The Forgotten Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  Clearly, this room belonged to a man without a valet or maid to offer assistance.

  “It’s very...eclectic,” Regina said, settling on the most apt description she could think of. “I hardly know where to focus my attention.” Noticing Guthrie’s tight expression, she added, “There’s so much to look at.”

  “I’ve collected a lot of things over the years.” When he passed her, the brush of his arm against hers caused a dip in the middle of her belly. She instantly dismissed it as nothing more than a normal response to feeling out of place.

  Stepping further into the room, Regina considered the stacks of books.

  “Ye’re welcome to read whichever ones strike yer fancy,” Guthrie told her.

  Spotting a copy of Nicomachean Ethics, she picked it up and stood for a moment just savoring the solid feel of the thick leather volume. “This is my brother’s favorite.” She opened the book and read the first page. “‘Every art and every scientific system, and in like manner every course of action and deliberate preference, seems to aim at some good; and consequently the good has been well defined as that which all things aim at.’” A wistful smile caught her lips and she prepared to set the book aside, until the one that had been lying beneath it caught her attention. The Mysterie of –

  Regina caught herself before she uttered the blasphemous word that followed. She stared at it, completely mesmerized and confounded by the fact that she found herself mere inches away from such an immoral book.

  “That one’s probably not as suitable,” Guthrie said, jolting her slightly with the sound of his voice. Flushing, she hastily covered it up with Aristotle’s far more appropriate tome. “I’ll wager there are those who’d insist that only the devil himself would tempt someone to open it.”

  Regina believed he was right. While the need to pretend utter outrage and distance herself from the book was strong, the desire to take a peek and discover its secrets whispered through her. She took a step back. It was like the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, there to open her eyes to a subject on which she lacked education.

  Turning away, she found Guthrie watching her closely. His expression offered no hint of what he was thinking, and yet the shiver his dark gaze evoked informed her that she should be careful where he was concerned.

  “If ye’ll forgive me,” he murmured, “I’m not used to entertainin’ young ladies as fine as yerself.” He crossed to a door that Regina had not yet noticed. “This is where ye’ll be stayin’.”

  He disappeared through the doorway and Regina followed, arriving in what had to be the most garish bedchamber in existence.

  A gilded four poster canopy bed draped in swaths of burgundy velvet crowded the space. Half of it had been filled with an overwhelming abundance of silk clad cushions in various colors, shapes and sizes. The prospect of diving right into the middle of them was incredibly tempting.

  But since doing so would be improper, Regina resisted the urge and explored the rest of the room with her gaze. There was a tall cheval glass mirror, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a wash stand. Black bombazine curtains hung in heavy pleats on either side of the room’s only window.

  “Is this” –Regina’s breath shuddered, causing the words to stick in her throat— “your bedchamber?”

  “Aye.”

  She almost leapt high enough to hit her head on the ceiling. Guthrie was closer than she’d realized. So close in fact that she’d felt his breath on the back of her neck when he’d spoken. She wasn’t sure what startled her more, the fact that this was what her brain was choosing to focus on at the moment or that she now wished she’d been able to stay still and savor the experience properly.

  Embarrassed that she was allowing such thoughts to form, that her body seemed to enjoy his proximity, Regina stepped sideways, adding distance.

  “I cannot stay in your room.” She pretended to find great interest in a landscape painting that hung on the wall. “I mean, you’re a man. A bachelor, I believe?”

  Guthrie raised an eyebrow. “This is the most comfortable bedchamber available. The sheets are clean an’ ye’ll have whatever privacy ye require. That door over there leads out onto a walkway that’ll take ye back to the stairs so ye won’t have to go through me parlor. Where I’ll be stayin’.”

  “You...” Words finally failed her at the idea of sleeping just a few feet away from this extraordinary man. To say the situation she found herself in was scandalous didn’t quite cut it. Another word would have to be found, quite possibly one that had not yet been invented.

  Exasperated, Regina dropped onto the edge of the bed with a sigh.

