Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Thank you.” She looked at herself in the glass once more then stood and went to the chaise by the window. She would devise a new plan while she rested. There was no other recourse. She needed to make Robert fall for her. Again. She looked out the window at the clouds slowly drifting in the sky as she formulated her next move. In a moment, it seemed, she was startled by Emma entering the room. “My Lady! Wake up! You must have fallen asleep.”

  “La! What is all that commotion?” Lady Judith, a little disoriented from her nap, looked around the room.

  “Why, it’s the new Duke, My Lady.”

  “The new Duke?” Judith bolted upright. “The Duke ... oh, quickly Emma. Fix my curls. And the jet ear bobs. Where are they? I look frightful. Did you tell him he was meeting me here, in my sitting room?”

  “Not yet, My Lady.”

  “Don’t! Is he in the drawing room?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  “Very good. Leave him there. We are cousins commiserating over the deaths of family members.”

  “Pardon me, My Lady?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Help me with my shoes, Emma. We mustn’t keep the Duke waiting.”

  Lady Judith was soon out of the room. She ran down the first flight of steps then composed herself, smoothing her chignon and smiling at the recollection of how many times she’d been told by men that she had a lovely neck. She continued down the stairs in a decorous manner and made her way to the drawing room.

  The Duke was standing by the window gazing out at the square when she opened the door. He turned.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Judith sunk into a deep curtsy.

  “Come, there’s no need of that, cousin.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” Judith sat down, demurely, on the edge of the sofa, hands folded in her lap.

  “When did it happen?”

  Lady Judith reminded herself that this visit was not directly related to her securing the Duke’s attentions. She needed to, at least, act grief stricken.

  “Your blessed father and dear brother expired within hours of each other during the night. I got word at two this morning and immediately sent word to Hempstead. I’m glad you were able to come so quickly.”

  Atwater chewed his lip as she spoke. “Yes, well I couldn’t very well stay in the country. Did you know they were ill? I could have been here sooner if I’d known.”

  Lady Judith stood up, ignoring his question, and crossed the room swiftly. “Oh my poor, poor Robert.” She threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his hard shoulder.

  She looked up at him, her face inches from his, and his eyes were cold. Judith felt a chill go through her. Was it possible he noticed a difference in her?

  Her eyes, not the deep, clear green of a girl, but a mysterious mixture of dark green and brown flecks. Luminous, but a little brighter than they should be? As he had the first day after she’d come back, he again seemed to study her face. Searching.

  “What is it, Your Grace?”

  “We’re alone, Judith. You may call me Robert.”

  “Why yes, of course, Robert.” She went back to her seat on the sofa.

  Atwater went to the mantle and steadied himself against it. Judith watched his back as he stood in front of the writhing of the flames in the fireplace. He turned around to face her and began to speak.

  “As you know this house is yours. Your father had no heir. He, long ago, sold the country estate to handle his gambling debts. I know this because I was his lawyer, Judith. Now, we’ll be looking at my father’s and brother’s wills today. That is my partner, Tom Radcliffe and myself. My father had me alter his will after you came back from your travels. Since your mother had succumbed, my father set you up with an allowance, a very generous allowance so that you may live comfortably and bring something substantial to the table as a potential marriage partner. Should the opportunity present itself.”

  Lady Judith nodded and looked down to hide the smile playing on her lips. This was better than she’d expected. It gave her more time to seduce Atwater as well as alleviating her worries about her own survival.

  “That is all. I’ll be at Regent Street if you need anything.” Atwater bowed and exited the room.

  *******

  Lady Phoebe was walking to church. It was the only time when she was in London that she was able to be alone. Otherwise, she was constantly chaperoned. She felt smothered by it.

  As her mind mulled over thoughts of this nature, a carriage clattered by at such breakneck speed she was forced to jump to the side or risk being hit. It was a plain black carriage that seemed, somehow, familiar to her. “La, I’ve never seen someone drive so poorly. They must be in their cups. On their way home from the club, no doubt.”

  She approached the church. Groups of individuals stood outside talking in hushed tones. Phoebe waved here and there to friends and acquaintances then made her way inside the cool, dim interior and sat in a pew towards the back of the structure. The two women next to her were having a whispered conversation. Phoebe tried to pay them no mind, but the hissing, and low grumble of laughter would not let her ears rest.

  “... practically disowned. I hear he’s been in the country this last month. The old Duke and the Marquess wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “He’s brought shame on himself. He’s brought shame to his family.”

