Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Y-yes Sir. He’s escaped, Sir.”

  “Very well, what is the prisoner’s name?”

  “Wallace, Sir. Bruce Wallace.”

  ********

  Tom and Mary arrived at Regent Street. They generally indulged in their pastime of whist twice a week with the Atwaters, but after all the intense episodes of the previous months both couples had stayed close to home and regrouped for a few weeks. This evening, the games would re-establish their tradition.

  “Oh, la, Mary! You look lovely. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too. Tom and I have been getting down to married life.”

  “Oh, I see.” Phoebe winked at her friend, and they both began to giggle.

  “That’s not what I was referring to. Phoebe! For shame!” And they giggled some more.

  “Well, let’s get seated,” Atwater suggested.

  “Right.” Tom pulled a chair out for his wife, and the four sat around the card table for their game.

  “Before we begin, I must apologize for a rather, ah, unusual occurrence.”

  “Why, what happened Robert?” Tom looked at his friend with concern.

  “Oh, nothing dire, I can assure you, Lord Thomas and Lady Mary. However, today it’s come to my attention that my wife’s esteemed cousin, His Grace, the Duke of Carlisle is to arrive any moment, here at Regent Street. I sent Jimmy back with a note to let you know, but clearly you missed each other.”

  Tom and Mary were silent.

  “Come, it’s not as bad as all that. I’ve decided to give the chap a second chance.”

  “You’re a good man, Robert. It pains me a bit, but since you’re being so benevolent, I myself, will join in that with you. Darling?”

  Mary shrugged. “I’m willing. But if he acts at all like he did when last here, I will ask you to escort me home, husband.”

  “We’re agreed then!” Atwater glanced at Phoebe and picked up his glass to make a toast which the others joined in making.

  “Let’s get to the cards then!” Phoebe smiled.

  Atwater looked around the table at his wife and friends. The London season began in less than two months. It promised to be a good one. He sat and began the deal. Within minutes, all were engrossed in the game.

  The cards were going well. Phoebe and Atwater were winning, and the friends traded kidding words about the prowess of the others. Everyone was laughing, and in another hour, they would sit down to light supper.

  A knock on the sitting room door, from Terence, brought everyone’s attention back to the reality of the moment. “Your Grace, Duke Carlisle is arriving. His carriage is outside.”

  “Yes, yes, show him in, Terence. We’re going to give it another try with the old chap.”

  Terence hesitated for just a second, “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  A moment later, Carlisle hopped down the stairs and into the family sitting room on the street level. Atwater and Tom stood to greet him.

  He looked very well. He’d shed a great deal of weight and clearly had been spending time outdoors. He looked altogether healthy. And something else. He seemed happier.

  Carlisle shook the men’s hands in a seemingly uncharacteristic gesture, and then took a seat on the sofa after bringing Phoebe’s then Mary’s fingers to his lips.

  “You look positively wonderful, cousin, or I should say Your Grace.” Phoebe smiled as the others nodded in agreement.

  “Cousin is a fine address in private, Phoebe. I will say I feel as well as ever in my life. I had an epiphany when I went back to Scotland over a year ago, dear Phoebe.”

  “Very good, Your Grace. It is happy news. We’re to have light supper in about an hour. Will you have champagne, or would you prefer brandy?” She was gracious, polite, not knowing how the Duke would respond.

  “I will have champagne, thank you. And, if I may, I’d like to say I’m pleasantly surprised to see all of you gathered together. If you don’t mind I’d like to say a few words.”

  The friends all looked at each other, then Atwater spoke. “Of course, Your Grace. The bottle stands before you, sir.”

  “Ah, thank you, Your Grace.” His eyes met each of theirs in turn. “As I said, I, relatively recently, found myself in a situation that caused me to rethink my entire life. I will not get into the details of the situation, only to say that I am here today, to offer my deepest, most sincere apologies for my behaviour on my last visit. I acted as an ogre, a prig. I’d like to apologize to your man, Terence, as well. And my most sincere apology goes to your maid, Lady Mary. The young Susan. I said awful things regarding her. I do not, necessarily, expect any of you to accept my words, but suffice it to say that I will spend the rest of my life proving to you all that I am not that lecherous being you met.”

  Once again, the friends looked around at each other, and Phoebe spoke for the group. “Your Grace. Your apology is most accepted. Please, join us in a toast.”

  “To Duke Carlisle.” Atwater raised his glass and the others joined, then Carlisle asked Atwater, “May I go and see your man, Duke Atwater?”

  “You may, Your Grace.”

  With that, Carlisle left the room, leaving the other four bursting with questions.

  “What do you suppose happened?” Mary wondered aloud.

