In Need of a Knight (The Heart of a Scandal/The Heart of a Duke Book 0)

by Christi Caldwell

  In Need of a Knight

  By

  Christi Caldwell

  In Need of a Knight

  Copyright © 2017 by Christi Caldwell

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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  www.christicaldwellauthor.com

  christicaldwellauthor@gmail.com

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  Other Titles by Christi Caldwell

  The Heart of a Scandal

  In Need of a Knight—Prequel Novella

  Schooling the Duke

  Heart of a Duke

  In Need of a Duke—Prequel Novella

  For Love of the Duke

  More than a Duke

  The Love of a Rogue

  Loved by a Duke

  To Love a Lord

  The Heart of a Scoundrel

  To Wed His Christmas Lady

  To Trust a Rogue

  The Lure of a Rake

  To Woo a Widow

  Lords of Honor

  Seduced by a Lady’s Heart

  Captivated by a Lady’s Charm

  Rescued by a Lady’s Love

  Tempted by a Lady’s Smile

  Scandalous Seasons

  Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride

  Never Courted, Suddenly Wed

  Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous

  Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love

  A Marquess for Christmas

  Once a Wallflower, at Last His Love

  Sinful Brides

  The Rogue’s Wager

  The Scoundrel’s Honor

  The Theodosia Sword

  Only for His Lady

  Danby

  A Season of Hope

  Winning a Lady’s Heart

  Brethren of the Lords

  My Lady of Deception

  Memoir: Non-Fiction

  Uninterrupted Joy

  Table of Contents

  Other Titles by Christi Caldwell

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Schooling the Duke

  Excerpt from For Love of the Duke

  Other Books by Christi Caldwell

  Biography

  Prologue

  Berkshire, England

  Summer, 1808

  The world as Lady Aldora Adamson knew it was ending.

  It wasn’t a young girl’s flair for the dramatics that drove that understanding. Rather, it was the sorry state of her family’s existence.

  There is nothing…

  There is nothing…

  She fixed on those three words, a mantra inside her mind. For the loss of material wealth was a good deal easier to confront than everything else. Yet, as shocking as it was to discover that one’s family was nearly in dun territory without two shillings to rub together, that was not the news that had ravaged her world.

  Her father had a mistress and an illegitimate child with her. Oh, God. What must Mother think? Did she even know? Pain knotted Aldora’s belly and she stared hard at the pages of her book, the words blurring together.

  “Oh, come now, it will be good fun.”

  Fun. That single word spoken by Lady Emilia Aberdeen, daughter of the Duke of Gayle, to the three other young women she conversed with, so at odds with the tumult ravaging Aldora’s mind, brought her to the moment. At any other time, Aldora would have been attending her friends’ excited chatter. After all, Lady Emilia Aberdeen, Lady Constance Brandley, Rowena Endicott, and Meredith Durant had been prattling on eagerly for the better part of the hour. Aldora really should contribute something to the discourse. But this was not any other time. Not for her. For as remarkably blithe as her friends might be, Aldora’s fate was far from cheerful and carefree.

  No, when one’s world hung in a very precarious place, talk of fire-spewing men and sword-swallowers could never be seen as anything but silly.

  Aldora sat deeper in the folds of the crimson upholstered sofa. She attempted to make herself as invisible as one could when wearing blindingly white skirts and sitting on the gruesome, blood-red fabric. Perhaps, her friends seated on the enormous, equally red sofa opposite her would fail to notice that she did not focus on a single spoken word. Perhaps, she could carry on silently turning over the shocking news of her family’s dire financial straits and her father’s depravity.

  Meredith piped in with her usual good cheer. “I do so adore when the duke allows the gypsies to set up their camps on his property.” Daughter to the duke’s man-of-affairs, she’d been a steadfast friend of Emilia’s since they were nearly babes. That friendship had extended to include Aldora and Constance, and now Rowena, the vicar’s daughter. Meredith turned to Rowena. “This will be your first time with the gypsies. It’s all good fun.”

  Emilia snorted. “You only adore it because you’re able to sneak off and see…” Meredith widened her eyes. “Whomever your secret love is,” she put forward, earning a flurry of giggles. Once, talk of sneaking off and mysterious gentlemen would have commanded all Aldora’s focus.

  How naïve was I…?

  “Oh, hush,” Meredith chided, swatting at her friend. She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “You know I do not sneak about.”

  All the girls erupted into carefree laughter.

  Envying both the freedom of that joy and the simplicity that was their lives, she wrapped her arms about her waist and squeezed.

  While they proceeded to carry on, Aldora remained fixed on her miserable thoughts. Her feckless sire. Her brokenhearted mother. Her siblings. Aldora’s heart turned over once more. Yes, perhaps her friends would remain so engrossed in the prospect of the fair or Meredith’s secret love that they’d not notice Aldora’s world was crashing down about her ears.

