What Desire Demands, My Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia T. Bennet

  But the thief no longer looked interested in sticking around. He spat to the side, gave her one last disgusted look, and he walked off in the direction of the carriage, no doubt to fetch the reticule she’d mentioned. He sauntered with all the ease in the world as if he hadn’t wounded two servants and a lady and was now leaving them behind to deal with the aftermath.

  Elizabeth tried to memorize the way he walked. She tried to keep in mind the slope of his face and the wicked eyes and the disheveled beard. As Gemma and the coachman crowded her, as their worried questions milled around her head, Elizabeth tried to keep in mind the face of the man who had stolen a piece of William from her.

  But, as she slipped into the darkness, she promised herself that she would not allow him to steal her hope.

  Chapter 1

  “Would you like for me to arrange your hair in your usual style, Lady Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth lifted her gaze to meet Patience’s eyes. They were in their usual tender state. However, their brown color shimmered with a twinge of worry. Elizabeth contemplated forcing a smile onto her face to ease Patience’s mind, but she knew the girl would only see through it. So she shook her head, saying, “It does not matter to me what style I wear tonight.”

  Patience sighed under her breath before she began running her deft fingers through Elizabeth’s blonde hair. Silky, silver-blonde strands tumbled out of her hold, falling down to Elizabeth’s shoulders before it was picked back up again. Patience often did that before she began styling her hair and Elizabeth liked the way her fingers felt on her scalp.

  “I had hoped that you would be excited about today,” Patience said.

  Elizabeth met her eyes again. “You tend to hope for useless things, Patience.”

  “Yes, I suppose you are correct,” Patience agreed with a sigh. “I had hoped you would break your fast this morning, but you stubbornly remained in your bed without caring to come out from under the covers. I had hoped you would at least open the windows to let in a bit of fresh air but you only stared blankly at the ceiling as if you have lost all your will to go on.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t in much of a mood to appreciate Patience’s worry. “Oh, how dramatic.”

  “I do not think I am the one being dramatic,” Patience went on. Now, she was twisting Elizabeth’s hair to the top of her head, picking up pins from the vanity table. Patience was only twenty years old and yet she spoke as if she had all the wisdom of a woman who’d seen the world. It didn’t help that her russet hair—that would often slip from her chignon—softened her features and made her seem much younger than she actually was.

  “I think,” Patience went on, “It does you no good to wallow.”

  “Heavens,” Elizabeth murmured. “I did not think I would be subject to such nagging from someone who did not give birth to me.”

  At that, Patience laughed. She had a penchant for diving headfirst into each emotion she felt without remorse. Within seconds, Patience could switch from annoyance, to happiness, to anger, to despair. It was what had drawn Elizabeth to her in the first place, when she’d first been assigned as Elizabeth’s lady’s maid two years ago following Gemma’s retirement. Gemma had left to care for her grandchildren and the current maid had filled the role gloriously.

  “Are you not pleased to have such a woman as myself caring for you?” Patience sighed, putting her hands on her hips, shaking her head as if to say, “What am I to do with you?”

  Elizabeth had the strength to smile this time. “Yes, I could not hope for anything better.”

  She nodded decisively. “I am happy to hear that. Now, will you cheer up for the rest of the evening?”

  Looking at her through the looking glass, Elizabeth widened her smile, the falseness of it practically blinding. Patience only shook her head again, more serious this time.

  “You cannot blame me feeling this way, Patience,” Elizabeth sighed. It was all she could do not to declare she was ill and crawl back into her bed. “Not today of all days…”

  Patience nodded, her eyes growing tender once again. “I understand.”

  No one could truly understand, Elizabeth knew. Patience hadn’t been there that day. Gemma had still been her lady’s maid, and even though she’d stayed by her side after the ordeal, even Gemma couldn’t begin to grasp how Elizabeth’s heart had been broken all over again when she’d lost that ring.

  Five years. It had been five years since then. Five years of being fine on the surface, while always feeling as if something was missing from her life. Five years of watching herself become a spinster. Five years of her continuing search for William and always falling short. That day had brought such hope and such pain in one fell swoop. And to this moment, Elizabeth could not forgive herself for how timidly she’d handled everything.

  Had she stood up for herself, had she been bold and brave like Gemma, perhaps that man would not have dared to rob her.

  Patience had only been here for two of those years. They’d grown so close in that time that Elizabeth knew Patience only wished for her ultimate happiness. But no one would understand how she’d lost a piece of herself that day.

  “If it is any consolation to you, Lady Elizabeth,” came Patience’s voice through her growing sorrow, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

  Elizabeth smiled, her unconscious reaction to such a compliment even though she didn’t feel it. Taken at face value, she might have some charm to her appearance. But underneath the sleeves and the shawls she constantly wore were thick, puffy scars that marred whatever beauty remained. The scars seemed to have cut straight to her core, to have stolen the last bit of herself she had left. Day by day, and especially when the phantom pain flared, she was reminded of how foolish, useless, and broken she was.

