My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1)

by Julie Johnstone

“Harthorne, let me try to explain―” Colin started then abruptly stopped himself. How could he explain to Amelia’s brother why he had risked her reputation and kissed her in the library for anyone to walk in and see them when he wasn’t sure himself what was possessing him?

  Harthorne stopped his pacing and faced Colin. “Do you want to win or lose this wager?” he demanded.

  “I don’t want to win under the terms we set, and I damn sure don’t want you to win and see Amelia marry Worthington.”

  “Would it be fair to say you hope Amelia proves your beliefs about women incorrect?”

  Colin tensed. Was it fair to say that? Amelia’s faced filled his head, her laughter his heart, and thoughts of her kindness, her wittiness, her smell, the very way she moved occupied his every thought every minute of every day. Breathing seemed suddenly difficult.

  “Your observation is fair,” he choked out. Though hope was not an emotion he typically allowed himself, it was there. Because of her. Fear sprung up in his belly, jagged and painful.

  Harthorne shook his head. “Normally, what I think I just came upon would have been the end of our friendship, Aversley. You are like a brother to me, but you are not my brother. Amelia is my sister, and her best interest takes precedence over any friendship, no matter how deep it runs. If I didn’t see the utter confusion and fear on your face I would call you out, but I do see it. You are not changing her, my friend. She is changing you. Exactly as I had hoped when you suggested the absurd bet in the first place.”

  “Just as you had hoped?” Colin stared in amazed wonder as Harthorne nodded.

  “You duped me?”

  Harthorne grinned. “Don’t sound so surprised. I have always thought if you could straighten out your muddled head that you would be the only man for my sister. She needs a strong man who wants a strong woman as a wife. Now, the sooner you accept that―and the fact that you are changing―and be damned glad for it, the better. Until then, keep your hands off my sister. Do we understand each other?”

  “We do,” Colin replied, still struggling to believe that honest-to-a-fault Harthorne had lied straight to his face and so surprisingly well.

  “Excellent,” Harthorne said. “Let’s return to the ball.”

  Colin did not have to be asked twice. He was out the door and striding down the hall in a breath. Amelia was changing him. Softening him. Making him long for things he had never allowed himself to believe possible. The question in his mind was, could he be the man he knew she wanted―a man who would give his whole heart? And if he somehow miraculously could, would she even want the tarnished, tattered thing that it was?

  Amelia descended the stairs in Lady Langley’s home the next morning with her stomach turning in circles. She loved Colin, but he may never love her. Or if he did come to love her, with all the pain in his past, he may never accept or recognize his love. For him, it was a weakness. Still, she could be his wife, his duchess. It would simply take pretending she had changed, and therefore make her brother lose the wager, but that was no way to have a marriage of love and trust.

  As she neared the bottom of the stairs, the strong, sweet scent of flowers filled the air. Amelia walked into the foyer and stopped, amazed at the sight before her. On every available table were rather large arrangements of flowers that she strangely did not recognize the classification of. They flourished out of beautiful vases that looked to be cut of fine crystal and made the room appear as if washed in white, except for the center table where four other arrangements of various bright flowers sat. Amelia wrinkled her brow. Lady Langley certainly had a love for flowers.

  Her stomach growled; she had dawdled long enough. Turning toward the breakfast room, she almost ran into her sponsor. The woman was leaning against a wall, an amused smile pulling at her lips. She swept her hand out toward the flower-filled room. “What do you think?”

  “I had no idea you loved flowers so much,” Amelia said, avoiding a direct comment on the overabundance of them.

  Lady Langley laughed. “I don’t actually care for flowers all that much. They tend to make me sneeze.”

  “Then I don’t understand,” Amelia said slowly. “Why did you fill your entranceway with them?”

  “My dear, I didn’t!” Lady Langley exclaimed. “These arrangements are for you. From your admirers.”

  “Me?” Amelia could not have been more surprised if Lady Langley had told her that King George himself was sitting in the drawing room waiting to see her.

