The Duke's Second Chance: Clean Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 1)

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  “Yes, and I’m particularly pleased because as you know, I should have listened to you in the first place but since I didn’t I was rather tied to her in marriage. And when I met my son.” He tipped his head back. “It’s been so long I didn’t tell you. I met. My. Son.” His eyes shone with moisture now and she couldn’t breathe for the beautiful image of a father in love with his son.

  “I’m so happy for you. Is he as handsome as—” She gasped. “Oh my. What I mean to say…” She laughed at his raised eyebrows. “Well, alright. Is he as handsome as his father?” She wanted to hide behind the nearest pillar, sure her cheeks were flaming as red as they felt hot.

  “I believe he has surpassed me already. And I must tell you, for you have become the person I tell all the very private emotional dealings of my heart. He looks like his mother.”

  She swallowed. Did he hear himself? What was he saying to her? “Camilla?” she bit her cheek, “I mean, the duchess?”

  “Yes, and I didn’t want to see it. I was afraid. I admit it. I was afraid of..” He swallowed twice, and Amelia wished to change the subject to spare him the telling.

  “Of the pain.” She understood.

  He nodded and stretched his neck against his cravat. Then cleared his throat twice before continuing. “And obviously I’m still aching like my heart might fall out of my chest. But. He rotated his shoulders under her hand and she was amazed at the power there, the rippling of the muscles through his jacket. “But when I saw her nose, and the set of her lips on my own son, I could only smile. Grateful” He exhaled in one long slow breath. “There, that was more difficult to get out than I thought it would be.”

  She pressed her fingers into his shoulder, applying more pressure there. “I’m so incredibly happy for you. On all counts. Things are looking up. And might I say, it’s perfectly acceptable to be afraid, sad, or happy. For that is how we are made.”

  He was quiet for a long time as they glided across the floor. And then he said. “I think I fear happiness most of all.”

  Her own eyes misted. “Yes. That’s a long-lived fear in me.”

  He searched her face. Their eyes communicating understanding and words that would never need to be spoken. Then he surprised her and spun her around, double beat to the waltz.

  She laughed louder than she meant to and then gasped. “Oh, you’re an excellent dancer.”

  “And so are you.” He pulled her closer than even the waltz allowed. “And might I know how you come to be so accomplished, so well spoken, such a comfortable dance partner, knowing the waltz no less, and fitting so well here in a London society ball?”

  She shrugged. “My mother.” Then laughed. “But I have half a mind to remind ye I ken mop up the floors almost as well.”

  His laugh made her grin. “And do you dance with the broom?”

  She looked away. “Perhaps.”

  “So how do I compare?”

  “With a broom?”

  “Well, yes, I assume it was your most common dance partner?”

  “It was not my only dance partner and I will admit you compare very favorably.”

  “To your other partners?”

  “To my broom.”

  “Ha ha!” He looked around and she noticed almost every eye on them. “Shall we take a stroll outside in the gardens?”

  “Dare we?”

  “I always dare.”

  She lifted her chin. “Then I do as well. Do you think my grandparents will approve?”

  “Of you spending time with a duke?” His eyebrow rose like only a completely confident duke’s could.

  She shrugged. “Then let’s go.”

  He placed her hand on his arm and practically ran as he led her from the room. They raced out to the verandah and then down the stairs and out in the well-lit gardens. Many other couples were walking slowly along the paths. That relieved Amelia somewhat, not wanting to create scandal at her very first appearance in society. She and the duke would not be alone. But they could speak in private, and she enjoyed that thought most of all.

  They meandered along in comfortable silence for a moment, the smell of roses filling the air around them, making her smile and breathe deeply.

  “You like roses.”

  Pleased he’d noticed, she nodded. “I do. And these are particularly lovely.” The arbors, marking entrances to smaller gardens carried cascading flowers of all different colors. The night air felt cool on her skin that was unaccountably warm in the duke’s presence. The stars twinkled far above, and the moon and candles and torches lit the area. She’d not seen anywhere quite so magical ever, and she recognized she was in danger of being swept away by her reaction to it all and by the handsome man at her side. Who, she tried to remind herself, was not interested in her or anyone right now. He sought her company as a good sounding board, a person wholly unrelated to him whom he could confide in. She caught his eyes, reflecting the flickering light from a torch, smiling at her, and she knew, she was in danger in deed.

  He searched her face and then looked away. “I thought it wouldn’t matter if I remained engaged forever. I was no longer looking for a wife, Lady Rochester well and truly cured me of that desire…” He turned to her with questioning eyes. “But now I don’t know…”

  “Are you asking if you should be seeking a wife?”

  “No, well, perhaps. I don’t know. I don’t trust myself to know any more. I thought for certain that marriage to a woman like Lady Rochester would take away all my cares.” He grimaced. “I’ve never been so wrong, but you, you were right, and Lord Morley, he was right too. Before Camilla died, I never had reason to question my own judgment always relying on it like an old friend, but now, I don’t know.” He stopped. When she looked up into his face, she noticed how surprisingly close he stood. And she found it hard to breathe, particularly difficult to think.