  “To admit one’s wrongs and go about rectifying them. Well, that takes some deep soul searching. I respect the man,” Tom added.

  “Whatever it is, I’m very glad for it. He’s seems to be a much happier person.” Phoebe offered.

  “Here, here, I say. Another toast.” Atwater winked at them and lifted his glass.

  After about fifteen minutes, Carlisle came back into the room with a pleasant look on his face.

  *******

  Terence was in his sitting room off the butlery. Duke Carlisle had apologized to him. He was nearly in shock. He’d never seen such a change in a man, but he was glad for everyone involved that it had taken place. He could only reckon that the man had been spoken to by God.

  Terence uttered a prayer of thanks as he changed his jacket for serving supper. Terence put the twenty-five gold sovereigns Carlisle had given him as a tip for his service on the Duke’s last visit the year before into his desk drawer and locked it. Duke Carlisle had said he wished to make things right with everyone he’d offended on his last visit.

  “Terence?” There was a light knock on the open door of the butlery. He turned around at the sound of the voice he didn’t recognize. Olivia McGowan was standing in the doorway.

  “You never cease in your desire to show up where you are unwanted, do you, Miss McGowan?”

  “Terence, I … I have something that belongs to this house. I’d like to return it if I may.”

  “Oh, and what might that be?”

  She stepped into the butlery and laid a fabric wrapped package on the sideboard.

  “Go ahead, girl. Open it.”

  She opened the fabric to reveal a cluttered collection of silver. It was dark with tarnish, but the Atwater emblem on the tips of the handles could be clearly seen.

  Terence pulled his breath in sharply. “We need to share this with the Duke and Duchess.”

  “Whatever you say, Terence. However, please allow me to state, that although I behaved grossly inappropriately during my time and my visits here, I have never stolen anything in my life. I was forced to take the silver.”

  Terence looked her over as if trying to ascertain if she was lying. There was a long pause before he said, “I know you were forced to, Mary. Please, come to the sitting room. I dare say you were obliged to do a great many things you were uncomfortable with while in the company of Charlotte Evans. It is good of you to come and return what was taken. And to ask forgiveness for your poor behaviour.”

  They went down the corridor that led from the servants’ hall and entered the sitting room.

  The others were chatting, the whist game having been forgotten when the Duke of Carlisle arrived. Terence led Olivia into the room. “Olivia McGowan, Your
Grace.” Terence addressed Atwater, who along with Tom and Carlisle stood. Other than that, no one said anything.

  Olivia was dressed in a pale rose frock that set off her complexion. She’d removed her bonnet, and her hair was pulled back into a simple chignon.

  Carlisle stepped forward, “My Lady, will you sit?”

  Olivia looked at Phoebe. Phoebe nodded.

  “Will you have supper now, Your Grace?” Terence asked Phoebe.

  “Oh yes, Terence. And bring another glass and place setting, will you?”

  ********

  Supper had been delicious; the white soup had contained every manner of vegetable available from Mrs Crabtree’s garden. Biscuits, cold ham, cheese, dry cake and, for dessert, shortbread and trifle. The men drank wine, and the ladies had tea.

  The Atwaters and Radcliffes sat, happy and full and utterly amazed at the change that had come over Duke Carlisle. First for him to arrive and apologize to everyone, and now his appearance of being altogether smitten with Olivia McGowan added to the sense of unreality surrounding Carlisle’s visit.

  The two sat apart from the group, Carlisle regaling the girl with stories of the Scottish Highlands where his ancestral home, Duncan Castle, was located. Olivia looked enchanted.

  Phoebe turned to her husband and squeezed his hand. “Who knew?” she whispered.

  Terence and the new kitchen maid, Sally, had cleared away the plates and cutlery. Sally was sent up to bed upon finishing the dishes.

  In the sitting room, the Atwaters and Radcliffes had decided on another game or two of whist before calling an end to the night’s surprises. Carlisle and Olivia opted to stay with their conversation.

  About thirty minutes had passed. Phoebe asked for more champagne. “My darling … will you ring Terence for more of the bubbles?” She giggled.

  Atwater bowed, “As you wish, Your Grace.” They both laughed, and Robert rang Terence.

  The game continued, and after a bit, Phoebe glanced over at Robert. He shrugged. “You know, love, Terence may have fallen asleep. I’ll get the bottle.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Atwater rose and went to the closed door of the sitting room. He placed his hand on the handle just as the door flew open causing him to quickly jump back.

  “Well, well, well.” All heads turned at the sound of the east London accent that had just spoken. “You’ll do well to sit right back down, Your Grace.” The interloper closed and locked the door behind him.

  Phoebe stood. “Who are you, and what do you mean interrupting us so late?”