  “Yes, dear. They started arriving an hour ago. The ones in the center, the colorful ones, were first. All the rest”―Lady Langley swept her hand toward the white flowers―“arrived at the same time, from one gentleman. I must confess I’m dying to know who! The florist would not say, and I did not want to take the liberty of reading your cards.” Lady Langley, standing by the largest arrangement of white flowers, reached over and plucked the cream-colored card from the placeholder. She smiled at Amelia. “I did, however, make sure to place this flower arrangement right here, so you could find the card and read it.” She walked over to Amelia and handed her the card. Unable to imagine who would spend so much money sending the dozens of flowers, Amelia tore into the card. Bold handwriting flowed across the paper.

  It was a pleasure to meet you in the park yesterday, though much too short and crowded for my liking. I intend to call this afternoon, but sent these flowers as a precursor to show you I’m not as bad as Aversley likely told you I am. I picked these flowers because they are exquisite, like you.

  Scarsdale

  With burning cheeks, Amelia handed the note to Lady Langley.

  After a moment, Colin’s aunt glanced up, an intense expression on her face. “This could be very good and very bad.”

  “Please explain,” Amelia murmured.

  “Aversley and Scarsdale have no love lost between them. I don’t know all the details, but it started years ago when the boys were much younger. Fifteen, I believe. Or was it fourteen?” Lady Langley waved her hand. “I don’t suppose one year matters. One of those years they had a terrible fight at Aversley’s annual birthday celebration that ended in fisticuffs and Scarsdale leaving abruptly. After that, from all I could gather by eavesdropping, mind you―” she flashed a cheeky grin “―they didn’t speak for years, though I do know Scarsdale tried and failed to make amends for whatever Aversley thought the man had done. I have it on excellent authority that everything exploded between them one night when Scarsdale happened to be at White’s. I do believe a great deal of liquor was involved.”

  Lady Langley paused.

  “What happened that night?”

  “Scarsdale kept trying to talk to Aversley who finally snarled that he’d talk to Scarsdale the day the man gained the notice of a woman named Lady Victoria. She was a beautiful debutante known far and wide to be quite virtuous.”

  Amelia’s throat felt suddenly very dry, remembering the exchange of words between Colin and the Duke of Scarsdale. She could only imagine what the dark gentleman with the flowing black coat was capable of. “And did the Duke of Scarsdale ever gain her notice?”

  A pained look crossed Lady Langley’s face. “He did. And then after several weeks of courting her, he abducted her and set off to Gretna Green. By the time her father tracked them down, her reputation was ruined, but strangely, her father did not demand Scarsdale marry her. She married a much older man, a family friend of her father’s, I think.”

  “Colin was livid with himself for ever saying such a careless thing. He never imagined she would give Scarsdale any notice, so he assumed the lady was safe. I don’t believe he has spoken more than once to Scarsdale since then, but I could be wrong,” she said with a shrug. “Colin will likely be enraged when he finds out Scarsdale has turned his interest to you. He’ll think the duke is merely doing it to best him.”

  “I think you’re quite right.”

  Lady Langley smiled knowingly. “It’s quite perfect in a strange way. No other man would likely induce Colin to examine
how he really feels than Scarsdale would. But you must proceed with caution. Neither of those two gentlemen are ones to be trifled with, but Scarsdale does not seem to have the same care for limits and honor as Aversley does. If he thinks there’s the slightest chance of besting Aversley, I don’t doubt you’d find yourself thrown over his shoulder and riding hell bent toward Gretna Green.”

  “I’m not sure I should encourage the Duke of Scarsdale,” Amelia said, as a knock resounded on the door and male voices floated in the air from around the corner.

  Before Lady Langley could respond, her butler appeared with Charles following behind him. “Lord Worthington, whatever are you doing here?” Amelia asked, realizing belatedly how rude she sounded. “I’m terribly sorry,” she added. “I’m just surprised to see you.” After last night.

  He furrowed his brow. “Why? I told you I was coming.”

