“Good!” Lady Emma shot back. “She’s not deserving of you. But I am.” She tried to reach for him again. “And I am destined to be your wife.”
“You’re destined to be nothing!” North snapped. He pushed Lady Emma away and strode towards the door, flinging it open to see Wilson hovering just outside the door. “Wilson, Lady Emma was just leaving. Make sure her things are back on her carriage, will you?”
“It’s already done, Your Grace.”
“Good.” North turned back to Lady Emma, who hadn’t moved. “I don’t want to see you again, Lady Emma. And anyone who was involved with this charade are to keep away from me for the unforeseeable future. You tell them that and then get out of my life.”
“You can’t do this to me!” Emma wailed. “You can’t!”
“I can and I am.” Seeing she wasn’t going to leave, North left the room himself. “Good day, Lady Emma.”
Now all he needed to do was get Isabella Eliot to meet him. They really needed to talk.
***
Isabella was confused. Wilson had sent her a note saying it was important that they meet, and he had some news. What news? Was it about the duke? Isabella didn’t want to know.
But she couldn’t turn Wilson down. He had been very kind to her as had Mrs. Wilson. And it had been a while since she had seen the kindly old man.
So, Isabella slipped out of the house and headed down to the park. Wilson had suggested meeting in a secluded spot by the river, under an awning of trees. Isabella knew where he meant; it was a beautiful place she had spent with North. The first time they had seen each other after bumping into each other outside the hat shop.
Isabella forced the man from her mind. She had made her choice as had he. They had to go their separate ways.
Wilson wasn’t there when Isabella arrived, which was unusual; he was a very punctual man. Isabella paced around, aware that people were going to find her and think the worst. She needed to get this over with and get home before she was missed.
“Belle.”
Isabella spun around. Her heart almost stopped when she saw North walking towards her. He looked as fresh-faced as he had the first time they met, even wearing the coat from that day. A carnation was in his buttonhole, just as it had been on their first encounter.
What was he doing here? And what was he trying to achieve?
“What are you doing here?”
“Forgive me for doing it this way, but I asked Wilson to help me send a message to you.” North stopped before her but he didn’t come close. He didn’t reach for her although his body was tensed up. “I had to speak to you, but I knew you wouldn’t want the same.”
“You would be right about that,” Isabella said coldly. “I told you I didn’t want to speak to you again.”
“And why is that?” North challenged. His eyes glinted. “Because I forgot that I’d promised to marry you upon my return? That I’d made that promise along with the gift of a pendant?”
He indicated the pendant, still around Isabella’s neck. But Isabella was staring at him, realization dawning.
“You remember?”
“Yes, I remember now. The pendant triggered something.” North looked ashamed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to get Wilson to tell me the truth as nobody else would. But when he did, it all came back to me. I knew what I’d done. How I met you. How I rejected Lady Emma and promised you marriage.” He swallowed. “I loved you, Belle. And I still do.”
He still loved her. Isabella didn’t know what to say. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and never let go. But her pride stopped her.
“Don’t think this will change anything,” she declared.
“I hope it will.” North reached out and took her hands. Isabella didn’t pull away. His fingers were so warm, so familiar. She had missed it. “What happened between us since my return was unfortunate, but I know the truth now. I’ve called off the wedding to Lady Emma because I knew why I said I would never marry her. I didn’t love her. Nowhere near that.” He smiled and brushed a thumb across her jaw. “When I marry it will be to the woman who stole my heart with a hat pin she accidentally prodded into my chest when I walked into her.”
He remembered that. Isabella could see it. That had been a small thing, but it was significant. North was clear on that now. And he looked desperate to have her close.
“Please, Belle, just tell me you still love me.” He briefly closed his eyes and looked down. “If you don’t and you mean it, I’ll walk away and leave you alone for good. But I have to hear it from you.”
That put Isabella into a state of panic. In spite of everything over the last few months, she still loved him. She didn’t want him to go. Nudging North’s chin up with her fingers, she clasped the pendant in her hand.
“This has always been around my neck because I could never take it off. I tried to forget you and what had happened between us, thinking it was for the best, but I couldn’t. Because my heart went with you when you went abroad.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I still love you, Maurice.”
North let out a relieved sigh and gathered her into his arms. Isabella gladly tilted her head up and accepted his kiss, running her fingers through his hair. She didn’t want to let go, not now. From the grip on her, North didn’t want to let go, either.
He finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. Isabella could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest.
“Thank God.” His voice was raspy. “I never thought I’d hear you call me Maurice again.”
“North sounds better.” Isabella giggled.
“That’s a fair point.” Maurice kissed her again. “But I don’t want to talk names right now. Unless it’s about turning Eliot into Barrett and Miss into Duchess.”
Isabella smiled.
“I think that sounds like a very good idea.”
*** The End ***
The Duke’s
Dramatic
Deception
Regency Romance
Grace Fletcher
Chapter 1
The Duke’s
Dilemma
M oonlight engulfed the London streets as another lavish evening infiltrated lives of the ton. Carriages halted outside the Theatre-Royal, as women in expensive gowns, accompanied by men dressed smartly, stepped down. Glimmering blots of the candle-lit chandeliers, delicious rue of golden-brown champagne in glass goblets, and the vivid colors of the interior captured Edward Croft's, Duke of Norfolk, intense gaze as he stepped through the ostentatious entrance.
