Daring to Love the Duke's Heir

by Janice Preston

  ‘I miss him, Romeo. I thought nothing could weaken the bond we shared, but now I don’t know how to mend it. I hate London.’ She’d been content before they came here. Numb, but content. ‘I wish we’d never come here.’

  ‘Liberty?’

  She froze and desperately gulped back her sorrow as Gideon came into the room and sat on the floor next to her. He handed her his handkerchief and put his arms around her, pulling her close.

  ‘Don’t cry, Sis. You never cry.’ She hid her face against his chest and hot tears flowed anew. ‘I heard what you said. This is my fault.’

  She shook her head, but he took no notice. ‘Please don’t cry. I know I’ve been selfish. I’m so sorry—I never thought how it must bring it all back to you, being in London again. Look.’ He tilted her face up, his expression serious. ‘I don’t deny all this went to my head at first, but I will behave better. I promise. Our bond is not broken. It will never break, but it will change. It is inevitable. You do see that, don’t you?’

  Liberty nodded, then dried her face on his handkerchief.

  ‘And I’ll say no more about the dog. I promise. I can always buy new slippers and I’ll make sure the others know he’s welcome to stay.’

  ‘Th-thank you.’

  She bit her lip against the confession that her tears were not entirely about Gideon and not at all about the arguments over Romeo. It was no use admitting the real cause, because no one could help her and her family’s pity would be far more painful than enduring her heartbreak alone.

  Gideon handed Liberty a sealed note. ‘Lady Olivia has sent a message—her footman is waiting for your reply.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Liberty broke the seal.

  ‘Olivia has asked if I would care to join her to promenade in the Park this afternoon,’ she told Gideon.

  ‘Shall you go?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Her spirits lifted even as anticipation and hopelessness warred in her mind—Dominic was likely to be in the Park at that hour, too, but he would no doubt be discreetly courting one, or more, of his contenders. Anticipation won that battle. Any glimpse, any contact, was better than none. And she did enjoy Olivia’s company—she would help keep Liberty from chasing impossible dreams.

  ‘I’ll escort you there if you like,’ said Gideon.

  ‘You are not riding today?’ Liberty asked as she headed for the small writing desk to reply to Olivia.

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Then I accept. Thank you.’ Liberty penned a quick acceptance to Olivia, agreeing to meet her in the Park at four o’clock.

  ‘Maybe we could ride in the Park together one afternoon soon?’

  Liberty laughed. ‘Only if you can hire me a better beast than the ones Hope and Verity ended up with. They told me all about it.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Gideon said. ‘They were a poor couple of plodders...bad enough for our sisters, but hardly suited to a rider of your ability.’ Gideon held out his hand. ‘I’ll take that to Lady Olivia’s man for you.’

  Pleasure at his compliment warmed Liberty as she handed over the folded note. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  An hour later, Liberty walked to the Park with Gideon and met Olivia, as arranged, just inside the gates.

  ‘I thought you might have brought your new dog,’ Olivia said with a smile as they strolled among the crowds. ‘Hugo told me all about it and how you rescued him from that cruel brute.’

  Liberty gazed around. Some ladies did indeed have dogs on leads, or in their carriages.

  ‘I am not certain Romeo is quite respectable enough for promenading in the Park,’ she said.

  ‘Romeo? Is that his name? Oh, I cannot wait to meet him. And don’t worry whether he’s respectable enough. You have every right to walk your dog here. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.’

  Spoken like a true duke’s daughter.

  ‘Maybe I shall.’

  A few paces further on they met Dominic, Lady Sybilla on his arm. Liberty’s heart sank and jealousy clawed her. She curtsied, Dominic bowed and Olivia and Sybilla inclined their heads graciously.

  ‘Such a pleasant afternoon for a walk,’ said Sybilla.

  ‘Indeed,’ Olivia responded.

  ‘Mama and I had the intention of driving around the carriageway, but Lord Avon persuaded me to walk with him instead and Mama gave her permission. Is Lord Hugo not accompanying you this afternoon, Lady Olivia?’

