The Duke's Bride: Regency Romance (Regency Brides Book 1)

by Joanne Wadsworth

  “The duke seems rather intent on keeping you in his sight tonight.”

  “The coward and cheat.” She muttered the words under her breath. Good grief. She should have considered that Ashten might find another way to discover who her suitor might be, rather than by leaving his house to attend this ball. Hackles raised, she smiled sweetly at her brother. “I believe the duke is simply viewing the merriment taking place here tonight. You surely haven’t forgotten how he chose to woo Lady Ashley rather than me on his return from the war?”

  “True, although I doubt he ever would have actually gone through with asking for Lady Ashley’s hand, not when you kept drawing his attention.” He settled one hand on her shoulder, his palm warm and his touch comforting, just as it always was. “Hear me out, if you will, Ellie.”

  “Of course.”

  “My belief,” he murmured, keeping his words between the two of them, “is that Ashten would have eventually come to his senses and paid a call on you.”

  Her brother had to be delusional. “Winterly, Ashten has never once asked me to dance with him, not even when he had leave from the hussars and socialized, nor has he ever requested a stroll through the gardens, or a ride in the park, or any other such activity one might embark on while paying those calls. He has expressed no interest in me whatsoever.” Not in all the years she’d known him. Even yesterday, when they’d been alone together in his bedchamber, he’d stated he had no desire for Winterly to catch her there, that he had no wish for any union between them.

  “We shall see who is right or wrong then, shall we?” A teasing gleam lit her brother’s eyes.

  “You are impossible sometimes.”

  “Yes, but one way or another, I will see you wed before the end of this year is upon us. That is the next mission I’ve assigned myself.”

  Wonderful, she’d now become her brother’s next mission. Not surprising though, and at least he wouldn’t marry her off to someone who didn’t appeal to her. He loved her too much to do so.

  As a passing waiter came abreast of them and extended his tray, she set her empty glass on it.

  Across the room, two late arrivals strode in, Major Lord Bishophale and his brother, Captain Bradley Poole, the two men good comrades of Harry’s. They usually fought alongside each other in the hussars, the two men now currently at home on leave as they sought to ensure a fruitful call-to-arms. She’d even danced with Captain Poole at Almack’s a fortnight ago, the minuet, and never had she had such a spirited dance partner as the captain.

  Winterly cast his gaze on the major and captain. “There are two men I wish to speak with.”

  “As do I.”

  “That sounded promising.” A chuckle from her brother. “Bat your lashes, dear sister.”

  “I didn’t mean speaking with them in that sense. Really!” she huffed. “You are beyond impossible sometimes, and Mama always tells me to watch my tongue, not bat my lashes. You should do the same.”

  “A sound idea. Then bat your lashes and watch your tongue.” Still chuckling, Winterly escorted her across the room, directly to the two men he wished to speak with. “Good evening, gentleman. Lady Ellie and I were hoping to enquire about your health. My sister is always worried about our men who serve. Is all well with you both?”

  She sent Poole an adoring smile, batting her lashes high and wide. “Yes, I’m always rather concerned with the health and wellbeing of our officers. I greatly admire all you do in serving our country.”

  “That service is a delight to offer.” Poole extended his hand to her, his head dipped and gaze steadfast on hers. “All is most certainly well with my brother and I. Have no fear there.”

  “How much longer are you on leave?” She placed her fingers in his and he kissed her knuckles.

  “Two weeks, possibly three. With the call-to-arms we’ve raised, all is going well.”

  “I’m aware James Hargrove will be joining you.”

  “Yes, a good man he is.” As the opening chords of a minuet rang out, Poole arched a brow at her. “Might I ask if you’re free for the next dance?”

  “As it happens, I am free.” She smiled sweetly at her brother standing next to the major. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  Winterly laughed and shook his head. “You are entertaining.”

  “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” She pecked her brother on the cheek then linked her hand through Poole’s offered arm.

