Two Brides and a Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance (Parvenues & Paramours, Book 4)

by Tessa Candle

  Two Brides and a Duke

  A Steamy Regency Romance (Parvenues & Paramours, Book 4)

  Tessa Candle

  Two Brides and a Duke

  Book 4 in the Parvenues & Paramours series

  EPUB Edition

  Published by

  Copyright © 2019 by Tessa Candle. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, now known or hereafter invented, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a critical article or book review.

  The license granted herein is to read this book for entertainment or literary criticism purposes only. Without limiting the generality of the forgoing, any use of this work for machine learning or artificial intelligence training purposes is not included under the license and is expressly prohibited.

  Two Brides and a Duke is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. With the exception of well-known historical figures and places, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-77265-032-7

  Two Brides and a Duke

  or Cave-at Exemptor, Let the Spyer Be Spared

  is dedicated to you, my true reader. You enjoy a good steamy romp with some naughty nobles and a witty heroine—and you only cringe slightly at my horrid latin puns. Perhaps most importantly, you are an early supporter of my Parvenues & Paramours series. Thank you.

  If you have made it this far in the series, and have not yet signed up to join my Reader Group (for a monthly newsletter with content extras and notifications of promos and new releases), what are you waiting for? Sign up now!

  Thank you for being my true reader. You are the person I write for.

  Contents

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  A Letter to the Reader

  Excerpt from Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke

  Books By Tessa Candle/T.S. Candle

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  a-la-main-droit: French term for a dance move, it means “to the right hand” and refers to a right-hand pass between dance partners, Ch. 9

  Arabian Nights: the popular name of the English translation, available and widely enjoyed in the Regency era, of One Thousand and One Nights, a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales embedded within a romantic narrative, Ch. 17

  bacon-brain: Regency era term for a stupid person, Ch. 7, 33.

  beef-wit: Regency era term for a stupid person, Ch. 26.

  bird of paradise: another Regency era euphemism for a prostitute, Ch. 26.

  bit of muslin: one of many Regency terms for a female prostitute, Ch. 12.

  bounder: a Regency era insult meaning a morally suspect person of low character and/or uncouth behaviour, Ch, 17, 28, 33, 37.

  carte blanche: an arrangement between a gentleman and his courtesan, typically involving financial support and maintenance in a residence.

  civet: a musky scented ingredient, extracted from (typically) an African civet (small mammal), and used in concocting expensive perfumes, Ch. 17.

  cry rope: tattle, Ch. 12, 35.

  doing it a bit brown: overdoing things or overstating things; the metaphor is of roasting something too long, Ch. 5.

  equivocation: balancing, qualifying or hesitating, especially to avoid committing to a single position, Ch. 7, 15.

  eudaemonic: blessed happiness, flourishing well-being, Ch. 36.

  facility: adeptness or ease (as with a particular task or topic), Ch. 6.

  first water: of the first water is a Regency era term for something first class, perfect. It is probably a metaphor based on a perfect pearl, so it is often used to describe magnificent beauty, Ch 19.

  Fordyce’s Sermons: this is the popular name given to a two-volume collection of sermons compiled by James Fordyce and published in 1766; the proper title was Sermons to Young Women, and it was approximately as sexist, pedantic, moralizing and well-loved by the young women upon whom it was foisted as it sounds. And as you may imagine, in was exceedingly well-used among the devout, Ch. 5.

  foxed: a Regency era term meaning intoxicated, Ch. 35, 37.

  game pullet: one of several Regency era terms for a prostitute

  gaol: old word for jail, Ch. 7, 8, 15, 18, 21, 32.

  Grenouille: French word for “frog”; admittedly, an odd name for a cat, Ch. 19, 37.

  humbug: balderdash, hogwash, a patently false idea or bit of gossip, Ch. 23, 35.

  loose screw: Regency era term for someone of low quality, character, or behaviour.

  making a cake of oneself: Regency era term for publicly embarrassing, or making a fool of oneself, Ch. 9, 37.

  pantaloons: a type of close-fitting pants (trousers) worn by gentlemen of the Regency era.

  peculiar: another Regency era euphemism for a prostitute, Ch. 8, 18.

  Prinny: nickname for George IV, while he was Prince of Wales and Prince Regent, before he became King, Ch. 8.

  proselytizer: someone who seeks to convert others, especially through preaching, Ch. 17.

  seraphim: from the Old Testament, it is a term for a type of angel within the heavenly hierarchy; technically the Hebrew singular form would be seraph, but seraphim has been adopted into English as both the singular and plural form, Ch. 35.

  sideslip: illegitimate offspring.

  smoky: Regency era term meaning morally suspect and up to no good, Ch. 23.

  the parson’s trap: a Regency era humorous terms for marriage, Ch. 30.