  “And the poor lady. To abandon her the way he did.”

  “To think he’s one of the best catches now.”

  The peahens were willing to overlook Lord Robert’s alleged transgression if it meant one of their own daughters might become a Duchess.

  The pastor walked down the aisle to the front of the church. He mounted the few steps to the altar and began the service.

  Lady Phoebe had all she could do to keep awake during the sermon. What was the pastor going on about? ‘The wise will inherit honour, but fools display dishonour.’ She shifted in her seat willing the service to be over.

  The service went on, and as the pastor spoke, Phoebe noticed members of the congregation looking at each other and nodding. Clearly, she was missing something. And she intended to find out what it was.

  *******

  Three days later, Lady Phoebe was preparing for the private ball at Almack’s. The new Duke of Atwater was being honoured although how the lady patronesses assented to it was the mystery on everyone’s tongue.

  Duke Atwater was none other than the man who had so unceremoniously left his betrothed, practically at the altar. Lord Robert Weston. Phoebe had been hearing about Lady Judith and Lord Robert for weeks. The realization that the man on the bridge and Atwater were one and the same alleviated some of her confusion surrounding the situation.

  The sordid stories about Atwater had been the longest standing gossip Phoebe had ever been privy to. As a result, she’d decided that the entire mess must be worse than she could know. How much worse could it possibly be? Apparently, there was no child involved ... which Phoebe thought was a blessing indeed. But, she supposed the mess must have detracted from his family name. Still ... Lord Robert had been so charming and gallant when she’d met and danced with him. Her first impressions, until now, had always been true. Atwater, it seemed, had eluded her sense of intuition.

  “My Lady, Lord Thomas is in the sitting room.” Mary entered the bedchamber looking sombre.

  “Thank you Mary.” Lady Phoebe looked closely at her maid. “Is anything wrong?”

  “I … I’m sorry, My Lady. Pardon me.”

  “I asked you if there’s anything wrong, Mary. You look pale.” Phoebe placed the back of her hand against the maid’s cheek. “Just as I thought. A little warm.”

  Mary smiled wanly, “I’m fine My Lady.”

  “La! Tell me what is going on? Please! Mary, you’ve been running yourself into the ground. You need rest. If I didn’t absolutely have to be at this engagement tonight, I should stay here and care for you myself.”

  “No, My Lady. It’s nothing.”

  “It is no
t nothing. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.”

  “It doesn’t matter, My Lady.”

  Phoebe patted the sofa next to where she sat. “Tell me.”

  *******

  Six hours later, Lady Phoebe was dancing with yet another dandy. In her teal blue silk, her skin glowed, and her eyes resembled soft blue lights. Her flaxen hair was piled up in a loose top bun and curled at the sides, in the latest style. She didn’t lack for male attention, and talking about the latest style of hat brim or the state of the weather grew tiresome after two dances. She glanced around, hoping to find a way to escape yet another conversation about the subtle differences in the mathematical or American fold for cravats.

  She spied Lady Judith across the ballroom, and when the dance was finished, she thanked her partner and excused herself, hurrying over to where Judith stood.

  “Lady Phoebe.” Lady Judith waved with her fan. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “You flatter me, Lady Judith. The pleasure is all mine.” Phoebe smiled. Judith looked lovely, albeit sombre in a black silk frock. It wasn’t the best colour for her complexion, but Judith could make up for any lack with her surplus of charm.

  “So has my cousin arrived?”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Yes, the Duke of Atwater. Is he here?”

  “I’ve heard no announcement.” Lady Phoebe hadn’t known Lady Judith was related to the new Duke. It was another confusing tidbit to add to the soup of the story about the two of them.

  Suddenly the room hushed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present Lord Robert Weston, His Grace, the Duke of Atwater.

  There was a polite dusting of applause. The Duke’s eyes scanned the room, found Phoebe’s and locked there. Against her will she tore her gaze from his. She placed her hand on her heart believing she could stop the pounding she was sure everyone could hear.

  It was him. It was said he was a cad or worse. She searched in her tiny reticule for her smelling bottle. It wouldn’t do for her to faint.

  Lord Thomas came up beside her, waving at the Duke to join them.

  “What are you doing?” Phoebe hissed under her breath. She snapped her fan open and pointed to the woman on the other side of it whispering, “Judith.”

  “They’re going to have to speak sooner or later, Phoebe.”

  “I daresay she’ll never speak to him again. What woman in her right mind would after what he did? I’ve heard some bits of the gossip. It’s quite disenchanting.”

