The Hazardous Gamble of the Alluring Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  “I care naught for that,” Dahlia declared stoutly. “But I haven’t said yes either.”

  “Second,” the Duke smiled then continued, “eventually my creditors will realize that the marriage is not going to bring the funds for which they hope. Fortunately, the estate cannot be sold or parceled out. I am making efforts to turn the tide of my fortunes, and I am thinking fondly on your scheme of expanding the home sheep flocks. I have sold some of my horses to satisfy my immediate creditors, and I am turning my hand to other matters. Still, if these do not turn out as planned, I could find myself extremely embarrassed by spring.”

  “That’s where I come in,” Aaron said. “I do seem to have a head for business. I shall be your advisor and investor. But what is this third thing?”

  “I am enchanted with your sister. I declared to my man, Herbert, when first I saw her that it was a shame that beauty and fortune were unlikely to come in one package. On that day, I had some foolish notion of marrying an heiress to repair my fortunes. Over the last few days, I have realized what a shallow, unfeeling endeavor such thing might be. I would pay court to her with the hope that she might consent to be wed to me. And I would gladly do it, even if she had not so much as a farthing nor more than the gown she stands up in at this moment.”

  “Which looks as if it has been handed down from mistress to maid,” Mrs. Garrity put in.

  “I am sitting right here,” Dahlia grumbled. “And that was the idea. How could I go into service looking as if I were a member of the peerage?”

  Aaron gave a snort of laughter, and Mrs. Garrity folded her lips together to repress a smile, waving her handkerchief by way of applause.

  “Forgive me, My Lady, you did say I could speak frankly. What I fear is that if I propose to you today, no matter what your answer might be, in the long run I could lose you.”

  “As you have not yet proposed, and I have not yet answered, the question is begged, Your Grace,” Dahlia said, blushing beet red from her rude fichu to her fair hair. If I say yes, will I have to face giving him up?

  The Duke reached across the corner of the table for her hands, “Lady Dahlia, knowing that although I am a Duke, my fortunes have run aground, knowing that I am an indifferent player at all matters of chance, and that I have a poor head for business, nonetheless I hold you in high esteem. Would you consent to bestow upon me your hand in marriage? I promise to be guided by your wishes in this matter and that I will endeavor to help you no matter what answer you give.”

  Dahlia looked up into the Duke of Shelthom’s earnest face. How can I do this to him? Then she looked at her brother. “This is a monstrous imposition upon the Duke’s goodwill.”

  Aaron shrugged. “You could always create a scandal so that the Earl of Goldstone would not want you. Your being here in the Duke’s house tonight is a fair start on that. But as you say, it is really Father’s business interests and your property the Earl wants to marry.”

  “Your Grace, you do know that this is not fair to you,” Dahlia then said to the Duke.

  “I am willing to deal with that inequality, Lady Dahlia. It might be equally well said that it is not fair to you, either. But I do hope to be a presentable suitor.” He had that odd expression on his face again, the one that Dahlia could not quite identify.

  “Your Grace, is your intent for marriage based upon your estimate of my worth? If we find that we do not deal well with each other, may we dissolve this engagement without acrimony?” Dahlia gripped his fingers tightly. Her face was pale save for a bright spot of color on each cheek.

  “I promise that I will abide by your wishes in all things, Lady Dahlia. As to your worth, you are to me the nonesuch, and the non pareil. Will you please do me the honor of becoming engaged to be married to me?”

  Dahlia was amazed by the real emotion she heard behind the simple words. It was a magnificent proposal, far better than the cold signing of papers she was likely to experience with Goldstone.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Dahlia said, “I will consent to be engaged to you. I will add that I have come to hold you in high regard and hope to continue to do so.” She squeezed his fingers a little more tightly, as if they were a lifeline and she was trying to keep from drowning.

  “You should post it in the papers first thing in the morning,” said Aunt Garrity. “That should keep her father from rescinding the agreement.”

  “Now,” Aaron said, “Since she is supposed to be locked in her room, we must find a way to return her there before she is found out.”

  “No one noticed in all this time?” Dahlia stared at her brother, incredulous.

  “You have loyal friends, Sister of mine,” her brother said. “Your maid, Suzanne, and Miss Emma have put it about that you are having a nervous prostration or at the very least have come down with an extreme fit of the vapors. Our father is exceedingly wroth that you did not appear at dinner, but is inclined to be lenient. Especially since he and Goldstone have had their heads together over some new business venture.”

  “Oh, dear,” Dahlia fretted. “They could be turned off without commendation if Father learns that they have done this.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Since he was the one who had you locked in, he can scarcely suppose you would accept your fate tamely. I am merely surprised that he did not realize how foreign nervous prostration or vapors are to your character.”

  “Our father,” Dahlia noted, still keeping a close grip on the Duke’s fingers, “has never taken great notice of his daughters save that we presented a neat, respectable appearance.”

