far anymore. She was thirty-one; he was thirty-nine.

  “He is not so old,” Diana protested. “Abigail likes him.”

  “Well, I suppose there is the attraction of becoming a duchess,” Everly sighed.

  “And the attraction of the man himself,” Diana added. “Abigail finds him quite regal. Handsome even.”

  “Truly?” Everly allowed Asher’s classic expression of disdain to enter her mind. “He’s a haughty bore,” she finally said.

  “Perhaps,” Diana agreed.

  “And high in the instep.”

  “And you are not?” Diana countered with a grin.

  Everly returned the smile. “He’s a very somber man. He’d expect his wife to do whatever he said, without question.” He’d likely cringe if he heard about Everly’s school of higher learning for women.

  “Abigail understands. Do you know why he’s not married?” Diana asked. “You’d know better than anyone.”

  “Why ever would you believe that?”

  “Well, you’re close to the family,” Diana said.

  “I’m close to Lore and Valiant. I don’t speak to the duke.” Mainly because he rarely spoke to her.

  “But could you inquire for her? Speak to him just this once?” Diana asked. “I only wish for Abigail’s happiness.”

  Everly drew up an image of Asher and Abigail together and thought they’d suit. Asher could control her, and Abigail would likely bask in her confinement. “Very well. I shall try and aid her in this pursuit if this is what she truly wants.”

  “Excellent. You truly are the best cousin.” Diana rested her head once again on Everly’s shoulder, and they continued on in that fashion for the remainder of the ride.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 02

  Asher Curbain, the Duke of Ayers, looked up from his ledgers when the sound of shouting echoed through the castle’s corridor.

  He stood.

  His sister Lady Valiant, who’d been sitting across from him, rose as well.

  Their nephew John dangled in her arms.

  “Oh, dear,” Valiant said. “Whatever could be wrong? Here, hold him for me, would you?”

  With a barely a look, Valiant handed the four-month-old boy over and dashed from the room in a flutter of mauve silk.

  Asher looked down at John. The baby’s

  blue eyes fell on the golden top button on his jacket right before his plump fingers reached for it.

  Asher turned him around, placing the child’s back to his chest and then set out toward the noise.

  He found his sister, and his sisters-in-law, Lady Brinley and Lady Beatrix, in the drawing room.

  “I don’t understand. It’s my own money,” Brinley was saying, her face red with anguish.

  Valiant rubbed the woman’s back. “Let us settle down. You don’t want to upset the baby.”

  Asher agreed. The last thing he wanted was for his brother Lore to lose his first child.

  They’d all gathered here a week ago to greet Lore and Brinley on their return from the Continent. They’d been gone for over seven months, the longest Asher had ever gone without seeing his youngest brother. Only to himself did he admit that he’d worried.

  “What’s this about money?” Asher asked.

  Beatrix, John’s mother, came and took John from his arms. “It’s the blacksmith, Mr. Goodman. He won’t allow Brinley to make a purchase without Lore.”

  “Then take Lore with you,” Asher said to Beatrix. Lore was currently working at his own property that was not far from the castle. Asher thought the matter quite settled after that.

  “But it’s a gift for Lore,” Brinley said, settling back into her chair. “I can’t take Lore and then surprise him later.”

  “Then I’ll go with you,” Asher decided readily. He’d been going over Valiant’s ledgers with her. Her husband had died in a tragic fire eight months ago and though the two may have had their differences. he’d willed quite a sum on her in the event of his death. Thankfully, since his sister planned to remain at Ayers’ Castle during the Season, there was truly no rush to get it done.

  Brinley
took a calming breath and met his gaze head on with her own dark one. “That is very kind of you, Your Grace, but do you plan to come with me every time I’d like something to be made?”

  Asher didn’t know Brinley well. He’d been aware of his brother’s true interest in her just weeks before Asher received the letter that announced their hasty wedding and trip to the Continent.

  Lady Brinley Soulden was the eldest daughter of the Earl of Tellock.

  Her sister, Arabella, had married Beatrix’s brother, the Earl of Dalewell, and thus Tellock’s family had been invited to last year’s country party.