In front of him, a young lady stood resting her waist against the mantelpiece. She was dressed impeccably in a deep-blue dress, her mahogany hair pinned up. Quite beautiful, her skin glinted under the light of the hall. Norfolk smiled smugly, looking forward to having her as his company.
“Perhaps you’d care for some company?” He asked her, his voice confident, offering his arm.
Trusting his charm abilities, he knew she wouldn’t refuse. Crimson flooded the girl’s cheeks as he gave her his best smile. Embarrassed by her reaction, yet unable to speak, she simply took his arm and together they sauntered into the theatre to take their seats.
The Theatre-Royal was well-known for its outstanding productions of Shakespearean plays. Casting only the best actors and actresses and providing extensive training before they would appear on stage. The audience that they received was well-read and quite fond of literature. Tonight, they presented ‘Romeo and Juliet’, the eternal love saga. Having taken up his father’s love of poetry and his interest in English prose, the duke looked forward to tonight’s rendition.
As the audience settled down, the play commenced. Romeo stepped onto the stage as the first act started. Norfolk recognized the actor from previous plays, ‘Othello’ and ‘Antony and Cleopatra.’ He was an exceptional performer, mastering dialogue delivery and body language.
Duke Norfolk, unlike other people, not only watched but also evaluated and analyzed the performance. A gasp esc
aped his companion’s mouth as Juliet gracefully glided across the marble floor. She exhibited perfection in its true essence. A rarity. He watched as she delivered her lines in a soft voice. He had never seen this actress before, perhaps she was on stage for the first time. Regardless, the Duke was captivated by her performance.
“By God, Heaven and Hell collide if I ever have seen anything more beautiful than Juliet on stage.” He spoke, forgetting his lady companion.
At this ill-timed remark, the young lady gazed at him angrily. She was evidently embarrassed by his praise for another woman.
“Oh, these women don’t know virtue, flaunting themselves on stage. It’s only looks and money for the lot of them.” She said, irritated.
The duke rolled his eyes, ignoring her. He was too bewitched by the beauty in front of him on stage. Soon, too soon for Norfolk, the play ended. The audience gave a round of applause and began to disperse. The duke escorted the lady on his arm outside and kissed her cheek. He didn’t intend to court her, having his eyes set on the exquisite ‘Juliet.’
Norfolk stood outside the theatre, puffing tobacco hoping for the actress to come out soon. He blew the smoke, and through it he saw emerge a lady in a rich, rust-shaded silk gown. Her dark hair shone under the pale light, dull in comparison to the glow of her skin. Before the duke could rearrange his thoughts, enraptured as he was, she was gone. Her carriage racing down the road.
Chapter 2
Choices to Make
S ick is the word that flooded Jemima’s mind, as she wondered how she was feeling. Simply sick. The baleful spell of poverty that had befallen her life, enslaving her in shackles, had made her cross horrible extents for survival. Jemima, who was woman of faith, now wore immoral dresses and acted, to make ends meet. Shame was her only ally, vulnerability her enemy. This was not the life she had sought for herself, but precious Aunt Lucy’s illness left her no choice. Each night, she’d return, calling it her last. Each morning she’d look at her frail aunt and leave determined to earn more than yesterday. Living was not easy; all her earnings were spent in medicines and some in her bills. She worked hard, but misery worked harder at devouring her.
She turned the key and walked into her small house. Aunt Lucy lay on her bed, too weak to walk. Jemima checked on her aunt, gave her medicines, and after putting her to sleep went to bed herself. She changed into her bed dress and got on her knees to pray. She folded her arms and closed her eyes.
“Lord, you are our Shepherd, in you we trust. Please give me the strength to wake another day, please guide me to fight another day.” She prayed, tears falling.
***
Jemima woke to a knock on the front door. She got up and wrapped shawl around herself before answering.
“Aye?” She asked.
The man in front of her, a messenger, carried a letter. He gave a light bow, and handed her the letter, waiting for her reply.
Jemima rarely received correspondence, except bills and outstanding bill notices. The letter in her hand was neither of those. The parchment was expensive, and the writing was fancy and unknown to her. She started reading,
Dear Miss Jemima Devine,
I cordially invite you to be my guest tonight, at my estate, for dinner. If you choose to accept, I will have my carriage sent to collect you.
Looking forward to your company,
Norfolk.
Jemima felt confused, she had never met the duke and was unaware of his existence. However, he was an important man, and she didn’t want to upset him. It was likely that he had attended her performance last night.
“Please tell the duke, I’ll be there. Thank him for the invitation.” Jemima told the messenger as she curtsied.
***
Norfolk waited eagerly for Miss Devine to arrive. He had contacted the Theatre-Royal and with his influence it wasn’t hard to get her details. He’d sent his messenger to her house, along with an invitation to dinner. She had accepted, as he knew she would, and was due any time.