  “I do not believe he has ever watched you play ball in the park, then,” commented the Duke, with a twinkle in his eye. “Still, we have one problem yet to solve. How do we get you back into your room without arousing attention?”

  “Oh, as to that,” Dahlia shrugged. “I’ll simply go back in the way I came out.”

  “Which was?” Aaron prompted.

  “Through the attic storage entrance.”

  Her brother, Aaron gave a shout of laughter. “Our old hide and seek playground.”

  “Perhaps, Your Grace, you and my brother can provide a suitable distraction at the front of the house.” Dahlia smiled up at the Duke winsomely and squeezed his fingers.

  The Duke of Shelthom smiled back, and gently curled his large hands around her small ones. “I did promise to help in any way I can,” he replied tenderly.

  Dahlia saw in his eyes a hope that this engagement might be something more than mere convenience. Could this be how love begins? Will we be able to win past my father and his obsession with Lord Goldstone?

  She fiercely hoped their desperate plan would work.

  Chapter 16

  The Duke of Cottleroy’s townhouse was quiet when Roger’s carriage pulled in the drive. He had adamantly refused to allow Lady Dahlia to walk back in the growing dark. Bringing her back in the curricle was out of the question, so he, Lord Bochil and Herbert had concocted the excuse that the strawberry roan mares were lamed, and that it was necessary to bring out the carriage for the evening.

  Although young Lord Bochil had proposed that the two of them enter the house as if they had been out to a huge party, Roger had put a spoke in the wheel of that idea. “There are very few parties, since most of the Ton are taking the waters or visiting the seaside,” he pointed out. “And it would be sadly out of character for you, Lord Bochil.”

  “True enough,” Lord Bochil conceded.

  The two had calmly entered the front door, apologized to the Duke of Cottleroy who was lingering over his brandy with Lord Goldstone, and had gone on up to Lord Bochil’s personal sitting room to discuss business, as the son explained to his father.

  Meanwhile, Herbert and the coachman had taken the carriage around to the stables and made a great business of checking the horses’ hooves while Lady Dahlia had slipped in the loading door and up through the attics, aided by a dark lantern loaned to her by the Duke.

  Roger waved aside Lord Bochil’s offer of brandy. “I coul
d ring for tea?” Lord Bochil suggested.

  “No, no,” Roger demurred. “It would bring servants into this hall, which is the last thing we want. I am fine. I shall not perish of thirst while we wait.”

  Lord Bochil nodded. “She has always been adventurous. She was the one who planned our games and who wheedled our father into allowing her to walk in Green Park. Pray, I beg you, do not fetter her, sir.”

  “Fetter her? Oh, far from it!” Roger declared. “She is the first Lady I have met in the last two years who did not either fawn on me rendering false condolences or cut a wheedle because I could bring her a title. More than that, she is brave, protective, beautiful, innocent, and …”

  “Enough! Enough,” Lord Bochil held up his hands in mock defense, “She is my sister, after all. You will find she has faults, sir, and that she is not above cutting a wheedle now and then.”

  “I doubt it not. Roger smiled. “But when she does, it will not be for a new pair of gloves or a pair of diamond earrings.”

  “That much you can count on,” Lord Bochil returned.

  Just then there came a scratching at the door. When Lord Bochil opened it, a young footman stood there. “Begging your pardon, My Lord, Lady Dahlia’s maid, Suzanne, sends word that the Lady has consented to taste a little porridge and take a sup of posset. She believes that her indisposition is likely to be over after a little sleep. She also sends you this note.”

  “Thank you, Jemmy,” Lord Bochil said. “I am glad that she is feeling better.”

  “Will there be a reply, My Lord?” the footman asked.

  “No reply for now. I’ll go and see her myself if needs be.” Lord Bochil gently dismissed the footman.

  As it turned out, there were really two notes. The outer one was to Lord Bochil. It said simply, “Pray, do not forget me. And thank you for rescuing me, I think. Your loving sister, Dahlia.”

  Within it was a note for Roger. “Your Grace,” it began, “Have a care, because I do not believe that a certain lord will accept defeat easily. I hold you in great esteem. I would find it a great boon if you were to call upon me tomorrow. With Fond Regards, Lady Dahlia.”

  Roger smiled at the little missive with fondness, then folded the note carefully and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. “Ah, Lord Bochil, I do hope that this hasty engagement will not prevent an eventual marriage. Your sister …”

  “Enough, Duke, enough.” Lord Bochil held up his hands in mock defense. “Had I not thought that you held her in high regard, I would not have proposed it.”

  “It is my hopes to put my affairs in order that I might be somewhat worthy of her,” Roger said, pressing his fingers against his pocket, gently crinkling the note.

  “Have I not said that I am more than happy to be of service to you in that regard, Your Grace?”

  “You have, Lord Bochil,” Roger said gravely, “And I honor you for it. But what I next say to you must remain in strictest confidence. You might be in a position to assist me in quite a different way from the manner you have proposed.”

