A Deal with the Duke

by Patty Bryant

  Alexander reluctantly stepped away from Savitri’s side and performed the appropriate introductions. At least the next dance wasn’t a waltz.

  As the evening passed a slowly swelling tide of support moved to Savitri’s side. Alexander was never entirely certain what it was that Mrs. Pemberton said to counter the rumors – he barely even caught sight of her moving from group to group, as she managed her circuits of the room with a subtlety and naturalness that far outshone Louisa’s attempts – but he couldn’t deny that it was working. After Nicholas, another popular bachelor asked her for the next dance, and then another, and by the time several hours had passed Alexander was barely able to make his way through the multiple supplicants begging her for the last dance to claim her for himself.

  Lady Louisa spent the end of the evening sitting in a corner of the room sulking, abandoned by all but one equally ill-humored companion. Even Bernard, her husband, had chosen to squire Mrs. Pemberton around the floor for the last dance.

  Alexander could have chosen to crow over his victory, but with Savitri in his arms and the soft sounds of violin, harp, and piano drifting across the room, he found that he simply didn’t care what Louisa did or didn’t do. Savitri rested her head against his shoulder, tired due to the late hour, and that was all that mattered.

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  Savitri stepped back from the railing of the hunting lodge’s verandah as Penelope thundered by, her stallion kicking up tufts of dirt and grass as she went. A moment later the rest of the party followed after her, mostly gentlemen carrying their shotguns and other hunting equipment, although there were a small number of women scattered amongst them. She was glad Penelope had taken to the sport with such zeal, but Savitri herself had never felt entirely comfortable hunting. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for the birds.

  She supposed she had acquired such compassion for animals from her mother who, despite her conversion to Christianity and marriage to a beef-lover, had never eaten meat. Of course, Savitri could simply ask her. She turned her head to the other woman on the verandah, who standing where she could soak in the warmth of the September sunlight. “Shall I have them bring you a horse to ride, mother?” she asked teasingly.

  Mrs. Booth shuddered dramatically. “You shall do no such thing. I trust my own two feet, not one of those great beasts. Besides, I’d look ridiculous trying to climb up to the saddle, my skirts going everywhere and losing a dozen hairpins in the process, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  There had been no hope of bringing Savitri’s mother to London in time for the wedding, but Savitri had written her a letter with the news of the proposal immediately nonetheless. After the wedding, and now in possession of the funds of the Duchy of Clermont, she had written again, and this time sent a first-class ticket for passage to England. The first letter wouldn’t yet have reached its destination, but she hadn’t been able to wait any longer.

  She had passed the months it took for word to reach Calcutta and back with her stomach tied in knots, not certain if her mother would choose to make the difficult trip to join her or if she would prefer to remain in the country of her birth, near her friends and family. The sea voyage had been rough enough on Savitri, and it would be worse for her mother, who was older and less familiar with English.

  But she had come. Savitri had only had a few days’ warning; she was expecting nothing when the ship her mother was on docked in Plymouth to restock and sent a message ahead to London announcing their approach. Savitri had been so ecstatic that she could hardly recognize her own feelings – some mixture of excitement, jubilation, and agitation that filled her chest until she sincerely suspected she might burst. She had spent the entire day of their appointed arrival waiting on the docks, anxiously examining every ship and every de-boarding passenger for some sign of the woman who had raised her, who had kissed her skinned knees and cooked her favorite meals when she was sick.

  They had only been apart for a little over a year, but Savitri had left Calcutta in the full and wretched knowledge that she might never return, might never see her mother again. The time that had actually passed had been nothing compared to the way she had hardened her heart, prepared to spend a lifetime alone. When her mother finally appeared – wearing the light cotton gown she had always preferred in Calcutta, now draped in what looked like half a dozen shawls to fight off the cold of an English spring – Savitri had flung herself into her arms.

  It was the happiest day of her life.

  Almost. It was second to the day on the same docks when Alexander had proposed to her.

  As if her thought had summoned him, Alexander trotted around the corner of the lodge on a horse so sedate it made Penelope’s mount seem a different species entirely. He was accompanied by the gamekeeper, and the two men were discussing the plans for that day’s shooting. Savitri stepped back up to the railing; this is what she had been waiting for.

  “Your Grace!” she called to get his attention.

  Alexander broke off in mid-sentence and turned to her, his face instantly acquiring the look of great pleasure he always took when gazing at her, as though she were a source of bottomless joy to him. She felt herself respond, her heart skipping a beat like he was still new and unknown rather than her dearest, best-beloved husband. He directed his horse toward her, coming near enough that he could reach up and take her hand across the railing. “Will you be all right while we’re away? You won’t be bored, will you?”

  “Of course not.” Savitri always traveled with a trunk of books these days; it was one of the many privileges she enjoyed as a duchess. She had plans to study a new work on geometry that had all the Royal Society of London talking.

  Alexander stroked his thumb along the side of her hand, the tiny movement sending a shiver up her spine with the promise it held for later. He lowered his voice. “Give me a kiss for luck?”

  “You, sir? I’m rooting for the birds.” Savitri lifted her chin imperiously, then ruined the effect by breaking into laughter.

  Alexander tugged on her hand and she let him pull her close. She couldn’t quite reach his lips with her feet still on the verandah floorboards, so she jumped up, balanced her weight onto the railing’s top bar, and let her feet fly up behind her. One of Alexander’s hands came up to help steady her, and he kissed her as she hovered there, somewhere between flying and falling. His mouth was soft but greedy, and his tongue brushed the open part of her lips, making her close her eyes in delight.

  The kiss ended and Alexander stepped his horse back, returning to the gamekeeper. Savitri let herself slowly slide back onto her feet, reluctant to let the moment go too quickly. She watched Alexander until he passed beyond a clump of trees and was hidden, then sighed and turned to head back into the hunting lodge.

  Her mother joined her with a grumpy sigh. “I am very glad that you find such happiness with your husband, daughter, but such behavior in public! Anyone could have seen you. I know a high-born lady would never behave so back in Calcutta. Is it not inappropriate here?”

  “Oh, very,” Savitri said, smoothing down her skirts where they had become disarranged by her actions. “But that’s the deal I made with myself when I became a duchess. I knew that no matter what I did, no matter how correctly I behaved, some people would always find a reason to talk about me. I wasted years and made myself very unhappy trying to please them, but it never worked. And now I have love, money, and power, all because I did what I shouldn’t have – at least, according to propriety I shouldn’t have.”

  She smiled. “They can’t hurt me anymore. But they still talk, and so I thought it was only fair of me to give them something to talk about.”

  A NOTE FROM PATTY BRYANT

  Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. Please click on the title to write a review of A Deal with the Duke. I love hearing what my readers think. It helps me decide what to write next.

  If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please click here to be added to my
mailing list.

  Patty Bryant is a cafe-based writer who lives in Brooklyn, NY. She is a member of the Brooklyn Writers Project, where she enjoys seducing non-romance readers into the genre.

  Although this is her first historical romance, she has a life-long fascination with the past. She received a M.A. in archaeology from New York University and, when she is not in the field, teaches archaeology for non-archaeologists at the Brooklyn Brainery.

  When she is not writing, Patty enjoys horror movies, painting her nails, and admiring her two spoiled cats.

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