  “What is it you want to know?”

  He stepped closer, and her heart raced. Would she be able to answer him at all? She didn’t know.

  “I wonder if perhaps my idea of finding a wife might not have been so bad afterall, if I found the right woman.” He lifted a hand to brush the hair out of her face, leaving a trail of sensations along her skin she’d never felt before. She couldn’t breathe. Everything around them went silent and the longer she looked into his eyes, the further away from reality she drifted. The duke, marriage..then her thoughts stuttered. Marriage. He had just lost his wife six months past. He was in no position to fall in love.

  He stepped back. “Forgive me. My thoughts drifted to places they should not go at the moment.” His pause was more a question than a silence, his eyebrows raised. “Should they?”

  She forced herself to make a noise, cleared her throat. “Perhaps, someday, our thoughts could go places?” What had she just said! Words were exiting her lips without any thought involved. She needed to run, or walk, or crawl away from this man, return to her grandparents and dance with more accessible, reasonable choices.

  “Do you think that we might, converse, now and then?”

  “I’d enjoy that.”

  “Would your father or your grandfather like to talk about my intentions? I am very much engaged. I want to make certain I am clear of any other obligations naturally. If such a thing would be possible.”

  A thrill coursed through her and a smile grew on her face before she could stop it. “I’m certain that both would like to have that conversation when you are ready.”

  He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. “I don’t know much of anything right now. I don’t trust my judgement or my heart, but I find the thought of time with you brings a certain peace and stability I only find with Morley. And he’s not as pleasing to look upon, and he lacks a certain appeal, and he’ll be getting married sometime. I hope for his own happiness.

  “I didn’t think I could ever really hope for a continued relationship with you, but when I saw you here, dancing, looking more beautiful than any other woman in the room, something changed inside
and instead of feeling hopelessly lonely, a tiny door opened the inkling of a thought that maybe one day, I could be happy again, that I could enjoy a new relationship, not like the one I had with Camille but a new one that fills the deep loneliness with something, and offers a family and a mother for my son.” He took a breath and then his eyes filled with alarm. He stepped back.

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t believe I said all of that. Are, are you well?”

  “I-I hardly know.”

  “Again, I apologize. I’m in no position to be talking about anything at all. I’m betrothed to another.”

  She reached for him and rested a hand on his arm. “I’m happy you did.”

  “And would you, could you be amendable to talks?” He waved his hands in front of his face. “Just talks.”

  “Always.”

  He nodded. “Talks. Excellent.”

  “Should we return inside?”

  “Yes, let’s return you to your grandparents. And might I plan to call on you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.” Could a person marry someone other than their soul match and still be happy? She imagined so for some, but at this moment, walking on the arm of the Duke of Granbury, she knew down to her toes, she could be happy with no one else.

  13

  The duke hurried through his ministrations with the valet. He impatiently swatted away the man’s extra efforts on his cravat and then hurried out the door, calling to the staff that he would not need the carriage.

  They were to meet at the tea shop, which, though very close, seemed impossibly far this afternoon. Every step took a thousand moments. His feet couldn’t move fast enough. And Gerald needed to see Miss Amelia. He’d thought of nothing else since his dance with her. He hadn’t been so fixated on another person since…He couldn’t think it, couldn’t say the name in his mind. Such a strong feeling of betrayal filled him he wasn’t sure. Could he feel, interest, in another? Was he allowed that bit of hope?

  He stepped up to the door and to his surprise, the shop was full, not a corner free for anyone, not for him especially. Unfortunately many eyes in the room turned to him, standing with his face peering in the door window.

  Nothing for it but to step inside. The chatter hushed and many hopeful female eyes turned to look at him. Dash it all, where were the men?

  Then a pair of eyes and a large smile at the back peered up over the heads of everyone else. Lord Morley.

  “Praise be,” He muttered as he made his way to the back, most of the ladies, tittered and giggled and fanned their faces at him.

  Then to his left an evil laugh twisted inside him in a painful wrench and before he could turn his head, the sound of a tea cup crashing to the ground made him wince. “How dare you dump tea on me, pick that up. We’ll not come if we are to be stained by the help.”

  Gerald turned to see Amelia stooping at the feat of Lady Pallin, picking up shards of ceramic from the floor, tea staining her own skirts. He hurried to peer around the corner and saw what he hoped was waiting for him. A broom.

  “Allow me?” He held the broom out.

  Several gasps echoed in the room and Amelia shook her head. “Oh no. Your Grace. Let me.” While they worked, she murmured. “Father needed help. When I got here, this crowd was too much for him and the assistant.” Her eyes shone with gratitude, but he knew she was mortified at his actions.

  “I insist. If you’ll show me how it’s done?”

  The rest of the shop stared in amazement while the two of them cleaned up the tea service that had been broken all over the floor. Then they carried the pieces to the back.

  As soon as they rounded the corner, Amelia whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “I cannot abide those women. How can they possibly think themselves above someone like you?”

  Her face turned bright red and she tried to hide her smile before she said. “But I need friends. Lady friends, or I’ll never make it.”