  ‘As you see, he is not,’ Olivia replied gravely. ‘He is otherwise engaged, I am afraid.’

  ‘That is regrettable.’ A slight smile touched Lady Sybilla’s lips. ‘However, one cannot expect one’s husband to dance attendance upon one all of the time, can one?’

  Liberty risked a glance at Dominic. His face was impassive, but his silver eyes betrayed a hint of resignation.

  ‘No, indeed,’ Olivia agreed.

  ‘We ought perhaps to keep moving, Lady Sybilla,’ said Dominic. ‘It would not do to catch a chill.’

  ‘Good heavens, no.’ She tinkled a laugh. ‘That would indeed be unfortunate this early in the Season.’ She inclined her head again. ‘Good afternoon to you both, Lady Olivia; Miss Lovejoy.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Olivia tucked her arm through Liberty’s as they strolled away. ‘Although my brother is nothing but discreet, I do fear he is now angling towards Sybilla Gratton as first choice.’

  Dominic’s list was the very last thing Liberty wished to dwell on, but at the same time the subject drew her back like a magnet.

  ‘I thought his preference was for Lady Caroline?’

  ‘Her attitude after that business between your sister and Bridlington at the Twyfords’ ball changed his mind, I believe.’

  ‘I see.’ Liberty was glad Dominic had seen through Caroline, but she knew very little about Lady Sybilla other than she was the eldest daughter of the Duke of Wragby and she always appeared perfectly poised and calm. In other words, perfect for Dominic’s bride. ‘You do not approve?’

  ‘I do not. She is like a...like a statue carved out of ice.’ Olivia huffed in disgust. ‘I have never seen a natural expression on her face nor heard an unconsidered word leave her lips. Not that I have known her long, for her family were late coming up to town, but still... Poor Dominic will be frozen out of bed by that one.’ She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oops. I apologise. I should not talk to you like that. I keep forgetting you are unmarried.’

  Liberty couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I am not so easily shocked, Olivia. But you cannot deny she meets all of your brother’s requirements. She’s the daughter of a duke and her upbringing, manners and behaviour are impeccable.’

  ‘She is...oh, I don’t know! She is so false, somehow. I wonder if she even knows what joy is? How will she ever make him happy?’

  ‘I don’t believe his own happiness features very highly on your brother’s list of requirements.’

  ‘But it should. Oh, Liberty... I don’t how I shall do it but, somehow, I must find a way to persuade him to think again, even though I know very well he will not listen to me.’ Olivia swished her closed parasol in a gesture of frustration. ‘Not one of them is right for him, but he is so stubborn and he will not listen to sense...he just accuses me of meddling! But all I want is for him to be happy, as I am with my Hugo. But it is like Alex says...once Dominic has set his mind on a course of action he is the very devil to divert from it.’

  ‘But...’ Liberty ignored her inner voice that shrieked at her to change the subject. ‘But...what if he, say, met someone and fell in love?’

  ‘Hah! You don’t know my brother and his...his...blinkeredness! He believes the wife of a future duke should be chosen with the head, not the heart. He will marry for the sake of the Dukedom, not for himself.’

  ‘Could your father not talk to him, if you ask him
to?’

  ‘I doubt Papa will interfere,’ said Olivia gloomily. ‘His whole life, Dominic has done his utmost to be the perfect son and the perfect heir—constantly aware of his responsibility as Papa’s heir. If Papa was to say Don’t marry Lady X, marry Lady Y, Dominic would do just that to please Papa. That’s not choosing with his heart. And Papa knows he would do it, too. So he won’t risk interfering. Oh...how I wish Aunt Cecily were here. She might talk some sense into Dom, but she and Zach aren’t coming for another three weeks at least. It’ll be too late by then.

  ‘No. I don’t know how I shall contrive it, but I must try. Someone has to do something.’ She lapsed into a brooding silence before adding, ‘Oh, and talking of Dominic... Hugo and I are going to visit Westfield tomorrow. Would you care to join us?’