  “Havin’ second thoughts about yer escape plan?” Guthrie asked. Arms crossed, he stood in the doorway between the two rooms with one shoulder leaning against the frame. The question was light and blasé, with no indication that he cared one way or the other about her response. But his eyes gave him away. The intensity there suggested that he was extremely curious to know her answer.

  “Of course I am,” Regina told him honestly. For what was the point in lying? She’d gain nothing from it. “I have done the unthinkable. The only way my situation could possibly be any worse would be if I’d run off to Gretna Green with a chimney sweep.”

  “Chimney sweeps can be nice enough.”

  She glared at him. “You know what I mean.”

  He pursed his lips. “Instead, you ran away to St. Giles with a criminal. I’m not so sure things can get much worse than that.”

  “Dear God, I’ll be utterly ruined.”

  “And ye’re just now realizin’ this?”

  Every muscle in her face went slack beneath the weight of acceptance. “No. I considered it before I left the house. It just didn’t seem as real to me then as it does now.”

  “You could still go back.” His voice was low and soothing, like a balm to her strangled nerves. “The repercussions won’t be as bad as they will be later.”

  She shook her head. “How will they even explain my absence?”

  “Who? Yer parents?”

  When she nodded, Guthrie pushed away from the door frame with a shrug. Striding to the window, he drew the veil behind the black curtain aside just enough for him to look out onto the street. “The Season has ended, so yer absence will not be noticeable right away. Most likely, yer mother will soon leave town. If anyone asks, it will be said that the two of ye have decided to travel.”

  Struck by the trouble she was putting her family through, not to mention the shame they might have to endure if anyone learned the truth, Regina experienced a brief moment of regret. But then she thought of Stokes and how both their parents were trying to direct their futures against their wills. She’d run away just as much for him as she had for herself and to go back now would ruin all of that. The only thing she could hope was that Guthrie was right and that Windham had been provided with an explanation plausible enough to prevent him from ever suspecting the truth.

  “I cannot go back,” Regina said, more as a reminder to herself than anything else. She would have to find another solution instead, even if she couldn’t think of one at the moment.

  “Then ye may remain here as long as ye wish, or at least until ye figure out what to do next.”

  Guthrie’s hand caught beneath the veil curtain as he turned, sweeping it aside just enough to allow Regina a better view through the window. Her palms turned clammy and she swallowed audibly in response to what she saw. “Are those bars on the window?” The thought of being trapped here in this room caused all the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck to stand on end. She’d thought he was trying to help her, but perhaps she’d been wrong. Swallowing, she forced herself to ask, “Am I your prisoner?”

  Guthrie answered her question with a chuckle that seemed to suggest she was being silly. “Not at all. Ye’re free to leave whenever ye wish to, luv. But this ain’t Mayfair. The bars are there for yer protection. Or mine, mostly, seein’ as that there bed tends to be where I lay me head.”

  “Of co
urse.” The words scarcely whispered past her lips. All she could see now was him laid out on the bed where she presently sat. She vaulted to her feet as if someone had pinched her.

  “I’ve got some things to attend to now, so I’ll leave ye to settle in a bit.” He studied her a moment and God help her if her body didn’t grow hot from his stare. She crossed her arms and hoped he couldn’t tell. “Would ye like to get out of that gown?”

  Regina’s mouth fell open. A garbled, “Wha..er..ugh?” was all that came out.

  Guthrie glanced up at the ceiling as if he hoped for divine intervention to save him. On a sigh, he waved one hand in her general direction and said, “It doesn’t look very comfortable, so if ye want somethin’ else to wear, I can ’ave a few items delivered.” He slid his gaze down the length of her body before returning it to her face. “Last I checked, weddin’ gowns tend to attract attention. Disguisin’ ye as lower class will help ye blend in. One of the servin’ wenches can help ye change.”

  “Oh. Um.” Once again, Regina wondered why he was being so thoughtful and nice, but realized she was too tired to question his motives right now. There would be time to figure that out later. So she tried to smile. “Thank you.”