  Flipping onto her stomach and, in a move that would have scandalized all their mothers, Constance kicked her legs up behind her. “I’m not worried about my fortune.” No, the other girl wouldn’t. Her father, the Earl of Tipden, had fortune enough for the four of their families combined. She’d never have to make a desperate match the way Aldora would. A kernel of envy pebbled in her belly. What a shameful creature she’d become. She resented that she’d been born to a father that indulged in his vices when her friend should know a level-headed sire, who’d brought security and prosperity to his family. />
  “This is not about fortune.” Emilia dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. “Late last night, I met a gypsy.”

  Shocked gasps rang about the room. Even Aldora fleetingly forgot her panicked musings under that pronouncement.

  Rowena pressed her fingers against her mouth. “You snuck out? It would be ruinous.”

  “Only if one’s caught,” Meredith pointed out, earning a sharp elbow from Constance. The girl grunted and rubbed at the wounded flesh.

  “It matters not if I went off,” Emilia protested. Nay, it mattered a great deal. A lady that went sneaking off and was ultimately discovered, invariably found her reputation in tatters. Aldora’s insides twisted. Then, with her family’s financial state, she and her siblings faced greater peril than even Social ruin. “The old gypsy, Bunică.” She paused and wrinkled her brow. “Or Buchanan? Or it could have been—”

  “A gypsy wouldn’t be named Buchanan,” Meredith pointed out in a tone better suited to a beleaguered instructor. She patted the pretty, blonde-haired girl on the knee in a patronizing manner. She’d always been the most practical of their group. Rooted in logic and reason, and disavowing any need for a gentleman.

  “Whyever not?” Indignation sharpened Emilia’s tone.

  “I know gypsies—”

  “You know gypsies, Meredith?” Emilia shot back.

  High color flooded Meredith’s cheeks. “Well, they do visit your family’s properties each season.”

  Emilia gave a flick of her hand. “Regardless, the old gypsy revealed to me a heart pendant that will earn the heart of a duke.”

  Rowena, who’d only recently joined their fold, wetted her lips. “I’ve no wish for a duke,” she said softly. While the other ladies swatted at her arm, she made a small sound of protest. “I don’t,” she insisted.

  Meredith’s eyes twinkled. “Is that, perhaps, because a certain duke’s second son, has caught your notice?” she asked. “As in the Duke of Hampstead’s youngest son?”

  A blush stained Rowena’s cheeks. While she stammered futile protestations, Aldora retreated into her own miserable musings. She should be grateful for the invite issued her family by Emilia’s father, the austere Duke of Gayle; a man one would never expect to open his property to gypsies, yet did, anyway. But it was hard to be anything other than panic-stricken when thinking about the trouble Father had wrought upon their household. A chance listening at the doorway between her father and his man-of-affairs, and all her illusions of life had been shattered. Aldora balled her hands. The wastrel. The reprobate. Whoremonger, who’d wagered away their family’s fortune and—

  “Who says the wearer will land the heart of a duke?” Constance scoffed, snapping Aldora back to the moment. “I am of a like mind with Rowena. I don’t require a duke.”

  At that bold challenge, Emilia bristled. “Very well, you and Rowena can have your penniless lords.” She peered about. When the group’s attention was firmly fixed on her, she said, “I’ll have the powerful, wealthy duke.”

  The two young ladies engaged in a fiery debate about proper and appropriate names for gypsies and who knew and who did not know gypsies. Aldora lifted her book higher and shielded her eyes, periodically laughing at the requisite moments. Yes, with their cheerful banter, they certainly didn’t have time to notice Aldora, sitting there, behind her book—worrying about her blasted future. Nay, not my future. Her family’s. Mother and Katherine and Anne and Benedict…the muscles of her stomach knotted under the hopelessness that came. How could she help anyone? A lady had few options—

  “You are distracted,” Rowena directed her solemn observation at Aldora. She’d only just recently met the vicar’s daughter and, yet, Rowena should be so astute. Knowing when the other girls that Aldora had called friends many years more did not see her misery.

  She swiftly lowered the book. “I…”

  Worry settled in the other girl’s eyes.

  “It is nothing,” Aldora assured.

  “What are you two on about?” Emilia called out.

  And here she had thought she’d giggled and chatted at all the right moments today. “We were talking about the heart of a duke pendant,” Aldora said quickly. An insignificant bauble that could never make right the muck her own father had made of her family. She sent Rowena a faintly pleading look, asking for her silence.

  The young woman hesitated, then gave an imperceptible nod.

  Emilia made her eyes go wide. “Why, Aldora,” she breathed. “That is a brilliant name for it. That is what we shall call it.” She clasped her arms close to her heart and her eyes took a far-off quality. “The Heart of a Duke.”

  “The lady who dons the heart shall possess his heart. Only, the heart will belong to no ordinary man… He shall be a duke.”

  Constance choked back a laugh. “What in blazes is that?”