  The captain, his gaze bright and his smile infectious, swept her onto the dancefloor amongst the couples in his fine cream silk pantaloons and tan tailed coat adorned with ruffles and sashes. “You look absolutely delightful tonight, Lady Ellie.”

  “Please, call me Ellie. This is our second minuet, which calls for a great deal of gazing into each other’s eyes, and as such demands the use of first names.”

  “Then you must call me Bradley, and I agree, this dance does call for a great deal of gazing into each other’s eyes.”

  “I’m almost certain the minuet is truly the cause of many a young lady falling under her dance partner’s spell while the aforementioned gazing is underway.” She pointed her right toe and slowly sank down on her left leg in the most elegant curtsy she’d ever performed, while across from her the captain bowed deeply, the buckles on his black shoes shining bright. Once again, and so very quickly, he’d sparked her competitive spirit, just as he’d done during their first minuet. “Are you competitive at all, Bradley?”

  “Exceptionally competitive, and I’m well trained in this dance. Let us see who can break whose gaze first?”

  “Oh, I do love a good challenge.” Excitement swirled inside her as they both joined into a set of eight with three other couples. As the music began proper, she and the other ladies moved into the center, slow and graceful in their step, then they joined hands together. To the right, they circled as their partners circled in the opposite direction. Gliding, as gracefully as she could, she broke the circle to join with Bradley, just as the other ladies did with their partners. They circled each other, fingers touching ever so softly, gazes on each other’s. “Point your toe out a little farther.” She couldn’t contain her smile as she offered the advice to her partner.

  “My toes are pointed perfectly, my lady.” Poole raised a curious brow. “Are you trying to make me miss a step?”

  “I would never do any such thing.” She bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her giggle, just managed to do so as well.

  “I’m certain you are.” His lips lifted as he moved around her, never allowing her to get too far from him and always with his gaze on hers. “No wonder your brother called you entertaining.”

  “That part is true. I am forever amusing him.” The dance separated them as she moved around another gentleman beside her, a brief contact, then moving in division, aligning with another lady, then back again to Bradley.

  “I prefer a lady with spirit, and yours is rather commendable.” He swept a hand around her back and led her in a circle, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “If I may ask, do you ride as well as you dance?”

  “I learnt to ride before I could walk.” Papa had been her teacher, his skill atop a horse unparalleled to any another, well, except for Ashten. The duke had overtaken her father’s ability by his eighteenth year, and she’d witnessed his progression with wonder. While at their country home which bordered Blackgale Park, she often caught sight of Ashten flying across the meadows atop his sleek black stallion. He was well known as a breeder of some of the finest horseflesh in the country.

  “Then I would be greatly honored if you would consider a ride with me about the park, perhaps on the next fine day?”

  “I would adore that.” She truly would, and to continue with her plan, she needed to be seen with as many different gentlemen as she could in order to keep Ashten guessing about who her intended might be, particularly since the man in question still stood in shadow at his window observing her.

  After the minuet ended, a country set began and she acc
epted the hand of yet another gentleman who’d marked her dance card upon her arrival at the ball. Throughout the evening, she danced with one eligible gentleman after another, her gaze slipping toward Blackgale House at every possible opportunity, and as unobtrusively as she could.

  Chapter 5

  Inside his darkened bedchamber lit only by the moon, Ashten fisted his hands and gritted his teeth as music drifted through his partially open window from the Atkinson’s ballroom. He’d spent an hour watching and fuming as Ellie had danced with one young buck after another, but as yet he hadn’t noticed her favoring any single gentleman over another, other than for perhaps Captain Poole. The two had taken the minuet into a challenge of sorts, of who could outstare the other. He also hadn’t missed Poole splaying his hand over the small of Ellie’s back for far longer than the dance required. How aggravating.

  He tossed his cavalry telescope on his bed, his mind churning over their last conversation.

