What A Wicked Duke Demands (Historical Regency Romance)

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What A Wicked Duke Demands (Historical Regency Romance) Page 11

by Emily Honeyfield


  She was also someone who preferred to keep to the rules, which didn’t make sense with her appearance in Lovers’ Lane. Then again, she had accompanied her sister and had been planning to look out for her, which did make sense. Beth was loyal to her family, and she made sure people knew it.

  What Evans did find out about her background had Gerard interested. She had been educated at Bloomsbury School for Girls. Her father had been very keen on both of his daughters gaining an education, and they couldn’t afford a tutor. Beth had done very well at this school and was well-versed in many of her studies.

  That could work in his favour more than Gerard expected. Perhaps he could work something out with this news.

  Armed with what Evans had gathered for him, Gerard set out for the Campbell home the next morning. He had planned for most of the night what he was going to offer Beth, and what it could entail for her. If Beth was willing, then it would be beneficial to both of them. Beth got herself a job and some sort of respectability, and he got to see Beth every day.

  Was that what he wanted? Gerard knew that he was not looking for a fling of any sort, and he didn’t think he could be prepared to marry anytime soon. So why did he want Beth around him when he was unsure of his intentions? Did he just want to torture himself?

  He didn’t really have any answers to those questions, but Gerard had a feeling in his gut that he didn’t want to let Beth go. He had to keep her close.

  Selfish reasons, certainly. Hopefully, Gerard would be able to figure out what he truly wanted. And hopefully, he might have found someone who could tame his daughter.

  The townhouse the Campbell family owned was right at the end of the terrace just a few streets away from his own. Gerard couldn’t believe that they lived so close. It was a quaint little building, perfectly respectable. Chances were they wouldn’t be able to afford it for much longer after their finances had taken a sharp dive. It was a wonder they could still afford it now.

  Hopefully, Gerard would be able to give them an out.

  He pulled the bell-pull and waited. Moments later, the door opened, and a very smartly-dressed young man appeared in the doorway. He cocked his head at Gerard’s appearance.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I would like to speak to Mr Campbell.”

  “I’m afraid Mr Campbell’s out at the moment. Mrs Campbell is in, however.”

  “Then I will speak to Mrs Campbell.” Gerard retrieved his calling card and held it out. “Tell her that the Duke of Rossdale wants to talk.”

  He saw the penny drop. The young man’s eyes widened and he stared at the card in his hand. Then he shook himself and nodded before bowing awkwardly.

  “Of course, Your Grace. Would you come in and wait?”

  “Thank you.”

  Gerard stepped into the foyer and looked around. It was on the small side, but very homely. It was clear from the decor that women outnumbered men in the household. With two daughters and a wife, Edward Campbell was certainly outnumbered.

  He only waited a moment as the footman ducked into a room just off the foyer, returning very rapidly to say that Cynthia Campbell would see him. Gerard was led into what looked to be the parlour room, very bright and airy from the huge windows that faced the street. With the sun streaming in, they got a lot of light in here.

  Cynthia Campbell was pacing around the floor. She was a petite woman with pale brown hair tied into a chignon at the base of her neck. Her skin was smooth and looked to be devoid of any of the makeup women liked to splash on their faces. She looked awfully young to be the mother of two adult daughters. Then again, Gerard wasn’t about to gauge a woman’s age; he always got it wrong.

  She turned to him as Gerard entered the room. Her cheeks went red, and she bobbed a low curtsy.

  “Your Grace. This is an honour.”

  “The honour is all mine, Mrs Campbell.” Gerard could see she was nervous, hopping from foot to foot. He gestured at the chairs by the window. “Shall we sit down?”

  “I ... of course.”

  Gerard watched as the mother sagged into a chair, still looking flushed. Gerard sat across from her, watching her closely as he brushed down his trousers. Mrs Campbell’s hands twisted in her lap.

  “I have to say I’m very surprised at your presence, Your Grace. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve your visit.”

  “Well, I believe you have your daughters to thank for that.”

  “My daughters?” Mrs Campbell blinked. “I don’t quite follow.”

  “Two days ago, my daughter Rosamund managed to get out of the house and disappeared. We had no idea where she was. Then Rosamund was returned home, and the Bow Street runner told me that two sisters found her in the park. They didn’t give their family name, but after some looking around, I discovered that they were your daughters.”