  The Quality: a regency term, usually used by the lower classes, to refer to upper class, often noble folk.

  Chapter 1

  Frost nipped Eleanor's skin as she wandered about the paths of the Fenimore estate in the first light of the morning. A solitary ramble was just what she needed, and the sound of frozen earth crunching beneath her feet evoked an illusion of strolling over a field of fairy diamonds.

  As charming as it all was, she hoped the walk in the brisk air would not enliven her complexion too much. She had taken a deal of trouble to powder it to a dull, lack-lustre pallor, in case she ran into Lord Auchdun. The tedious suitor had followed her out to the countryside, and was prowling about Fenimore trying to call on her, again. Luckily she had spied the approach of his carriage this morning and sneaked out the back way to evade him.

  Frobisher, Marquess Fe
nimore was not acquainted with Auchdun, so Eleanor had sought refuge in a visit to him and his wife, Rosamond, even though she knew them only a little. She had thought it would be safe, for no civilized person would intrude where he had no acquaintance. It was ludicrous enough that Auchdun had called at Blackwood Manor, the neighbouring residence where she had been staying with her friends, Tilly and Rutherford, to whom Auchdun had the briefest of introductions years ago.

  But none of that mattered to him. Auchdun was completely relentless in the pursuit of his beloved, as he insisted on calling Eleanor. It was embarrassing that Eleanor should be the cause of such an unwanted intrusion upon Frobisher and Rosamond’s home. She wished the man would just clear off.

  The trail forked and Eleanor took the branch leading past a thick grove that would completely hide her from the view of the path behind her, just in case. She shivered and pulled her fur closer around her, thankful for the extra warmth, and for the comfort of having something of her mother's to touch. Her mother had been a woman of grander tastes than Eleanor. It sometimes made her feel like a little girl playing dress up in the attic, but wearing something of her mother's reduced the ache of loss to a dull throb.

  The clump of trees thinned to reveal a rocky outcropping. Shovels and other work equipment leaned neatly up against the side of the stone face. This must be where the marquess' pirate's cave was under construction. It seemed silly, but Frobisher was expanding a natural grotto on his property and fitting it up to look like some hiding place for exotic criminals. The curse of being rich and idle was that one had to go through extreme effort to find novelties with which to amuse oneself.

  She laughed bitterly. She understood desperate bids for diversion. If she were not forced into seclusion by Auchdun, she would probably be back in London, scheming how to sneak into another late night gambling party. But at least her diversions were—what a scandalously crass thought—profitable. But it was probably just as well that she was out of town, and away from the worst of the whispering.

  Eleanor approached the cave's opening and peered into the dark interior. It was worth exploring. It might be useful to have a hideaway such as this, in case Auchdun remained in the area.

  She stepped inside. The air was cold and still, faintly laden with that earthy smell that some wine cellars had. She walked as far as she could down the tunnel before she lost most of the light from outside.

  As her eyes adjusted, she began to see glimmering will-o'-the-wisps of luminance here and there in the passageway. The walls were in a partial state of decoration with coloured glass beads, exotic shells and gold leafing. She wandered further inside, realizing that there was a faint glow creeping into the chasm from deeper within.

  Curious. Could someone be there? Rutherford had mentioned that the men were putting the finishing touches on Frobisher’s project, and only worked in the afternoon when it was a bit warmer for some of the adhesive materials, and when full light from the west lit up the entryway. There should not be anyone there so early.

  She crept further down the passage, keeping one hand on the wall to steady herself until her eyes grew more accustomed to the gloom. When she turned left to follow the light into another passage, she became aware of faint voices.

  More curious by the moment, she continued further until she could make out the conversation. She paused, stifling a giggle, to eavesdrop.

  A man's voice said, "I think you will find it more habitable now that I have made this little chimney to the outside and you can have a fire. But do not start feeling entitled, or I will stop bringing coal."

  A muffled epithet came from another person.

  "Well, yes, I may indeed go to hell, Wormshit, but you are already there. And cursing the devil will not help you. You will do what I say and you will tell me what I want to know. I can do anything I wish to you, and no one will be any the wiser. Just remember that."

  Eleanor shivered at the squeak of a wheel and a screeching hinge. The sounds grew fainter for a while, before the voice emerged again.

  "Do not make yourself too comfortable. I will be back."