  Emilia bristled. “Why, that is the prophecy given by the gypsy.” She gave her hand a flourishing wave. “Or it was something to that effect. What?” she asked on a huff, as the other girls giggled. “It matters not. All the old gypsy required was two pounds.”

  Aldora’s insides twisted. What would her friends say if they learned her family was one poor hazard game away from ruin at her father’s hands? A pound may as well have been the king’s crown.

  Constance groaned. “Well, no wonder she did not freely turn over the pendant. It’s merely a gypsy’s trick.”

  But how amazing if it were, in fact, more. Aldora grimaced. Egads. Where had that thought come from? It had taken one conversation heard by chance that revealed her family’s precarious state and the fabricated life of security she’d lived upon these sixteen years.

  “Perhaps it is a trick,” Emilia agreed. “But I would rather not fail and not make a match with a duke because I did not believe.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Aldora flipped the page in her book to at least make a show of pretending to read. Most ladies desired a duke. How many times had she overheard Mama saying as much to the Countess of Tipden or the Duchess of Gayle? Powerful, wealthy, and revered, they made the best matches for a young lady. They made even better matches when a lady had not even a dowry to her name. She stared across to where her friends sat chatting, their embroidery frames forgotten on their laps, while they casually conversed.

  How funny that she’d once been one of those bright-eyed young ladies, with excitement in her faulty eyes. Her spectacles slipped and Aldora pushed them back into place. She just wanted security. For her family—Katherine and Anne, Benedict, Mama…and herself. I want that for myself, too. Her heart hitched. The problem was that at sixteen, what help could a young lady be? She could not make her father be faithful, just as she couldn’t make a prosperous match with a gentleman who’d care for her siblings. Not yet, anyway.

  Meredith wrinkled her nose. “You ladies and your desire for a duke. What of love and laughter of an honorable man?”

  The truths of her own father’s sins slithered around Aldora’s mind. How innocent her friends were and how Aldora envied them for that naiveté. In truth, with all she’d discovered before the journey yesterday, Aldora should be home, contemplating the implications on her family’s future. Instead, she had done what any cowardly, elder sister would do—she’d fled.

  Aldora’s throat worked.

  “…find it…”

  Her skin pricked and, feeling eyes on her, she shot her head up.

  The four girls looked to Aldora almost expectantly. Her mind spun as she tried to come up with any suitable response. “Find what?” she blurted.

  Emilia let out a beleaguered sigh. “Oh, do attend us. We were talking about going to the fair in search of the gypsy.” She leaned forward and squinted, peering at Aldora the way she might an exhibit at the Royal Museum. “Why aren’t you paying attention?”

  She shifted under that scrutiny and buried her hands in the folds of her skirts to hide their tremble. “I’ve no wish to go with you and meet the gypsies,” she said to Emilia. Those were the truest words she�
��d said that day. Then, she’d not truly uttered altogether many words. “I’d rather remain behind and read—” Her words trailed off as her gaze snagged the title of the book; a book she’d quickly tugged from the shelf when they’d filed into the duke’s library a short while earlier. James Sheridan Knowles: The Gipsy. Of all the books to grab. Of all the titles to randomly select, she’d chosen this? On this day? With this discussion between her friends? A shiver ran down her spine. It is a sign. The book tumbled from her fingers and landed with an indignant thump on the floor. She jumped to her feet.

  She was not impractical. Or illogical. Not anymore. Not since she’d had her eyes opened to the cynical reality that was life. She didn’t believe in magical pendants any more than she believed in magical pots of gold at the end of rainbows.

  “Are you certain you’re all right?” Rowena urged, concern threading the clever girl’s inquiry.

  Her heart raced. Silly talk of gypsies and magic had wrought havoc on her ordered thoughts. “Our parents will not permit us to go off and visit the gypsies,” Aldora managed to force out.

  Which was only partly true. Emilia’s father tolerated those people reviled by Society on his property, but he’d never permit either of his daughters to freely interact with them. “No, they won’t,” Constance concurred. “My mama is ever so…so—”

  “Proper?” Meredith supplied.

  Yes. Aldora’s strict mother would no sooner allow her to run off and mingle with gypsies than she would allow her daughter to don breeches and present herself before the king.

  Of course, Aldora’s father wouldn’t even notice if she ran through the duke’s household with her white skirts afire. “…you can no longer retain your mistress, my lord…” The solicitor’s matter-of-fact pronouncement that had so shaken her world, rattled about her mind. Agony that her father had proven faithless, when husbands were to be loving and loyal and devoted. And then something dark and ugly slithered around her insides. Hatred. Dark, searing hatred for the man who’d given her life.

  Emilia clapped her hands. “Bah, but that is what makes forbidden meetings all the more fun.” Sensing a weakening in the room, Emilia touched a finger to her lips, shushing them to silence. “This trip to the gypsy’s camp will be different than our other visits. It is about each of us,” she took a moment to train a deliberate gaze on each of the assembled friends, “securing the heart of a duke.”