  This is not a reasonable way to live. You must forgive yourself and cease this self-exile. If you don’t wish to attend the Atkinson’s gathering, then come and visit Winterly and Mama at home. Sophia and Olivia miss you dearly, and neither my sisters or I will ever saddle you to us by attempting to turn your head. You are family, will always be family.

  He had no intention of giving up his self-exile, no matter he’d enjoyed leaving the house last night to return to his club, and was that the captain making another beeline for Ellie? Damn it. It was. Poole had clearly requested another dance with her, and Ellie now curtsied and nodded her agreement. He wanted to throttle them both.

  Particularly Ellie, and he would, the very next time he saw her.

  Which would hopefully be never.

  Gah, just one little taste of being back in her company yesterday had skewered all his good intentions and somehow sent him slumping even deeper into despair. He should be purging his memories of her, not instilling new ones within his mind.

  Frustration and anger brewed deeply within him too.

  Bitter regret as well.

  He scooped up a glass of whisky from his side table and glugged the shot down before pacing the area in front of his window, his gaze trained on one extremely annoying woman who was looking so adoringly into the eyes of a damn fine officer, a friend, and a man he’d always held in great esteem.

  Could Poole be the gentleman she intended on eloping with?

  Poole had only been back in town for three weeks, so it was a distinct possibility, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know Ellie. The two socialized in the same circles, just as he had done with her whenever he’d returned home from leave, and before he’d decided to shun Society.

  Ellie had mentioned that her beau would soon be setting sail too, which could be a possibly if she intended on boarding the navy ship Poole would soon set sail upon to cross the channel. It certainly wasn’t unusual for a few of the men’s wives to join their husbands near the front line. Those women usually offered their aid as nurses or caregivers for the wounded and blast Ellie’s charitable soul, but she wouldn’t hesitate to nurse the wounded if called to do so. Not that he would ever have allowed her to follow him into battle if she’d been his wife. Not that he would ever have taken her to wife. Poole shouldn’t either. Hell and damnation. He couldn’t halt her from marrying Poole if her heart was truly set on the man. He growled under his breath, his fury rising.

  “Your Grace?” A soft tread of footsteps halted behind him.

  “Don’t say a word,” he clipped as Gorman waited silently and Ellie, her burgundy skirts flaring as she moved through the intricate steps of yet another dance alongside Poole, scalded his insides with her behavior, as if he’d drunken an entire bottle of whisky rather than a single shot. She twirled and for a mere moment her gaze seemed to connect with his through the open balcony doors, her long eyelashes sweeping down then back up again to expose those smoldering golden eyes of hers.

  He swore viciously again. If he could, he’d be over there in a flash, tearing her away from Poole and whisking her around the dancefloor himself.

  His heart clenched and shoulders slumped.

  No, he wouldn’t.

  To date, not once had he ever held her in his arms and danced with her, not even when she’d come of age. When she’d been seventeen, he’d ridden off to war, and over the seven years since he’d joined the hussars, he’d traveled immensely, most of the time trying to blot out all thought of her.

  He gave the window his back, perched his backside on the sill and glared at his butler. “I can’t take the chance of hurting another innocent lady.”

  “Lady Ashley chose her own path.”

  “She sensed my desire to offer for her.”

  “Yet you hadn’t done so when you could have.”

  “I was getting around to it.” Gorman had been there that morning he’d intended on calling around to Lady Ashley’s home so he could speak with her father, only he’d been unable to step outside his front door. For some reason, he’d gotten all flustered, which was so very unlike him.

  “I’ve never spoken of this, Your Grace, but during your recovery from the cannon fire, there were several nights when you awoke from terrible nightmares as I tended you.” His butler clasped his hands firmly behind his back. “Each time when you awoke, it was after calling Lady Ellie’s name.”

  “She’s Harry’s little sister.”

  “She’s hardly his little sister anymore.” Gorman stared out the window and frowned. “She’s also about to take a stroll outside with her dance partner.”