  Judith had been speaking with a gentleman and turned back to Phoebe and Tom. “Will you two excuse me? I need to, to get some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Do you require an escort? I, myself am about to dance with Lady Phoebe. I’ll call one of the servers to assist you.”

  “No. Thank you, Lord Thomas. I’ll be only a minute. Mind you don’t steal him away from me, Phoebe.” Lady Judith winked at Phoebe and made her way to the French windows leading to the garden.

  ********

  Outside, couples were milling around, strolling or sitting on any of the myriad white wrought iron settees or chairs. The cool evening air played across Judith’s temporals. She looked into the ballroom from her spot near a willow tree. She saw the Duke join Lady Phoebe and Lord Thomas. Words were exchanged between them, and then Lady Phoebe extricated herself from the trio and walked away. Judith nodded and smiled.

  *******

  It was close to two in the morning when the ball began breaking up. Duke Atwater had left hours ago, and Lady Judith was nowhere to be found. Thomas escorted Phoebe to the cabriolet and assisted her in. He picked up the reigns, and they headed towards Wimpole Street.

  Lady Phoebe had been quiet for most of the night. The only times she’d joined him were when the Duke wasn’t nearby. It had all been very odd indeed. Lord Thomas felt ill at ease and didn’t know why.

  They rode in silence, and then Lady Phoebe exploded. “I cannot believe you still speak to that man. He is not a gentleman for all that he’s a Duke.”

  “Phoebe. Atwater is my best friend and my business partner. I happen to know more about the situation with Lady Judith than the gossip that’s been flying around London for months. I happen to know the truth.”

  Lady Phoebe shrugged. “Is that so? Are you accusing Lady Judith of being a liar? How unchivalrous, Tom.”

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I said I know the truth, and when you want to put down the gossip and hear what that truth is, I’ll be happy to share it with you.”

  “You men always stick together. I’m disappointed in you, Thomas. There is nothing you can tell me that will excuse what Lord Robert did or make it acceptable. Nothing. He and Lady Judith have been linked since they were small children. I’d never met either of them, but I’d heard about them and the plans their mutual family had for them.”

  “Well, you’ve made up for lost time, Phoebe. You appear to have developed a friendship with Lady Judith. I’m sure she’d be happy to introduce you to the skeletons in the family closet. You seem to be a willing ally.”

  “How can I not be? Judith is a woman who has been mistreated. Mistreated by a man. She’s devastated, Tom. And you’ve chosen to side with His Grace.”

  Tom pointedly rolled his eyes.

  “Go ahead and be that way. Roll your eyes and disregard my opinion. I happen to honestly believe Lady Judith.”

  “By all means. Believe whomever you like. Even if you don’t know all of the facts of the situation.”

  “Why are you being disdainful of my choice? You must understand how upsetting it is to meet someone and then to find out that someone is a cad.”

  “You’ve found nothing out, Phoebe! You’ve heard gossip. And, surprisingly, you’ve chosen to believe it. It’s not my intention to be disdainful, My Lady. But you have no evidence that points to Lord Robert’s guilt in the situation. None. All you have is the story of a woman who came back from her travels, then claimed she’d been shunned by Lord Robert. Now, it seems she can’t be parted from him. Since he’s become Duke Atwater, that is.”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Tom. What you are saying doesn’t change that Lord Robert walked out on a marriage promise.”

  “Again, where is your proof of that, Lady Phoebe?”

  They pulled up in front of the townhouse on Wimpole Street. The footman came around from the back and assisted Phoebe down. She turned and looked long and hard at Thomas.

  Tom. I only ask that you give Lady Judith, and her story, a chance. She’s alone in this world now.”

  Thomas sat quietly for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. His voice was deadly quiet when he said, “Please don’t force me to choose between my friends, Phoebe. I’m afraid you won’t agree with my choice.” He snapped the reigns and was off before Phoebe had ascended the steps to the front door.

  She went inside, the echo of Tom’s departure still ringing in her ears. She walked slowly up the stairs to her bedchamber. Mary was waiting to help her undress. “Did you enjoy yourself, My Lady?”

  “Yes, yes. Now, help me out of these stays please, Mary. I’ve barely been able to breathe all night.”

  “But you asked to be laced tighter than usual, My Lady.”

  “What I ask for and what is good for me are two different things.” Phoebe smiled sadly. “I fear I may have made a mess of things tonight.” She sat at the vanity and removed her ear bobs, fighting tears.