  That was true. And she’d not actually had the opportunity to tell him not to bother. She heaved a sigh and glanced at Lady Langley. The woman gestured to the hall. “Why don’t the two of you talk privately in the drawing room? I’ll send Lucy in to chaperone,” she said, giving Charles a narrow-eyed look that made Amelia want to laugh.

  Amelia nodded and led Charles to the drawing room. Before she had time to settle on the brocade settee, Lucy scampered into the room and offered a curtsy and a curious glance at Charles. “If it suits you, Lady Amelia, I’ll sit over there in the window box and work on my embroidery.”

  “That’s perfect, Lucy.” She gazed at Charles and motioned to the chair opposite her. “Why don’t you sit so we can talk?”

  Charles shot a look at the empty space on the settee beside her and scowled. “Very well,” he grumbled. “Though, I’d prefer to sit by you.”

  She thought it best not to mention that she preferred not.

  After he sat, he leaned toward her. “I don’t have much time this morning. I’ve agreed to go riding with some other gentlemen, but I wanted to come and offer to marry you. I have not been able to get you out of my mind, despite the fact that I wanted to.”

  “How flattering,” she said, allowing her ire to resound in her tone.

  “Don’t be tedious, Amelia. You are not at all the sort of woman I imagined marrying. Your family is not well-off by any means, and you’re too outspoken by half, but we can fix that.”

  “It’s good to know I can be fixed,” she said through clenched teeth.

  A crease appeared between Charles’s brows as if he might have actually sprouted some sense and understood he was being an ass, but his shrug took that hope away. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if she―she―were the one being annoying.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “I previously thought you rather graceless, but you’ve blossomed. Still”―he eyed her critically―“I had thought to marry for greater wealth, but I have recently been left a comfortable sum from a distant relative, which brings me to my point. Exactly how big is your dowry?”

  That was his point! She almost slapped him. Her hand tingled with the desire to do so. This was a far cry from the romantic marriage proposal she had been dreaming of all these years since Charles had rescued her on that horse. How could any man who had risked his life to save her be such a shallow, cold fool? She stilled. “Charles, do you remember the day years ago when―”

  “You saved my life,” he inserted with a rueful grin.

  Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. “I saved you?”

  Charles nodded. “Well, yes, of course. Though I don’t go around telling people of it, nor do I want you to remind anyone who was there about it. But I haven’t forgotten how your horse spooked mine. I was on a new stallion―”

  “Luther,” Amelia inserted, remembering the black stallion well.

  “Yes, Luther. He never did learn to listen properly. I did everything in my power not to get him to follow your horse, but the blasted beast would not heed me. Before I knew it, I was racing through the forest with the sun in my eyes. I could not see a thing. But I heard you yell for me to duck. I likely would have been dead if not for you. I was livid with you for weeks.”

  Amelia blinked. “You were? Why?”

  “Well, your horse, of course. If you’d been handling him properly I would have never been embarrassed that way.”

  Amelia had the sudden insane urge to laugh at just how wrong she had been about that day. She tapped her fingers against her chin for a moment as she thought. “Do you remember how you made everyone stop calling me Tree Trunk?”

  He grinned. “Of course. You were so pitiful, like a wounded puppy. I felt sorry for you, and it made me look weak to stand by and let everyone pick on you.”

  Constance had been correct on both accounts. Amelia sighed, not bothering to mention he had called her graceful. She did not need to hear how sorry for her he felt again. “I cannot marry you, Charles.”

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “You are not at all the sort of man I imagined marrying,” she said, greatly enjoying using his cruel words from moments before back on him. “I think you ought to go now.”

  His brow came together as his eyes narrowed. “Exactly what sort of man did you imagine marrying?”

  Amelia rose, hoping he would do the same. Glancing down at him, she said, “One I love and who loves me in return.”

  Charles stood and towered over her, glaring. “Would this Romeo happen to be a duke?”