  ‘I would love to—as long as your brother will not object to my accompanying you?’

  ‘Why should he? Hugo is happy for you to accompany us and I don’t suppose Dominic will even be there. He’ll be too busy courting his blasted list of perfect brides.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The following afternoon, Dominic entered the schoolroom at Westfield where Mrs Whittaker was supervising the children at their lessons. He pulled up a low chair next to Tommy, who he knew struggled with his reading. Westfield prided itself on teaching both letters and numbers to the children in its care—not to make scholars of them, but to prepare them to become useful members of society, able to earn their living. And that was where Dominic and Felicity were invaluable, in helping to place the older children in positions with tradesmen or in households where they had the opportunity to better themselves with hard work. But Dominic also loved to spend time helping the individual children when he could—and, just at this moment, it was exactly what he needed to take his mind off his dilemma.

  The past few days had been thoroughly dispiriting. He had spent time with all five ladies from his original list and the only thing he was certain of was that he was less sure of his ultimate decision now than he had been a week ago. But speculation in society was rife and he would look a dithering fool if he did not proceed when the talk was of nothing else. And yet he still hesitated over making that final, irreversible decision.

  Make me proud, my Son. You were born to be the Duke...never disgrace your position in society...the eyes of the world will be on you. Judging you. Never let them see weakness.

  His mother’s strictures when he was a boy. The demands he had striven to obey as a boy, desperate for her love and approval...the same demands that had driven him to follow his duty all his life, ever conscious of his responsibility to his heritage, his mother’s memory and to the family name.

  But, also, the gentleman in him rebelled against insulting the ladies on his list with the implication that not one of them was up to his standards. He was eager to set up his nursery—that was the one bright, hopeful thing in this mess—and he knew he’d be in a worse position if he delayed until later in the year, or even until next Season. The same names would be on any list he drew up, only now they would be aware of his reluctance. And the name he longed to include—Liberty Lovejoy—would still not be on his list. Her maternal grandfather would still be a coal merchant.

  You are the Marquess of Avon. You will be Duke of Cheriton one day, and your son and your son’s son. That is your destiny. Do not allow the weakness of base desires to contaminate the bloodline—it is your duty to keep it pure.

  His father would arrive in town within a fortnight. By then, the decision would be made. That had been his plan from the beginning of the Season when he had been keen to get on with his selection and to start his own family. But now he simply felt numb as his well-ordered plans appeared to fragment around him.

  He pushed his worries aside and pointed to the word apple written on the slate.

  ‘Try again,’ he said.

  Tommy scowled down at the slate. He’d not long been at Westfield, having been referred by the magistrates’ court after being arrested as a pickpocket...his first offence.

  ‘Sound out each letter...you know the sounds they make, Tommy. Come on. You can do this. I have faith in you.’

  He barely registered the sound of the door opening until he heard Peter Whittaker—who owned and ran Westfield with his wife, Jane—say, ‘And this is the schoolroom.’

  Dominic glanced around, then shot to his feet as he saw Liberty, her eyes huge and riveted on him. He felt the colour build in his face and he gritted his teeth as he struggled to control his suddenly erratic breathing and to keep the smile in his heart from reaching his lips.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Lovejoy.’ He bowed. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’

  He nodded at Hugo and Olivia—whom he had expected—and who followed Liberty into the room.

  ‘I invited Liberty to come with us.’ Olivia smiled happily. ‘I knew you would not object and she is very interested in Westfield.’

  Is she indeed?

  He was somewhat gratified to see Liberty’s blush. At least it wasn’t just him who felt awkward. But he also caught a glint of surprise in her eyes...she hadn’t expected him to be here? Or was her surprise that he was helping teach the children?

  ‘Why should I object?’

  Olivia crossed the room to him. ‘Well, you are so very close-chested about this sort of thing, Dom, you know you are. Does Lady Sybilla know of your connection with Westfield?’

  Beyond Olivia, he could see Hugo questioning Peter as Liberty listened intently.