  A slight white lie, but Gerard didn’t think anyone was going to closely check it. Mrs Campbell stared. Then she nodded.

  “Yes, I remember. Flora told us about finding a little girl looking for her mother. The child was distraught as she couldn’t find her.” She smiled. “There’s not much that can reduce my eldest daughter to tears, but your daughter certainly did.”

  Gerard didn’t know what to say to that. From what he had heard in the gossip, Flora was the more abrasive one, more flamboyant. It sounded like no one had noticed the more sensitive side to Flora Campbell.

  But it was Beth he had come here to see. Gerard needed to focus.

  “I wanted to thank them for their help, Mrs Campbell. Something could have happened to my daughter, and I wanted to know more about these kind people. Of course, once I heard who they were and discovered the ... history, shall we say ... I understood why they didn’t want to be associated with anything.”

  Mrs Campbell bit her lip. She sighed and looked away.

  “Flora didn’t mean any harm with what she did, Your Grace. She was promised something, and she was in love. The man deserted her.”

  “I don’t blame Miss Campbell for what happened, Mrs Campbell. And from what I heard, not all the blame should have been put firmly at her door.” Gerard spread his hands. “He didn’t love her as much as he claimed if he was willing to leave her in a compromising situation. Men like that shouldn’t deserve anonymity because of who their parents are.”

  Mrs Campbell relaxed a little.

  “I’m glad you think so, Your Grace. Not many people in High Society are as understanding.”

  “I’ve got three daughters. I wouldn’t want this situation on anyone.” Gerard laid his hands on his thighs and flexed his fingers. “May I see Flora and Elizabeth? I would like to thank them in person.”

  “Of course.”

  Mrs Campbell stood and went to the door. She disappeared into the hallway, and Gerard could hear her speaking to someone outside. Then Mrs Campbell was entering the room again with a friendly smile.

  “They will be right with us, Your Grace. Would you like some tea?”

  “If you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.” Mrs Campbell headed to the door again. “I’ll go and let the cook know.”

  She left the room. Gerard stood and began to wander around the room. He didn’t think he could sit still enough until Beth came into the room. Now he was close to seeing her again, his pulse was racing. Gerard could feel his hands already itching to touch her again.

  Not that he could do as he had before. That would certainly cause a scandal if he caught Beth in an embrace in the middle of the living room.

  There was a portrait on the wall above the fireplace. Gerard found himself pausing underneath it. It looked to have been painted some years before. A younger Cynthia Campbell was sitting in a chair looking at the painter, her husband standing beside the chair. Curled up on her lap was a little dark-haired girl who looked the image of her mother, while a slightly older girl sat on the floor playing with some wooden blocks.

  A typical family portrait. Flora and Beth when they were children.

 
Gerard found himself staring at Cynthia Campbell. She was a pretty woman, both then and now. As a much younger woman, she must have lightened up a room whenever she walked in. It wasn’t difficult to see how Beth was such a beauty after seeing her mother.

  The door opened, and Gerard turned. Mrs Campbell was coming back into the room, her two daughters behind her. Beth was slightly behind her mother and sister, holding a book in her hands. Then her eyes met Gerard’s, and she froze. Her face paled, and the book fell from her fingers, bouncing on the carpet.

  She looked even lovelier than before. Gerard’s gut tightened. This reaction was stronger than the first time. He swallowed and gave her a nod, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Good to see you again, Elizabeth.”

  Chapter 8

  Beth couldn’t believe it. The Duke of Rossdale was the man who had stolen a kiss from her? How had she not known that? The Duke of Rossdale was a well-known public figure, their family very prominent in Society. She had heard many stories about the family.

  How had she not known that her gentleman rescuer and the duke were one and the same person?

  She couldn’t speak. Lord Rossdale was looking at her with an intensity that was pooling heat in her belly. That intensity didn’t seem to have waned. If anything, it was growing.

  What was he doing here?

  “You know the Duke of Rossdale, Beth?”

  Cynthia was looking at her strangely. Flora looked equally startled. Beth swallowed. Why were her hands shaking?

  “I presume Father told you what happened for me to get covered in bruises?”

  Cynthia frowned.

  “You mean when you were robbed after you went out against our instructions?”

  “I was the one who rescued Miss Campbell,” Lord Rossdale said smoothly. “The young man who attempted to take her purse didn’t get away with it.”

  “Lord Rossdale came along at the right moment,” Beth said as she saw her mother’s eyes widen. “He chased the man away and made sure ... that I was safe.”