  She was not about to tell Charles her heart’s secrets, but she would not lie, either. “It’s none of your business.”

  Charles blew out a derisive breath. “You disappoint me, Amelia. If you care more about a title than a good gentleman to be your husband, the least you could do is be honest and say so.”

  Anger flared in her chest. “I care nothing about titles, Charles, no matter what you might think. Now, I insist you leave.”

  Without a word to her, Charles stormed out of the room, and she sank onto the settee with a ragged sigh. If she could not convince Charles she cared nothing for Colin’s title how was she ever going to persuade Colin of the truth when he was so jaded?

  Since Colin was arriving at his aunt’s house well before the acceptable calling hour, he was astonished to see Worthington striding out the front door as Colin’s carriage pulled up to the home. He quickly descended his carriage and met Worthington at the bottom step.

  His one time friend stopped and glared at Colin. “Perfect timing, as always, Aversley.”

  “I’ve no idea what you mean,” Colin drawled, glancing past Worthington toward the house. Had Amelia just agreed to marry Worthington? Sharp hollowness filled him.

  Worthington snorted. “You know exactly what I mean. First you stole Lady Eleanor from me―”

  “I did not steal her from you,” Colin said, between clenched teeth. “Let us set the facts to rights regarding her. I had no idea you cared for Lady Eleanor. You had never said a word about her, and I am not a bloody mind reader. When I realized you did care for her, I ended our affair immediately, but she already had another fellow to fill her bed.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t want to believe me, but it is true. The gentleman had been in her bed, without my knowledge, before I ended things. She was after a high place in Society, and unfortunately, you could not offer her what she wanted. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the nature of women.”

  “Something we finally agree on,” Worthington snarled.

  Colin relaxed somewhat. “Who else do you think I have stolen from you?”

  “Amelia,” Worthington said bluntly. “I asked her to marry me moments ago, and she turned me down.”

  “And she told you it was because of me?” Colin asked, struggling to keep the astonishment from his voice and the hope squashed down.

  “She said she wants love, but that’s a lie. I offered her love, and she threw it back in my face.”

  “Maybe she does not love you,” Colin said evenly, the hope despite all his efforts, growing
.

  “Of course she doesn’t,” Worthington roared. “I’m not a bloody duke.”

  “Did she say that precisely?” Colin asked as Worthington stomped toward his carriage. But Worthington did not look back. Within seconds, his carriage was pulling away from the house.

  Colin turned and started up the steps, his heart thudding hard. Had Amelia just caused Philip to lose the wager, or did her heart now belong to him? Was he a fool to consider such a thing?

  The door opened before he got to it, and the butler ushered him into the foyer and departed to announce his arrival. An overwhelming floral scent assaulted him. Colin glanced around at all the flowers in the room and paused. Who the devil would send lily of the valley’s? He strolled to the open card lying on the table and plucked it up and read the note.

  Exquisite, was she? Scarsdale had no bloody right to tell Amelia she was exquisite.

  Anger as hot as he’d felt the night Colin had seen his mother’s bedchamber door open and heard her soft laughter as she allowed Scarsdale into the room curled in his belly and lit him on fire. He threw the card on the table and stormed toward where he heard his aunt’s and Amelia’s voices coming from. As he turned down the hall toward the parlor, Amelia was there, resplendent in the ice blue day dress he had helped her pick out to transform her. Had he accomplished his goal? His anger deepened and stoked the flame of discontent.

  He inclined his head. “Lady Amelia, Aunt Jane.”

  His aunt walked past Amelia and patted his arm. “Good to see you, Aversley. If you’ll excuse me, though? I’ve the worst megrim coming on.”

  Colin nodded. “Likely caused by the choking floral scent filling the air,” he commented dryly.

  Amelia’s gaze came sharply to him, but she said nothing. His aunt, however, chuckled. “Yes, well, perhaps. Lady Amelia has gained several admirers in her short time here in London, it seems.”

  “I see. And who might these admirers be?” Colin asked, as if the did not already know one of them.