Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess

by Daphne du Bois

  “Is it not a little early to go driving?” asked the duke, meeting her on the landing, where he was leaning indolently against the balustrade, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He was already dressed. Had he been waiting for her?

  Holly looked at him with a guarded expression, as though trying to work out how much he knew.

  “Not at all. I find I cannot sleep and I do believe all that crisp air will do me good.”

  “I don’t believe I asked yesterday: did you enjoy your card party?”

  “There was white soup,” said Holly tentatively, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

  “Indubitably there was. There always is.”

  They looked at each other a moment.

  “You are up early also.”

  “Yes, I have been working on the estate accounts, but now I think it is time to take a break.”

  “Then I hope you enjoy the respite,” said Holly, wondering if it wwas possible that he might not have heard of her upcoming race. She had been very sure that Avonbury would tell him.

  “I pray you will let me pass, for I really must go outside. It is very warm here in my driving dress.”

  The duke was tempted to ask her about her destination, but decided against tipping his hand too early in the game.

  “But of course, my dear.” He stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before letting her pass. It had become such a dear, familiar gesture. Her skin tingled at the brush of his fingers and she wondered that he hadn’t noticed the missing curl.

  Strathavon waited ten minutes after Holly departed the house before calling for his horse. He would easily overtake her in the saddle.

  With nothing for it, his lordship set out for the rendezvous point, wondering what possessed Holly to keep getting into these scrapes.

  He considered whether he really ought to challenge Wooley, not because the fool had demanded a lock of Holly’s hair for his prize, but because of the sheer inconvenience of the thing.

  *

  Holly arrived at the meeting point to find Lord Myles Wooley already there, dressed in a many-caped great-cloak that had to be the envy of every would-be dandy in attendance.

  His black and yellow curricle looked a flimsy thing next to the chestnut pair that stomped impatiently at the ground, as though eager to be off.

  It appeared that half of London had indeed turned up to see them off. Sir John was already at the starting point, and Holly gave him a cheery wave.

  She was intercepted by Wooley’s distinctive drawl before she could approach the baronet.

  “Good morning, Lady Strathavon,” Holly’s opponent said with a mocking smile. “I must say you look the very vision of loveliness in the twilight. I trust you have not forgotten my prize?”

  “You know perfectly well that I have not, Wooley. If I were you, I would pay less attention to my so-called loveliness, and more to those chestnuts you’re barely holding under control.” Holly kept her voice deliberately quiet, the better to deliver every biting nuance.

  She moved past him with imperial dignity and met the concerned eyes of Sir John.

  “Are you certain you mean to proceed with this madness?” he asked Holly with a resigned sigh that suggested he was already well aware of her answer.

  Holly gave him a confident smile. “Tell me, Sir John, do you remember when I first met you and we discussed how you might go about making your fortune?” she asked barely above a whisper.

  “I do,” said the baronet with a wary frown.

  “It so happens I have thought of a way. Ten thousand on the race should just about do it.”

  “Ten thousand? Now, Holly, I hope you realise that I would never bet on so appalling a thing.”

  “Yes, I know you wouldn’t. You are too nice in your sensibilities by far. But that is quite alright, as the bet has already been placed for you, and the money put forth.”

  “I cannot take your money, Holly, nor will I.”

  “I do understand. But fortunately it is not my money that was put forth, and so it won’t be mine when you win it.”

  “Then whose?”

  “That, I cannot say. You see, I am a lady of my word. But a favour was owed me, and I do think I’ve made very clever use of it,” she said with a pleased smile.

  She spotted Avonbury in the crowd. He was watching the road expectantly.

  Ah, so he had told the duke, she thought. I wonder what can be holding him up. Or did he decide to call my bluff?

  “Now, I do believe we had better get started,” Holly said in a louder voice. “Ready, Wooley? Remember, first one to Brighton wins all.”

  She returned her attention to her horses, concentrating on the road ahead.

  It was just as they were about to go careening off that Strathavon came flying along the Great North Road on his finest stallion, Penumbra.

  Holly did her best not to smile triumphantly at the sight of him, handsome and striking as he was.

  The duke’s arrival drew some murmurs from the crowd that had gathered more tightly to send the racers on their way and Lord Myles looked somewhat ashen.

  “I have borne with very many of your escapades, Holly, but on this I will put my foot down,” the duke said grimly, halting his steed just short of the Phaeton. “I won’t have my wife racing along the Great North Road like some ne’er-do-well out of Cambridge.”

  “Like yourself, then?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes, like myself… How did you know – never mind that now. I think I can guess. No matter. There will be no race today.”

  “Oh? I do think we had better take a short stroll,” she said, handing the reins to Sir John as she descended the short ladder from her carriage.

  The duke dismounted.

  “I hope you don’t think you will dissuade me – because I can assure you, it won’t happen. We are going home, Holly.”

  “We are.” By way of Brighton.

  She took his arm as they walked a little farther away together.

  “I do not think you meant to race at all,” said the duke. “I think you meant to provoke me, because you are a most vexing and insufferable creature.”

  His voice, however, was entirely lacking in venom and Holly felt her heart skip a beat as she gazed into his eyes. Strathavon looked grave and pale about the lips.

  “No? I beg to differ. But, Your Grace, I daresay you were concerned for me! Now what is it that has you so out of temper, exactly?”

  “You, of course. You have become the very bane of my existence – and I do believe you’ve been doing it on purpose. I did not think I could love you – because I did not wish to love anyone.” He chuckled grimly. “I see now how wrong I was for thinking love is a choice. Indeed, it is no such thing. It comes upon one just as a tide does – slowly, inevitably and mercilessly, until one finds that one lives only for that most burning affection. I know that I shall live for that love for the rest of my days. Avonbury tells me that you are much too good for me, and I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “You would listen to Avonbury on this head? In that case, I think you may be a trifle disguised,” Holly told him gently.