  “I don’t see how that signifies at all. As if you need the likes of them. We’ll find you the sort of friends you need.”

  She eyed him as though he’d said something strange but she did not respond. Instead, she curtseyed and made to return to the main tea room.

  “Wait, what are you doing?”

  “My job.” Her eyes were full of challenge. “Or have you forgotten that I am a shopkeeper’s daughter. I serve the likes of those women every day.”

  “But you don’t have to, your grandparents…”

  “Cannot erase my parentage. Who, might I add, I am immensely proud of.”

  She placed a hand on his sleeve. “My father needs help, but I see how this might prevent my having a, shall we say, advantageous alliance or even friendship?”

  “Friendship, no, Miss Amelia…”

  She shook her head and hurried back to the tea room main room.

  The duke was left to mumble after her, “I’ll see you later tonight to talk more about that.”

  He left the tea shop with Lord Morley. His friend eyed him with the strangest expression and then he said, “What precisely are you doing, pursuing the shopkeeper’s daughter?”

  “That’s not all she is—and I don’t know. I find I have a desperate need to talk to her. And be near her. It’s the strangest thing. For all this while I miss Camilla like I would miss my arm, my leg, half my heart. Yet this Miss Amelia seems to hold a place as well. I think. I don’t even know.”

  “I think you better figure it out before you leap into any more rash decisions. And while you’re at it, figure out what you plan to do about Lady Rochester. You cannot possibly think to stay engaged to her forever.”

  “I would not be able to bear it.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I hardly know.” He laughed, half-heartedly, but I’ll tell you the first person I wish to consult?”

  “Miss Amelia.”

  “Precisely. And that knowledge tells me something.”

  “Then I say you do so.”

  “You could come.”

  “What, while you woo the shopkeepers’ daughter?”

  “Those aren’t the words I would use, but, yes.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Tonight after closing.”

  “Perhaps that would be better, to keep things on the up and up, now that I know she’s the Baron Smithson’s granddaughter.”

  “She’s who?”

  “The very one. And looks even more amazing in a ballgown.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “You do?”

  “Certainly.”

  When the duke narrowed his eyes, he added, “perhaps not so far as imagining her in a ballgown, just that she’s lovely. And would be lovelier still dressed up for a ball?”

  “Ah yes, precisely that.”

  They spent the early evening hours together and then made their way back to the tea shop just after closing.

  “Come, let’s help her clean up.”

  “What has come over you? As if you know how to clean anything.”

  “It cannot be that difficult.”

  They stepped inside the shop, and Miss Amelia waved them in her face coloring in an enchanting manner. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  A knock at the door startled them both. A rider entered and bowed. “The Duke of Granbury?”

  “Yes, here.”

  “Express from Miss Standish of Gayhurst cottage.”

  “My tenants. Outside of Brighton.” He took it and paid the rider. “Please wait a moment in case a response is required.” He broke the seal and skimmed the contents. Then gripped his friend’s arm. “This changes everything.” He clutched the letter in his hand. “I must be away.”

  He ran for the door, determined to be on his horse now.

  “Dash it all, Gerald. Wait. What is this about?” Lord Morley’s voice faded away as Gerald ran down the streets towards his home.

  …

  Amelia watched two of the most eligible men in the
ton run as though chased by a ghost down the street and away from her store. As soon as they were out of sight, she slumped against the table. A day to return to serving in the shop to help her father had turned into the most tiresome of any in her recent past. Never had she resented serving the ladies of the ton as much as she had today, never had they been so cruel.

  She didn’t understand much of anything right then, but she clung to some of her strongest thoughts. The experiment to attempt to present her as a member of the upper classes in London was not going to work. Unfortunately, her unexplainable closeness to the Duke of Granbury was only complicating matters. And she didn’t know if her tea shop would survive this new bout of persecution. For the first time ever, she didn’t know if she wanted it to. As yet, her father was unaware of the negativity but she couldn’t bear to let him find out. Perhaps it was time to move out, to their house in the country.

  14

  Gerald and Lord Morley rode through the night and holed up in a nearby Inn. When their valets had left them for the night, Lord Morley shook his head. “And you’re saying she’s been seeing the footman?”

  “For many years. Apparently, all through her previous marriage. They fell in love or some other such thing, and there you have it.”

  “And what do you plan to do about it?”

  “Confront her. Explain her options.”

  Morley held his hand out in question. “Which are?”

  “Well the way I see it, I need her to back away from this engagement.”

  “You think she’ll agree to do so.”

  “It’s likely, when confronted with the alternative which includes making all and sundry aware of her indiscretions.”

  Morley’s grin started slow and then grew. “Seems a persuasive motivation.”

  “I’m confident she will see things my way.”

  “How did you come to know the details?”

  “This family of daughters. They are my new tenants. Have we discussed them?”

  “No.” Morley frowned. “What have they to do with this?”

  “I asked them to keep an eye on things for me, and they have apparently, remarkably well. They’re quite plucky, all of them. I think you’ll enjoy meeting them.”