  ‘Why would I mention it to Lady Sybilla?’ How did Olivia know Sybilla had been his favourite until his current state of indecision? He’d taken such care not to single out any one lady more than another. ‘Or to anyone else, come to that?’

  ‘Why indeed? Your Lady Sybilla has about as much compassion in her as that statue of Venus in the British Museum—I cannot see her ever sharing your interest in the welfare of these poor children, Dom.’

  Dominic bit back his frustration.

  ‘Shouldn’t you go and listen to Mr Whittaker, Livvy? I thought Hugo brought you here to find out about Westfield, didn’t he? Not to plague me about that dam—dratted list.’

  ‘Of course he did, silly! I didn’t even know you would be here. I’ll see you later.’

  With a quick smile, she returned to the others, where Peter was explaining the workings of the school and what they hoped to achieve for their children. Dominic returned his attention to Tommy and his reading.

  Finally, realising Tommy’s concentration was drifting, Dominic stood up and realised, with a start of surprise, that although Peter’s voice had long since fallen silent and he had assumed the entire group had left the schoolroom, Liberty was still there, crouching by the side of another, younger, lad, and helping him with his reading. His heart lurched as she smiled up at him.

  ‘Little Ronnie here is doing very well, Lord Avon, but I think he is growing a little weary. Would you mind...?’

  She reached out to him and he took her dainty hand in his. He helped her to rise, stifling the urge to press his lips to her palm, and released it the second she gained her feet.

  ‘Thank you. I am grateful you are here, for my legs had grown quite stiff with crouching down like that and I feared a most inelegant lurch to my feet.’

  Her smile twinkled in her eyes.

  ‘I was unaware you were still in the room.’

  ‘Mr Whittaker offered Hugo and Olivia a tour of the place, but I preferred to remain here, with the children.’ She hesitated. Then touched his arm. ‘This is admirable...that both you and Lady Stanton have been involved in this place for so long. I...’ She paused before continuing, ‘It’s not what I would ever have expected of...’

  ‘Of a man like me?’ He didn’t wait for her reply. A glance at the room showed the children paying more attention to them than to their lessons. ‘Come. Let us leave Mrs Whittaker to teac
h in peace. We are disrupting her lesson.’ He sent a smile across the room to Peter’s wife, then ushered Liberty out into a passage and towards the entrance hall, where the afternoon sun sent beams of coloured light through the stained-glass windows either side of the front door. ‘We can wait here for the others—or we can go and find them if you prefer?’

  ‘No.’ She stared at him, a light of calculation in those beautiful midnight-blue eyes of hers. Her throat rippled as she swallowed. ‘There is something I should like to say to you.’

  So serious. A shiver of disquiet rippled across the skin of his back.

  ‘I... I...’

  He moved closer, breathing in her scent. Roses—they no longer exclusively recalled his childhood and his mother but, increasingly, brought the image of Liberty Lovejoy into his thoughts.

  ‘It is not like you to be hesitant, Berty. I thought you were unafraid of any subject, or any man.’

  She sucked in a breath. ‘It is about your list.’

  He felt his forehead bunch. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I...’ She paused. Gold-flecked midnight-blue eyes searched his and then her lips set in a determined line. ‘I am worried about the...the...singlemindedness of your plan.’

  ‘My plan is actually none of your concern.’ He heard the finality in his tone, sensed the barrier rise up between them. ‘Do you not believe me capable of making the right decision?’

  ‘I just feel... I am worried...’ A frustrated growl rattled in her throat. ‘Surely by sticking so rigidly to this list of yours, you are limiting your choice of bride?’

  ‘But that is the idea. It is all about finding the perfect bride.’

  She frowned at him. A puzzled frown, not angry. ‘But why not just choose the lady you like best?’

  He set his jaw, feeling his own frown deepen. ‘What do you mean?’

  Liberty sighed, a gust of exasperation. ‘Exactly what I say. Who—do—you—like—best?’

  He tensed. ‘That is neither here nor there. Personal taste doesn’t come into it.’