  The edge of his mouth quirked and for a second, a youthfulness that was generally hidden behind his somber expressions and ugly moustache, revealed itself to her. Regina stared. She’d thought he was well into his forties, but perhaps he was younger. As in five to ten years younger. Intrigued, she decided she’d have to learn more about this man who had yet to show her the callous side he was so renowned for. As of yet, he’d been nothing but kind and helpful. To a woman to whom he owed nothing.

  As if sensing her interest in learning his secrets, Guthrie backed away slowly, retreating into his parlor. “If there’s anythin’ ye need, just give a holler an’ someone will come to assist ye.” And with that, he departed, leaving Regina alone to ponder her fate.

  Carlton was fleeing. It was really the only way to describe the haste with which he’d left her – the loveliest woman he’d ever encountered in all his damned life. How the hell was he going to use her without getting sidetracked? Hell, when she’d found that book about sexual pleasure and he’d seen curiosity light up her eyes, he’d had thoughts… Thoughts he’d no business having where she was concerned.

  Returning to his office, he shut the door and expelled a deep breath. “Christ have mercy.” Crossing to the sideboard, he poured himself a glass of brandy and downed it, even though it was only nine in the morning. “Damn!”

  She was different from any other woman he’d ever met, sophisticated and cultured, yet somehow incredibly normal without being ordinary. Instead she was daring and brave.

  She was everything he was not. Innocent and beautiful.

  The need to reach out and touch her hair, the golden tresses tinged with copper, was almost paralyzing.

  And her skin…

  He’d never seen anything quite so smooth or unblemished. The creamy complexion was a stark contrast to his own darker coloring, which was something he’d thought on a great deal while watching her sit on his bed. It had taken carefully honed control not to let the effect of her presence there show in his actions or his expression. She was like a siren, tempting him with perfection.

  Topping up his glass, he took another sip of brandy.

  Perhaps he ought to visit Amouratte’s later and work through some of the tension Lady Regina had caused him. When he’d suggested getting her out of her dress, he’d pictured himself unbuttoning the row of buttons at her back and sliding the sleeves down over her shoulders. Muttering an oath, he went to his desk and retrieved a fresh piece of paper. She was both an inconvenience and a blessing. Certainly not a woman that he could have. No matter what. He wasn’t quite that cruel.

  Picking up his quill, he dipped it in the inkwell and proceeded to write.

  * * *

  My Lord Hedgewick,

  I wish to inform you of your daughter’s wellbeing. She is in excellent health and perfectly safe in my care. For now. As you have probably deduced, your intention to ruin her life through marriage has greatly upset her. But you need not worry. She will find comfort with me in my bed.

  Sincerely,

  V.S.

  * * *

  Satisfied, Carlton folded the letter and sealed it with crimson wax. A smile teased his lips. He doubted the bastard would figure out who the initials belonged to, which ought to increase his distress. Summoning one of his lads, a young man by the name of Claus Schmidt, Carlton told him to go to Bromley and post the letter from there. Just in case Hedgewick tried to track its point of origin.

  “I saw her come in earlier,” Claus said. Having tucked the letter into an inside pocket of his jacket, he stood facing Carlton who’d just given him a pound for his troubles. “She’s a real looker, she is. There’s quality about her.”

  “She’s a lady,” Carlton explained, aware that Claus would not have seen many of those up close. “I expect ye an’ everyone else here to treat her with the respect she deserves.”

  “Of course.”

  Carlton had taken Claus under his wing just a couple of years ago when he’d tried to win against one of Carlton’s fighters. Impressed by the youth’s perseverance, he’d offered him a spot on his crew, which now consisted of twenty souls. Since then he’d proven his worth and worked his way up, becoming one of Carlton’s most trusted men. Only two other people held higher ranks, and they were Patrick Donovan, who’d been with Carlton for over five years, and Blayne, who’d once saved his life.