  “Say on.” Lord Bochil sat in a chair and gestured for the Duke to take another. “I am listening.”

  Now invited to speak, Roger found himself momentarily at a loss for words. “You are aware,” he said slowly, “that I was a captain in the army.”

  “Indeed, I am. It is common knowledge, along with the tragedy that called you home.”

  “Well. So.” Roger laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together, trying to think how to go on. “An old friend from my army days came to me. He asked my help in solving a matter that is of some moment. It seems that Lloyds has been paying out a great deal of money over the last two years for lost ships.”

  “Two years? It might be a cold trail to hunt, now, Duke Shelthom.”

  “Indeed, Lord Bochil, quite so. During the time when I might have been making contacts that would now be useful, I was scarcely myself.”

  “That is completely understandable. The loss of our mother, the late Duchess of Cottleroy, was a severe blow to my sisters and me. We still had our father, and we were blessed with Miss Emma, our governess who was guide, unofficial guardian and a loving presence in our lives. It would seem you had no one.”

  “Be as that may, Lord Bochil, I fiddled and Rome burned, so to speak. Two years have passed, and I am woefully out of touch with the London ton, for I made it my business to avoid society as much as I could.”

  “I am unsure how much help I will be,” Lord Bochil said slowly, “You must understand, sir, that much of that time I have been away at school.”

  “Well-a-day.” Roger thoughtfully considered his next words. “Such help as you are able to give will be appreciated. I do realize that your time is short, for you did say that you would soon be returning to Oxford.”

  “Indeed, but I might take a leave of absence. Under the current circumstances, I fear for my sister.”

  “And well you might. Hear me out, and then we shall go on from there.”

  Lord Bochil nodded, showing that he understood.

  “I am told,” Roger went on, “That the ships that go down are insured by Lloyds.”

  “An estimable assurance company, I believe,” Lord Bochil observed.

  “Of course,” Roger continued, “estimable, honorable, and reliable; but not without rivals or enemies. It seems that in the last two years, while I have been running from sorrow, that some new assurance company, has sponsored many ships that have successfully crossed the channel, while more than half of those sponsored by Lloyds have run aground, had their cargoes spoiled or simply gone completely missing.”

  “Good God! Does this mean that this rival assurance company has stooped to sabotage or perhaps even piracy?”

  “It is the belief of my old commander that such is the case. I have hesitated in confiding in you because of your youth. But my hope is that perhaps you might be privy to a different sort of rumor than those that come my way.”

  “I’m not often in the way of hearing about assurances, Duke. Most of my wool is sold right here in London to the mills along the Thames. One day, perhaps, I might expand across the channel.”

  “My friend is of the opinion that someone among the peerage is involved. I would not have you put yourself in the least danger, but if you should hear anything, I would be glad of the information, Lord Bochil.”

  “Of course, I will be glad to pass along any information. But would you not have friends with greater opportunity to gain information?”

  “Had my brother, Leonard lived he would probably have had such contacts. Remember, I was the second son and my life’s career has been in the military. While I do have some friends in the peerage, I am better known to the men who have been on the continent.”

  Lord Bochil seemed to consider that for a few minutes. “Yes, well, I can see where that might be a problem. I am not often in London during the season, but sons do talk about their fathers’ businesses betimes. I will pass along anything I hear.”

  “I am grateful. Meanwhile the hour grows late, and I have an announcement to post in the morning. I will then call upon Lady Dahlia.”

  “That might not be entirely wise,” Lord Bochil said, “Father has not yet officially released her from her rooms. Instead, come to dinner as my guest. I will make you most welcome.”

  “I do, indeed, thank you, Lord Bochil. I accept your invitation. Please, give my best to your sister in the morning and let her know that I will see her as soon as might be arranged.”

  Lord Bochil saw Roger out, not ringing for the butler or footman. They talked amiably of horses, dogs and sheep as they sauntered down the hall.

  As he stepped into his carriage, Roger found it hard to leave the Cottleroy townhouse. Was I right to counsel her to return here? Will an engagement be enough to keep her safe? Will publishing our banns put her in greater danger?

  Chapter 17

  Dahlia woke with a feeling of hope.

  Me, affianced to a Duke!

  And such a duk
e as she had never dreamed could be found anywhere. She had long since resigned herself to becoming and old maid or to being auctioned off to fulfill her father’s financial schemes. Now, even her aborted effort at running away seemed like a child’s plan, although it had at least gotten her out of her rooms for the day.

  She flung back her covers and rummaged in her closet for something to wear, not waiting to ring for Suzanne. Such a scene it had been when she returned! Suzanne had insisted on helping her wash the attic dust out of her hair, while Miss Emma had hovered over her.

  At length, she was clean, gowned in a fresh chemise and ready for bed. Only then was she able to pen a quick note to her brother and to the Duke of Shelthom. She then curled up in her bed, and for the first time in several days fell into dreamless sleep.