  Not quite the truth, but there was no chance of Beth telling her mother what really happened.

  “Oh. I see.” Cynthia narrowed her eyes at Lord Rossdale. “Did you know who was my daughter was?”

  “She only gave me a first name. It was only after yesterday that I understood why she did that.”

  He was still staring at Beth. Beth shuffled from foot to foot. Now she was beginning to realize. Rosamund Thinesley. Thinesley. The family name for the Dukedom of Rossdale. How did she manage to forget that? Then again, when you were raised to address people by their title and not by their actual name, it was easy enough to forget who they really were.

  Forget that they were human beings and not simply titles.

  “What’s going on?” Flora was looking from Beth to the duke. She still looked confused. “I don’t think I quite …”

  “That little girl you helped the other day?” Cynthia said. “She was the Duke of Rossdale’s daughter. He wanted to thank you for helping her.”

  Flora’s eyes widened and Beth saw her face pale. Why was she reacting in such a way to the title? Then Flora cleared her throat and dropped into a low curtsy, looking anywhere but at Lord Rossdale.

  “It ... it was nothing, Your Grace,” she mumbled. “But it was all down to Beth. She wouldn’t walk away from your daughter.”

  “I’m glad about that.” Lord Rossdale turned to Cynthia. “May I speak with Miss Elizabeth in private?”

  Beth’s heart stopped. Was that wise? She remembered what happened the last time she was alone with this man. But he wasn’t foolish enough to do it in their home, was he? Lord Rossdale didn’t strike her as the type who flew too close to the wind.

  Cynthia’s mouth opened and closed. Then she nodded and curtsied.

  “Of course. Come, Flora. If you need anything, Your Grace, I’m sure my daughter can help you.”

  Lord Rossdale smiled, his eyes twinkling.

  “I’m sure she can, Mrs Campbell.”

  Flustered, Cynthia nudged Flora into movement and ushered her out of the door. Flora still looked like she had been hit over the head, staring at Beth as she disappeared from sight. What was wrong with her? Flora had never had that reaction to a man with a title before. Certainly not towards a duke.

  Then the door closed, and Beth realized that she was alone with a man who was making her pulses race. She realized she was trembling. This was not good at all.

  “Beth?”

  Beth turned. And jumped back. Lord Rossdale had crossed the room and was now standing before her, almost close enough to touch. She hadn’t realized he had moved.

  “Your Grace.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  “No.” Beth ducked down and snatched her book from the floor. She straightened up, resisting the urge to back away. “Of course not.”

  If she wasn’t afraid of him, why was her heart racing? Lord Rossdale beckoned her to follow him, and then he was walking towards the chairs by the window. It was like he owned the place. Beth wasn’t sure what she thought of this. Then again, he was a duke. He would walk around like he owned everything around him.

  To think what it would be like to be a duke and not have a worry over anything. Except maybe runaway children.

  “Is Rosamund all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Lord Rossdale gestured for her to sit. He was still acting like the host. “Still tearful about her mother, though. She’s not stopped clinging onto my mother, the dowager duchess.”

  “Her mother was the one she was looking for.” Beth sat. The light shone through the window, almost directly in her face. She shuffled back, having to lean back in her chair to be able to see him. “How long is it since she died?”

  “What makes you think she’s dead?” Lord Rossdale peered at her. “Do you want to sit somewhere else?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Beth lied. She managed to shuffle the chair back and then she could see more clearly. Embarrassing in front of a duke. “I wasn’t sure until I saw you and remembered that you don’t wear a wedding ring.” She gestured at his right hand. “Being a duke with children but no ring? Either you were incredibly brazen about having illegitimate children in your home as an unmarried man, or you’re a widow. The latter seemed more likely.”

  Lord Rossdale stared at her. His mouth twitched in a slight smile, and then he sat.

  “You would be surprised that the first option happens more than you think.”

  “People really do that?”

  “I know a couple of noblemen who have gone down that route. But that’s not me.”

  Beth didn’t think it was. He didn’t seem the type to have a multitude of children around him without a mother around.

  “How long since she passed away?”

  “Coming up to sixteen months ago.” Lord Rossdale rubbed his eyes. “It was during that big storm we had, the one that almost broke the banks of the River Thames.”

  “I remember that. A lot of families living close to the river had been told to leave in case they ended up being swept away. There was a big panic about it.”

 

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