  So, she would always wear gloves to hide the scratches on her knuckles, wrist, and the scar on her upper arm. She would always wear a shawl to keep the scar on her left collarbone from showing. And though her gown hid the one on her side, it was a constant reminder of that terrible day. Her father’s best physicians could not have prevented the scarring no matter what they did, simply because of how her skin reacted. Instead of fading to a thin white line as they’d expected, they had flared and grown.

  Every time Elizabeth thought about it, her gut twisted. It was partly the reason why she did not want to think about marriage, because she couldn’t imagine showing such insecurities any other soul.

  To change the topic, Elizabeth said, “I wonder what he is like.”

  Patience frowned a little. Her wariness was understandably considering Elizabeth had not been very happy about returning to London for the Season in the first place.

  “You do?” Patience asked incredulously, watching Elizabeth come to a stand.

  She didn’t, but talking about it helped her forget that fateful day. “I have never met him, you know,” she went on, as she approached the door of her bedchamber, Patience on her heels. “Do you think he will be handsome?”

  “I am unsure.” Patience still sounded a bit wary. Elizabeth had spent the past few days so dreading this dinner that to hear her talk about it now was certainly unusual. “Considering the speed at which everything happened, I would not be surprised if that hadn’t been taken into account during the arrangements.”

  “I hope that he is,” Elizabeth lied. She didn’t care, but delving into this conversation might make her forget about the scars. At least, for a while. “It might make this entire ordeal easier to deal with.”

  Patience hung her head dramatically. “Why do I doubt your words?”

  “Because you know me better than anyone else in this house,” Elizabeth responded without hesitation. That was the truth.

  Patience took her hand. In that moment, their respective statuses fell away. They were no longer a lady and her maid but a friend caring for another. “I understand the position you are in, but it does not mean this gentleman is the one you are meant to be with.”

  After so many years, my true love has yet to appea
r so who then am I meant to be with?

  “Then shall I say that to my betrothed tonight?” Elizabeth asked, but her jest fell flat. “Shall I let him know that my heart has belonged to another nearly all my life?”

  “Not unless you are hoping for your father to collapse from shock,” Patience teased. Elizabeth giggled at that.

  Patience always knew how to make her feel better. Since she’d received the news of her forced betrothal, only a month after returning to London, Elizabeth had been quite depressed. She knew her father only wanted to ensure she would be taken care of once he was gone, especially considering her dowry and inheritance was not very substantial and a decent match would certainly aid in Elizabeth’s future comfort. But Patience had stayed by her side, encouraging her to continue her search on one front while making sure she did not alarm her father on the other.

  “Only one evening,” Patience said again, returning her hand to her side as they continued down the hall. “Then, you can express your concerns to Lord Gillet once again.”

  “I doubt that will do much to change anything.” Her father lived in constant regret that he’d sat by and allowed Elizabeth to become a spinster, which was what had driven him to make this decision in the first place. No amount of arguing had changed his mind before today, so she doubted it would do much afterwards.

  But Elizabeth liked to cling to hope. It was what kept her going all these years. So she did so now, continuing along to the parlor.

  Patience left her side when they arrived at the parlor, to be replaced by the butler, Andrew. He opened the door for her, stepped to the side, and allowed her to enter. Elizabeth saw her father first, smiling brightly at the person to his left. Then, the large ornately decorated parlor came into full view—the sideboard crowded by gentlemen already indulging in pre-dinner drinks, the ladies Elizabeth did not care to know, who were already whispering about her—and…her betrothed.

  “Ah, there she is,” came her father, Harold Parsons, the Earl of Gillet. He swept a large hand to Elizabeth as she approached the cream-colored armchair where her father sat. Though she’d prefer not to, Elizabeth curtsied appropriately to a few of the guests nearby, her eyes barely meeting any of theirs. As pleasantries were exchanged, conversation struck up once again and the room was filled with chatter.

  “My Lord,” Lord Gillet said to the man sitting next to him, his voice tinged with excitement. Her father shared Elizabeth’s silvery blond hair and brown eyes, though they were far more expressive than hers. He’d always been one to be taken by his eagerness, a happy-go-lucky sort that usually put Elizabeth in a good mood. Tonight, it did not. “I am pleased to introduce to you my daughter, Lady Elizabeth. Elizabeth, please greet your betrothed, James, the Earl of Horenwall.”

  Lord Horenwall was a vision. He had a smooth, pretty face, unshaven and clean. His blond hair was worn Brutus-style, his eyes a sparkling brown. She could even see small freckles on his cheeks, which only made him seem warm and approachable. Not to mention the fact that he was quite tall, with a slender stature. He bowed, giving her an easy smile. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “The pleasure is mine, My Lord,” Elizabeth said with a graceful curtsy. After that, she finally sank onto the chaise lounge, folding her hands in her lap. She was in no mood for drinking tonight and only wanted this to be over with.