  From the beginning, it had appeared that Brinley and Lore had formed some sort of attachment to one another, though Asher would have never guessed it to be love until some weeks later.

  He’d had one conversation with Lore about Brinley. He’d even encouraged his brother to go after her if it would make him happy. But his encouragement had only come after doing his own research into the woman.

  Brinley had helped Lore become focused in a way that Asher had failed to. Now, Lore was hoping to start his own horse-breeding empire, a field his brother knew everything about just from his sheer love of horses.

  Asher was happy for them.

  He wished to keep them happy. “I’ll speak to the blacksmith, if it will please you.” He’d do anything to ensure that Lore and Brinley’s child arrived whole and well.

  Brinley smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Valiant remained home, since she was still in mourning, but Beatrix joined them for the journey into town.

  The town of Ayers was small compared to London or even Bath, but much larger than most villages. A main road, paved with brick, led out toward others. With an ever-growing number of wealthy families, the streets remained busy during the day, which was reason enough for Asher to avoid coming often.

  Everyone stared at his carriage as they passed.

  “What will you say to the blacksmith?” Brinley asked brightly.

  “Or do you just plan to give him one of your most withering stares?” Beatrix added with a grin.

  Every time he was in Lady Beatrix’s company, he learned more about her. The more he learned, the more he was glad that she and his brother Lord Hero had found one another.

  And for very selfish reasons of his own.

  Their son John secured the family line. When Asher died, Hero would become duke and then John, since Asher had no ambitions to remarry.

  John had been named after their eldest brother, who’d died when he’d been a boy. Only Asher had known him, but he was glad that Hero had devised a way for him to be remembered by all.

  John’s passing had damaged a part of Asher’s soul.

  The passing of his first wife had sealed the decision to not entangle himself with anyone else again.

  When the carriage stopped, a footman assisted the women out and then Asher followed.

  The air smelled of iron. The blacksmith’s shop was made of the same stone as the road. A reddish brick with large open windows that allowed the heat from the ovens to escape. Tools of his trade lined the far side of the room, the metal stark against the walls. Firewood sat in a tall hill in the corner.

  Mr. Goodman, the blacksmith, recognized Asher on sight and smiled, but then he saw Brinley and his expression hardened. It seemed a true disagreement had taken place between these two.

  Brinley, who Asher had never known to lower her chin, lifted it higher, becoming quite haughty. “I suppose you’ll allow me to get what I want now.”

  “I see no husband present,” Mr. Goodman said.

  “I’m not leaving until I get what I came for,” Brinley said.

  “Stay as long as you wish, but my answer remains the same,” Goodman replied, right before he turned to the duke. He bowed. “Your Grace. How may I be of service to you?”

  Brinley was turning red.

  Beatrix grabbed her arm and began to whisper what Asher thought were soothing words.

  Asher only hoped this event did not spread through town. Mr. Goodman was well known and respected by nearly everyone around.

  For Brinley’s sake, he thought it best to keep it civil.

  “Mr. Goodman,” Asher began. “Give this lady whatever it is she asked for.”

  Mr. Goodman blinked and then bowed again. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  Asher turned to Brinley. “Purchase what you want.”

  Brinley’s shoulders fell. “Is that all?”

  Asher nodded once. “What else would you have me do?”

  “Make him apologize,” Beatrix said. “He truly upset her.”

  Mr. Goodman began to shift from one foot to the other but kept his shoulders firm.

  “The man was only doing his job,” Asher said.

  “And is his job to make ladies feel small?” a feminine voice asked from the door.

  Asher spun around and nearly groaned at the sight of Lady Everly Wycliff. She was the very last woman Asher wished to see in a situation such as this. Or at all, really.

  “Everly!” Brinley beamed. She and Beatrix rushed to the woman as though it weren’t just a few weeks ago that they’d seen one another.

  “Oh, Everly,” Brinley said. “I should have brought you with me when I came earlier.”

  “Is there a problem?” Everly asked.

  “No problem,” Asher said. “Lady Brinley is just about to make her purchase and then we are leaving.”