  Laughter emitted from the man’s lips. “But surely you know me, Your Grace, or shall I have to blindfold you so you listen more closely to my voice?” He brandished a knife, testing its sharpness with, first his thumb, and then slashing it through the fabric on the back of the upholstered chair in the corner.

  Phoebe gasped, her hands instinctively attempting to cover her body. This man had pulled her from her bath. He’d seen what only one other man had ever seen. Her naked body. “How dare you.” She sneered at him.

  Atwater stepped in front of his wife, Tom following suit with Mary. And then Carlisle did so with Olivia.

  “Don’t try and hide, Miss Olivia McGowan, Your Grace. She needs no protection from me, do you pet? No, she’ll help me in my endeavour here before she’ll help any of you. Come on Olivia. For old times’ sake, what?”

  Phoebe looked closely at Olivia. “Olivia, are you, did you, plan this, this invasion? Did you come here meaning to rob us with this vile man? Are you a part of this?”

  “Now, see here, cousin. I do believe, even you, have crossed a boundary with this unsavoury inquisition.”

  “Please, let Olivia speak, Your Grace.” Phoebe didn’t take her eyes from Olivia.

  “No, Your Grace. I did not. I came here tonight to return the silver I was forced to take from this house. I also have jewellery, some of which might belong to Lady Judith.” She looked directly at Wallace. “There are no old nostalgic times between us, Bruce.”

  “Shut up, both of you. And I’ll take that jewellery. Now.” Wallace snatched Olivia’s reticule from her.

  “What is the actual meaning of this interruption?” Atwater, himself, wasn’t frightened, but he feared for the ladies. This was Bruce Wallace, the man who’d tried to kill him at the cheap hotel in Covent Garden. Charlotte Evans’ lover.

  Wallace had been put in the army’s jail until his trial for kidnap and attempted murder was to take place. He must have escaped. That meant soldiers would be searching for him. And Atwater hoped upon hope they would begin the search here at Regent Street.

  “The meaning of this interruption, Your Grace? Why, I’m to be taken back to prison, my trial will not happen until the authorities have the time. Or until they feel like addressing it. I might as well go back with an actual crime on my hands.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Mary had stepped forward, her protective tendencies seeming to have gotten the best of her.

  “What I mean, My Lady, is that I am going to kill you. All of you.” His eyes narrowed as he looked around the room eyeing each in turn. “You.” He addressed Carlisle. “Lock the door that leads to the kitchen.

  “Wallace, there must be something you want from me. What is it? Money? A horse? Name it. It shall be yours, and then you leave here and never come back again,” Atwater spoke.

  Carlisle had locked the doors, one on each end of the room. Everyone looked to Atwater for direction.

  “Mr … ah, Wallace, is it?” Atwater said in his most gracious manner.

  “You need to ask, Your Grace? I’ll go to the gallows singing a Highland song. Famous for all intents and purposes. And you, all of you shall be dreaming in your graves,” Wallace supplied.

  “You’re a Scotsman, are you not Duke Carlisle? Though your accent is barely detectable I would venture to say you are from the Edinburgh area? Is that right? But alas, you’ll go to meet your maker, and I’ll be the one to go back to Scotland. Or jail. It makes no difference to me. I don’t mind being imprisoned if the crime was worth it.” Wallace smiled showing a loss of teeth across the top of his mouth.

  “You can be famous, Mr Wallace, only let these people go. Your problem is with me. It is I, who pressed the charges against you. If you let them go, you may do to me what you will,” Atwater pleaded.

  “No!” Phoebe burst out. “Robert. No.”

  “It’s what must be done, my love.” Atwater spoke to his wife, but his eyes sought Tom’s.

  “That would take the fun out of it, Your Grace. See, you will be tied up, in fact.” Wallace threw four lengths of rope to Carlisle. “You. Bind both of these men. Hands behind their backs. “Do it.” He raised his voice against Carlisle’s seeming hesitancy.”

  A slow tear coursed its way down Mary’s cheek followed by another and another. Phoebe stood defiant, and Tom and Atwater clenched their fists behind their backs to make their wrists as large as possible.

  There could be a chance, maybe, to wriggle out of the bindings once they were set.

  “I insist the ladies not be bound, Mr Wallace.”

  “Insist until your heart’s content. As I was saying, Your Grace,” Wallace made his way to Phoebe and held the side of the blade against her cheek, “I mean to kill your loved ones first. And slowly. So you can bask in the full measure of humility I am about to bestow upon you.” He pressed the tip of the knife into Phoebe’s apple cheek, piercing the skin. The tiny drop of blood coursed down her face much as Mary’s tears were doing the same.