  “At long last,” the Earl boomed with a broad grin, “you two meet. I’d feared it would not happen until much closer to the wedding date.”

  Since the day her father had told her of his acceptance of Lord Horenwall’s proposal, she’d been dreading this day. Apparently, Lord Horenwall had taken notice of her at a small soiree her father had forced her to attend a few weeks prior, when the Viscount had finally put his foot down about her lacking approach to her unmarried state. Elizabeth hadn’t danced with a single person that evening, so she’d been surprised to learn of the fact that she had not only been given a proposal, but it had been accepted on her behalf before she even had a chance to learn the name of this gentleman.

  “You must forgive me, My Lord,” Lord Horenwall spoke up. He had quite a nice voice but Elizabeth didn’t care. She tried not to play with the ends of her gloves too much. “Had I not been hindered by other inescapable matters, I would have visited much earlier.”

  “It is nothing to apologize for, My Lord,” her father said. “A busy man is a good man, after all. It eases my heart to know my dear Elizabeth will be in good hands.”

  Elizabeth paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to see her father sipping happily on his brandy. Her father had a tendency to say the first thing that came to his mind, which she’d always found rather refreshing. A part of her wished Lord Horenwall would not appreciate the insinuation he’d just made.

  This night needs to be over.

  She was already weary of it, and if she didn’t stop herself, she might end up saying something she might regret.

  Only a few hours, Elizabeth. You can do this.

  But the Earl laughed. “Then you have no cause for worry, My Lord. I assure you that she will be. And I must say, I am quite pleased to be in the presence of such beauty.”

  Elizabeth dutifully smiled at him. “You flatter me, My Lord.”

  “How can I not?” Lord Horenwall went on. “Your beauty truly knows no bounds. I had heard as much but it is far greater than I could have ever expected.”

  “Is that all you have heard, My Lord?” Elizabeth asked before she could stop herself. She saw when her father looked sharply at her and she instantly regretted the words.

  Lord Horenwall’s dark blond brows dipped into a frown. “I am afraid I do not understand the question.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her smile false against her teeth. “Oh, pardon me. Since it has been a while since I’d been out amongst the ton, I am only curious to know if I have been the subject of any recent gossip. Now that I hear my question aloud, I realized how foolish it is.”

  “I have been telling Elizabeth that it might be a nice change of pace if she were to attend more balls this Season,” her father picked up easily. “But she tells me she is only comfortable in much smaller gatherings.”

  Her father shot her a discreet look she recognized quickly. It was clear he didn’t appreciate her mention of recent gossip, which had been surrounding her marriage-less state as of late. He wanted no mention of her coming spinsterhood nor her age, nothing that might make the Earl rethink this betrothal. “She is, however, quite reserved.”

  “Is that so?” Lord Horenwall seemed unaware of the direction the conversation had nearly gone in. “Then what do you say we all attend Lady Trenchton’s ball? I will be by your side, My Lady, so you do not have to worry about being alone. Not to mention that I am quite sought after by the ladies this Season, so it will certainly make you the subject of envy. Is that not what every lady wants?”

  That is quite funny because I want the very opposite. But she didn’t dare to say those words aloud.

  “Oh, no, that is quite all right, My Lord,” Elizabeth protested weakly but he was already shaking his head.

  “I insist. Lady Trenchton is quite famous for her themed balls, though I do not yet know what the theme will be this year. I encourage you and Lord Gillet to attend for I am sure you will both enjoy yourselves. Perhaps others will see how much better you shine when you are by my side.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t tell if he was jesting. Surely, he had to be but…

  She knew, without having to look at her father, that he was already considering the invitation. Another protest lay on the tip of her tongue, but what was the use? Ever since he’d announced that she would soon be married, Lord Gillet had been quite stubborn in changing his mind. Like a bull, he was charging in headfirst and Elizabeth didn’t think she had the strength to stop him.

  She could hardly blame him, however. For many years he stood by, hoping she would take the initiative. She’d neglected to tell him that she was saving herself fo
r someone else because she knew he would not understand. While he’d known William when they were younger, too many years had passed and Elizabeth was clearly the only one who still clung to the past.

  So, Lord Gillet nodded his head, approved loudly, and Elizabeth concentrated on eating. Even though it was in her nature to be kind, and she knew that Lord Horenwall was not to blame for this, she couldn’t bring herself to speak anymore. She let her father take the reins, to make the Earl comfortable while Elizabeth tried not to be rude.

  For the rest of the night, she couldn’t stop the sadness and dread that pooled in the pit of her stomach. And she couldn’t stop thinking about William, wishing she could find him at long last.

  Chapter 2

  The next few days were spent with Elizabeth in a focused state. It came upon her the night of the dinner party, when she’d returned to her bedchamber to retire for the night. She’d laid in bed thinking about the past, about the scars that marred her body, about the ring she’d lost, and the man whom she was meant to marry. Instead of growing sad under the weight of it all, Elizabeth grew more determined to find William.