He planned on presenting a proposition to Miss Devine, one that would benefit them both. If she agreed that is. He required a companion, she required a strong financial income. The duke had done his homework before inviting her to dinner. He had made his move.
As the carriage drew in on the avenue, Norfolk felt his nerves kicking in. Was a duke of his importance making a mistake, getting involved in this? It would be quite a scandal if revealed.
There was a light knock on the parlor door.
He turned as the butler, Brenham, announced the guest.
“Miss Devine, His Grace the Duke of Norfolk.” He gave a bow before moving to the side. There she stood.
Miss Jemima Devine wore a burgundy evening dress, v-shaped bodice, and a fuller skirt. Her silhouette was no less than an angel's. Her mahogany hair was pinned up elegantly. She walked in, taking off her satin gloves and handing them to the butler.
She gave a small curtsy as the duke took her hand, kissing it lightly.
“A pleasure, Miss Devine.” He said.
“All mine, Duke Norfolk.” She said, “It’s very kind of you to invite me into your home. I hope it wasn’t trouble.”
“No trouble at all, Miss.” He told her, leading her towards the seating.
They made small talk, and the steward entered the parlor.
“Dinner is served, Your Grace. Miss.” He informed, exiting.
As they sat down to eat at opposite ends of the long wicker table, they were served soup.
“You were remarkable as Juliet.”
Jemima blushed, the duke was a very handsome man.
“You’re too kind, Your Grace.” Jemima thanked him.
“Please, call me Norfolk.” The duke offered.
A few minutes passed, and the footmen served them their main course. Quail and vegetables, with a cranberry sauce. The food was exceptional, no doubt, cooked by one of the finest chefs in Britain. Jemima was used to invites by her admirers, so far this had been the fanciest experience she had had. The surrounding interior was regal, and the Duke was a fine gentleman, respectable and humble.
These thoughts would soon diminish as the duke decided to discuss his proposition.
“It has come to my attention that you are a woman of means, Miss Devine.” He started, taking an unexpected turn, “Yet, you are working very hard to make ends meet.”
This did not surprise Jemima. She was sure the messenger boy must’ve told the duke about her living situation. Little did she know, Norfolk knew a lot more.
“A girl finds a way.” She said, taking a bite of the delicious food.
“Yes, and that is remarkable. However, with an ill aunt it must get harder sometimes.”
The blood drained from Jemima’s face, he seemed to be quite well informed.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Norfolk, please.” He smiled, before continuing. “I have a proposal for you, and I think you’ll benefit from it.”
Her face hardened. She was not here to be bought, yet, politeness taking over, she listened.
“My case is very simple. Very much like you, I too have a great aunt, very dear to me. And similar to your aunt, she lies on her deathbed. I’m sure if your aunt made a last request of you, you would oblige. Thinking about it from that perspective, I present you her last wish. To see me married and settled.”
Jemima was very confused, having no clue what Norfolk wanted.
“This time next week, I’ll be visiting her. She expects I’ll be there with my beautiful young wife. That is where you come in. I require you, if you agree, to pose as my beloved, so that she can see me settled. Time is short, and love is absent from my life. I do not wish to upset my aunt on her deathbed.”
Jemima felt appalled, marriage was a sacred act. How could she face God if she mocked it? The duke took her interruption as consideration and continued,
“You need not worry about dressing and attires. You will be provided with the best gowns and jewels. Your job would be to act, and I am well awa
re you excel at it. In return for this, I will provide you a sufficient amount of money, enough to pay off debt, ail your aunt and spend a good few years.”
“With all due respect, Your Grace, I will have to refuse.” She informed him, keeping her composure.
“Pardon?” Norfolk thought he misheard her.
“I may be an immoral woman in society, but I will not sacrifice my values for any amount of money. Marriage is a holy act, and I will not belittle it.” Jemima told him, her voice wavering from emotion.
Norfolk felt a surge of respect for the lady in front of him. How wrong he had been to assume she’d grab this opportunity to earn money. He would not persist but would give her time to reconsider.
“I must say I am surprised and sorry to hear that, yet, I do insist that you give it some thought.”
The subject was put aside, and they finished dinner. Jemima didn’t stay long afterwards and took her leave.
“Thank you for having me, Duke Norfolk.” She said.
“Norfolk please, and the pleasure was mine, Miss Devine.” He smiled warmly, hoping he’d see her soon.
Jemima Devine left the mansion, with no intention to return.
What waited at home would force her to reconsider.
***
Norfolk thought of the enigma that was Jemima as he smoked tobacco in his room. She had refused his offer, a woman of honor. This wasn’t going to be easy, nonetheless, Norfolk knew all business propositions take time before prospering.
Chapter 3
Contemplation
J emima slammed the door behind her as she entered her house. Tears stinging her eyes, she ran to her aunt’s bed. She fell on her knees and began to sob.
“Dear Child, what’s the matter?” Aunt Lucy gasped, trying to get up.
“No Auntie, I-my heart just aches.”
“My lovely, what upsets you?” Aunt Lucy asked, unable to do much in her frail state. “It’s me, isn’t it? I am a burden that imposes itself on you.”
Regency Romances for the Ages Page 34