  “Would that still be Captain Bradley Poole?” He had no intention of turning around and laying his gaze on her again. Only danger lay down that path, as it already had this evening.

  “Yes.”

  “What are they doing now?” Jaw clenched, he stayed his position. His butler had his uses and being observant was one of them. “Give me an exact description.”

  “They’re standing on the balcony in full view of those inside.” Gorman’s frown deepened. “Although they do appear to be in a rather deep discussion, their heads bent close together.”

  “Tell me when they return inside.” He waited, counting a full five minutes before he got impatient and growled, “Are they still conversing?”

  “They are, although they’re now moving deeper into the shadows, nearer the steps leading down into the garden.”

  “Does she have an escort?”

  “No, Your Grace.” Gorman snagged the telescope from the bed, extended the barrel and peered through the lens as he himself had done throughout the night. “Ah, there we are. I didn’t see her sisters farther along the terrace. The captain is dropping a kiss on her gloved hand and…now returning indoors. She is with Sophia and Olivia.”

  “Where the hell is Winterly?” He knocked another shot of whisky down while Gorman remained on duty at the window. “Give me another update.”

  “All three ladies have now disappeared into the garden, with their arms linked.”

  “Don’t take your gaze off them.” Harry’s sisters could cause immense trouble when left alone, and he knew that well since he’d all but grown up with them. With his tension doubling, he gritted his teeth. “Blast it, William. What is Winterly thinking letting them wander about the gardens all alone?”

  “Gads.” Gorman dropped the telescope with a thump on the mat underfoot. “Lady Sophia and Lady Olivia are returning to the ballroom.”

  “They’ve left Ellie alone?” He bounded in front of the window and searched the darkened gardens. “Where is she?”

  “At our rear gate.”

  It clicked shut and Ellie whisked down his garden path in the moonlight. She was a vision in her gown of burgundy chiffon, the empire neckline cut low and the dainty capped sleeves barely holding onto her shoulders.

  “Ashten?” She halted underneath his window, her voice drifting through the three-inch opening at the bottom.

  Fingers digging into the sill, he stayed his position.

/>   “Lady Ellie is now attempting to get your attention.” Gorman handed him the telescope.

  “So I noticed.” He pushed away from the sill and set the telescope on the side table next to his whisky glass.

  “Good evening, Gorman. I see the duke is with you, but not answering me.”

  “A good evening to you too, my lady.” Gorman lifted a hand and waved to the imp. “Have you been enjoying yourself at the ball?”

  “Most certainly. Would you be so kind as to ask the Duke of Ashten to meet me by his fishpond?”

  “Of course. I shall do so immediately.”

  “I’m not meeting you by my fishpond!” He thrust his window fully open, the lip hitting the top catch, and his blasted enchanting imp smiled even wider.

  “I wished to dance with you, or do you think I’m being too forward in asking?”

  “You’re being far too forward.”

  “I had an interesting conversation with Captain Poole tonight.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “He’s asked me to go riding with him in the park on the next fine day.”

  “Is he your intended then?”

  “I hope that next fine day is tomorrow.” She twirled around, her hands in her flaring skirts and an eager smile lifting her lips.

  “I asked if he’s your intended?”

  “You are being very forthright.” She gave him a fierce frown, her smile dying away.

  “You are being very devious.”

  “I do not have a devious bone in my body.” She rubbed her arms, the wind cool as it blew inside.

  “You are riddled with devious bones, and where is your wrap?”

  “I left it behind.” Fire glinted in her golden eyes, a fire he’d seen often over the years. She wasn’t going to leave without seeing him again. He knew it to the depths of his soul.

  “Leave now, Ellie, and never return.” He could be just as stubborn and devious as she could be.

  “The fishpond,” she stated firmly again, then marched back along the path before sneaking into the bushes and disappearing behind the tree bordering his fishpond.