  Everly’s golden gaze lifted to his. “Likely not for you, Your Grace. After all, you are not only a duke but a man.” She said the last word as though it were a plague, a disease that had taken hold of him.

  That always bothered Asher, her negative view of men in power. It was not Asher who’d made the laws of their land or the laws of nature even.

  He often wondered if she understood the value of the stronger sex and how men, even the men of his own bloodline, had lived and died to give her everything she possessed.

  He often wanted to teach the woman a lesson on the values of men, but then, where to start?

  She started toward him.

  She wore green today, a striking color that made her red curls seem like living flames. The jade muslin bodice cupped her well-endowed figure to the point of near offering.

  He easily imagined taking her breasts within his palms.

  He cut his gaze away to quiet the growing want inside him, a want that would do neither of them any good.

  She was beautiful and looked nearly a decade younger than she truly was, yet her mind was that of a woman of many years. One clearly set in her ways.

  Asher kept his eyes above the creamy swell of flesh as she neared him and the blacksmith. Her sensual strut had the power to gain the attention of a man on death’s door. He fought the need to take a step away at the last minute.

  “Mr. Goodman,” Everly purred. “I believe I came to you with the order of dull swords for the masquerade next week. It was a grand order, is that correct?”

  “That is correct, my lady,” Mr. Goodman said nervously. “The order is almost complete.” His treatment of Everly was clearly different than that of Brinley. “I can show you—”

  “Well, I cannot abide a man who mistreats women, especially women who are with child. Truly, I cannot bear the thought.” Everly looked down as if to consider her words. “I may have to cancel my order altogether.”

  Asher was shocked at the turn of events.

  As was Goodman. His hands came up. “My lady, please. The order is nearly complete.” And if she didn’t pay, he’d have lost valuable time and thus money. He turned to Asher for aid, which Asher knew to be the very worst thing to do.

  If there was one thing Everly detested, it was having her power taken.

  “I shall get swords elsewhere,” she declared.

  “Wait! No! My lady.” He turned to Asher again.

  And again, it was the wrong decision.

  Everly balled her fists.

  Asher cleared his throat. “Lady Wycliff,
perhaps—”

  Fire blazed in her eyes. “Don’t you dare!”

  Asher should have known better than to step into this battle, but like a fool, he’d done it anyway. He was not afraid of Lady Everly, he simply knew that with a woman like her, there was no winning.

  She spun toward the door.

  “My lady, please,” Mr. Goodman begged.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 03

  “Apologize to Lady Brinley,” Asher demanded.

  The shop went quiet.

  Goodman looked amazed.

  “Lady Wycliff is right,” Asher went on. “You should have treated Lady Brinley with the respect she deserved as a patron of your shop.”

  “But, Your Grace,” Mr. Goodman said. “I was only doing my job.”

  “And now your job is to apologize to the ladies in this room,” Asher said, making it clear he’d allow no further protest.

  Mr. Goodman looked away and then frowned at Brinley. “My sincere apologies.”

  “And you’ll inform the other shop owners that Lady Brinley is allowed to do whatever she wishes with her funds,” Asher continued. “I’ll not hear word of a similar incident again. No one is to make life hard for her. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He turned to Brinley. “What is it that you wished to buy?” He was ready to leave.

  Brinley was beaming brightly at him. “A battle ax in the Norse style, like used by the Vikings. I want an inscription as well.” Rumor had it that Viking blood coursed through the Curbains. Lore’s estate held much of that history. The battle ax was fitting and a good gift.

  Mr. Goodman directed Brinley where she may write her inscription. Beatrix went to help and, as they did so, Asher stepped away.

  Toward Everly.

  She stood like an unyielding centurion at the door with a near military look in her eyes.

  * * *

  “I take it you’ve not changed your mind,” Asher said in a low voice at her side.

  Everly was as startled by his approach as she’d been when he’d taken her side on the matter with Mr. Goodman.

  And now he was speaking directly to her.

  Had she changed her mind?

  No, she would not. “I can get swords elsewhere.”