  Claus took his leave with the assurance that he’d return as soon as possible. Carlton then called for Patrick and Blayne to join him. “I want increased surveillance on number two Hanover Square. Make it discreet.”

  “We’ll enlist a couple of boys looking to earn some easy blunt,” Blayne said.

  Carlton nodded. “Good. Make sure they know what to look fer. I’m especially interested about the comin’s an’ goin’s. If they can gather information on Hedgewick’s reaction to his daughter’s disappearance, ye may give the lads a bonus.”

  Patrick knew not to question an order, but Blayne had known Carlton far too long to keep his mouth shut. “The only way to learn that much would be to interrogate the servants and that could make them suspicious.”

  “Ye’re right,” Carlton agreed. “Make sure the boys know they’re only to observe from a distance.”

  “We’ll see to it immediately,” Blayne said. He followed Patrick to the door and waited until he’d disappeared through it before turning back to Carlton. “How is she faring?”

  “Well enough after that abundant meal ye served her.”

  Blayne frowned. “It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

  Carlton nodded. “True. But I don’t want ye takin’ a likin’ to her. She’s a weapon to be wielded. Nothin’ more.”

  “Duly noted,” Blayne clipped before quitting the room. The door closed behind him more loudly than usual.

  Staring at it for a long moment, Carlton fought the urge to return upstairs and see how Regina was doing. He would not seek her out like some smitten swain eager for her smiles. But he had promised her a change of clothes and should probably make sure she got them sooner rather than later. Yes. She could hardly continue wearing a wedding gown for God’s sake when she had no wedding to get to.

  “I need a couple of day dresses,” Carlton told Philipa Harding ten minutes later. “They’re fer a lady I’m helpin’.” The owner of Amourette’s, a bawd in her early forties, did not appear to be the least bit pleased by his visit. Wrapped in a silk fuchsia dressing gown and with her red curly hair like a puffy cloud surrounding her plump face, she could not have looked more unprepared to offer assistance.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Almost ten?”

  “Which might as well be the crack of dawn for someone in my line of work.”

  Carlton nodded. “My apologies, but this is ra
ther urgent.”

  She puffed out a breath and glanced at the pot he’d brought with him. “Please tell me that’s coffee.”

  “Hot and ready to be served,” he assured her with the most dashing smile he could muster.

  She chuckled lightly and nodded toward a nearby sofa on which a collection of silk scarves, garters, and ostrich plume fans served as reminders of the sin that transpired within these walls. “Then let us enjoy a cup or two while I get my bearings.”

  Half an hour later, Carlton returned to The Black Swan with the garments he had acquired, no questions asked. It was one of the things he loved about Philipa. She never poked her nose into his business, and if he chose to volunteer information, he knew he could trust her to keep a secret.

  Climbing the stairs, Carlton reached the landing swiftly and without stopping to consider the eager heartbeats spurring him on. He had no particular desire to see Regina again. After all, he’d just left her company a little over an hour ago. But he had said that he’d give her dresses and… He opened the door to his parlor and froze. Because there she was, sprawled out on his yellow velvet sofa, fast asleep. A book rested on her breast, rising and falling in accordance with her breaths.

  Carlton set the clothes he’d brought for her on a vacant chair and moved closer. Her head was turned at a slight angle so it rested upon her left arm. Too tall to stretch out completely, she’d bent her knees to one side. The pose pulled the hem of her gown up around the middle of her calves, revealing the most delicate feet and ankles he’d ever seen.

  His chest tightened and he deliberately slid his gaze up to her face where black lashes lay undisturbed against her pink cheeks. Seeing her made vulnerable in sleep, Carlton felt a fresh surge of anger. What had her parents been thinking, insisting she marry Stokes when she clearly didn’t want him? Certainly, there was the obvious explanation about the match being a lucrative one, but since he wasn’t the only eligible peer available for marriage, Carlton worried there might be another reason behind it. Especially when considering Hedgewick’s connection to the previous duke of Windham.