  The hinge squealed again, and Eleanor realized with sudden alarm that the man was probably coming her way. She ran back through the passageway as fast as she could in the darkness, then hastened through the ornamented upper portion and out of the cave mouth, thankful for the daylight that promised a return to the natural order of things.

  What madness had she just witnessed? But she did not want to be caught running away like a guilty spy. Eleanor forced herself to slow down from her sprint to a brisk walk back up the path, and did not permit herself to look behind her, despite every impulse of her shivering nerves.

  She had almost caught her breath, as she rounded the thick copse of trees, but her heartbeat surged again as she nearly collided with a gentleman strolling down the path from the other direction.

  Chapter 2

  Delville stepped into the daylight from the shade of the cave mouth and congratulated himself on completing his secret chamber. The last of the improvements to the pirate cave would be finished in a matter of days, which would inevitably require some ribbon-cutting and pomp. After that, interest would fade away, and it would be the perfect place to stash his prisoner.

  In the meantime, he would have to rely on his secret door and thick stone walls to keep the unwilling inmate concealed. Hiding the loathsome brute in an outbuilding at the neighbouring Brookshire Park had become a little risky, what with his cousin Rosamond occasionally visiting there.

  Why on earth the newly married Marchioness of Fenimore should feel so compelled to visit the wife of her enemy was beyond him. It was a marvel that Rosamond had not simply evicted the woman as soon as the estate passed into her hands. Was his cousin that compassionate? Or was she smart enough to know that you keep your friends close and your enemies closer?

  Well, Delville preferred only to have his enemies close. He kept himself safely quarantined from his friends, which was all for the best. Perhaps he should make an effort to get to know Rosamond better. But that was music for another opera, for he was rather busy at the moment. And he certainly did not want to encourage her to rely on him. He was a useless fellow who could not even lift a finger to save his own sister. Rosamond was better off keeping her distance.

  His stomach growled. There was still time left in the morning to sneak into Fenimore and steal some food.

  Delville grinned to himself as he strolled along, mulling over his cousin’s kind attentions to Lady Screwe. Did Rosamond know that Lady Screwe hated her husband even more than Rosamond did? Did Lady Screwe know that Rosamond hoped and believed Lord Screwe was dead?

  Probably. Ladies were such canny creatures. It was an enigma how they extracted so much intelligence out of the inane prattle of a few morning calls. This had always inspired in him a great professional admiration.

  As he neared the edge of the copse of trees that hid the pirate cave from the view of the main path, he heard voices. One of them was a woman. He slipped into the shadow of a thick trunk. He could not be too careful when evading certain people. Especially the ladies, who were like truffle pigs when there was a mystery to root out.

  But Delville, as he overheard a few words, found his own curiosity piqued. He drew closer, careful to stay within the cover of the trees, and cocked his ear. A person could learn useful things from a private tête-à-tête.

  Chapter 3

  Eleanor grimaced in dismay as she halted suddenly to avoid running into the gentleman in her path. Of course it had to be Lord Auchdun. Creeping spider of a man.

  "Lady Eleanor!"

  She gritted her teeth and tried to walk past him without comment, but he moved to block her passage.

  "I say, what luck it is to find you here!"

  She stared frostily past him. "On the property of the marquess who has ejected you from his lands and asked you not to return? Yes, imagine the wonderful good fortune of it."

  "Quite the glittering wit you have. One could only
miss it because it shares the crown with so many other charms." His eyes widened as he said this, no doubt congratulating himself for a clever bit of flattery, which he had embellished with a particularly horrid attempt at Scottish brogue.

  "Lord Auchdun, I will pass and return to the manor. I know not how to communicate to you more clearly than I have already my disinclination for your company. Your committing trespass here is a singular bit of bad ton. I hope it will not be repeated."

  "Indeed. It is bad ton—I admit it. But I am driven by the noblest of causes. Please permit me to tell you how utterly bewitched I am, how my heart is smitten, how I long to make you my wife, if only—"

  "No. Is that clear enough?"

  "No?"

  "Under no circumstances will I ever consent to marrying you."

  His face reddened. "I understand that I have taken you by surprise, finding you here alone. But surely you are not serious in your refusal."

  "Utterly serious."

  “Perhaps you just need some time to consider—”

  “I do not. I know my mind and my heart, and both find the very notion at turns laughable and repugnant.”

  He tilted his head and looked heavenward as if wisely mulling over a deeper truth. "But do you not see how some people might construe our being out here alone? For the sake of your reputation, you should wed."