  “Not a thing of it.”

  “Well, we shall see. And it was on purpose – just as your own game was. I thought at first that I was only playing a part – but now I find that I like being the Duchess of Strathavon, and there is more of her in me than I expected. I always held that it would be dreary to be the wife of a peer, but I find I was mistaken.”

  “I am most gratified to hear that. Do you then mean to continue being one?” His voice was wry, but his eyes serious.

  She remembered that he’d said those words to her once before. Maybe he did mean them after all.

  “Yes, I rather think I might.”

  The duke looked momentarily uncertain before laughing and kissing her. His lips claimed hers before either of them could say another word, and for that moment the world reached an absolute pinnacle of perfection.

  He did not seem to care
a whit what their audience might think of this display.

  But oh, that last kiss was the most extraordinary yet, Holly decided. It was like thunderstorms, and hurricanes, and the grandest display of fireworks in the whole world.

  It was as if her heart had almost stopped from the sheer bliss of feeling his lips on hers.

  “I think I owe you yet another apology – for I have neglected in all this to-do to tell you that I love you. I know now, beyond any doubt or denial, that you are the dearest thing to me in the world. But what is the matter? You are crying!”

  “No, no,” murmured Holly, feeling embarrassed. “Or rather, I am – but it is a good thing.”

  “A good thing? If you say so, dearest. You must know, also, that I have discovered that it is only your love that matters to me, and your regard,” he said.

  “Then I think the only cure to our present troubles is to be love, Your Grace,” she ventured tentatively, looking up at him with a shyness he found extremely disarming, “Do you think you could bear such bittersweet medicine as that?”

  He looked at her intently a moment, taking her hand in his much larger one.

  “Most gladly.”

  Holly felt certain that such words ought to have tinged her skin with a blush, but that felt paltry, given everything that had happened.

  Her heart felt full of unbelievable joy and the most serene contentment she had ever known.

  “Well, I am glad we have cleared the air, but I fear, my love, that I must still drive my race, though I own I would much prefer to go home with you. I have given my word you see, and Lord Myles does have a claim on a lock of my hair. It is a debt of honour and I would loathe it if he were to win. Besides, Sir John has a considerable fortune riding on my winning – just enough to let him support a wife in very real comfort. He means Verity to know that he has no need of her portion when he offers for her, you see. ”

  “Compton placed a wager on you?”

  “Oh no! He wouldn’t have for anything in the world. So I had one placed for him. He’s hopelessly besotted with Verity, and has been trying very hard to win her regard this whole Season.”

  “I am surprised. I would have expected your Miss Dacre to take up with some puppy – a romantic second son,” the duke said.

  “Don’t be so coxcombish,” Holly scoffed. “She needed only to see sense.”

  The duke’s eyes flared with understanding. “And that is the explanation for most of your theatricals this Season. I see now. It was very wicked of you to play such a game. But I must stand by what I said – I won’t permit my wife to race her chariot to Brighton against a known scoundrel.”

  Holly nodded. “Very sensible. But how shall we go on then? I know! Maybe, since you won’t have your wife participating in such an infamous endeavour alone, you would care to sit beside her instead? That would be a very different matter.”

  “I beg your pardon, sit beside you?”

  “Yes – while I drive. My horses are very good and it shan’t make much difference. A heavier carriage is better on the road as it is now, anyway. Lord Myles, however, it too tight on the bit and I do think his curricle not steady enough to overtake us. We have a very good chance of winning.”

  “I don’t think there’s ever been a bride like you in all the history of the world.”

  “No? Your mother was a very wilful woman even in her youth, you know.” Holly thought of the pages and pages of memories that had brought her such comfort. It was time to share.

  “My mother! However could you know that?”

  Her eyes were bright with a secret smile. “I’ll show you when we get home. Now, we mustn’t keep the on-lookers waiting.”

  His Grace the Duke of Strathavon could only attribute what happened next to a momentary lapse of sanity and propriety, for he found himself handing his horse over to Sir John, and taking his place next to Holly in the carriage.

  When she handed him her handkerchief with the lock of hair that would never be Wooley’s prize, he wondered if this little lapse was the first of many.

  Then, they were off. As Holly expertly guided her Phaeton to victory, Sylvester remembered how good it felt to be flying across country with the wind in his hair.

  The race was easily the most fun he had had in years, and he found that he did not even mind the dust on the road as they overtook Wooley. His blood coursed with excitement, matching the thundering of the horses’ hooves.

  “There is only one problem I foresee, Sylvester,” Holly said, when they had at last arrived in Brighton well ahead of Lord Myles.

  “And what would that be? Convincing Compton to collect his winnings?”

  “No, that is all taken care of. I do anticipate a winter wedding for them. In the snow. It will be very pretty.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “You seem to have decided that I am something out of the common way, I fear. But you see, the trouble is that I am not really wonderful at all. In fact, I would venture to say that I shall only grow more dull with time,” Holly said, with an alluring smile about her lips. She was reeling him in on purpose and enjoying every moment.

  He returned an alluring smile of his own.

  “Then we are well-matched after all, and it is only right that we should grow dull together,” said the duke, laughing that genuine laugh she had come to adore.

  They watched the busy streets around them for a while.

  “Lady Louisa said that love is a game of deception and illusion – but I think she is wrong. There could never be any such between us, because at last I think you know my heart as I know yours,” Holly told Sylvester quietly.

  Love really was what you made of it, she decided.

  There could be no greater felicity than in knowing that she and Strathavon were joined together for the rest of their lives. There was a bond of love between them that it would be impossible to sever.

  To share in passion and memory, and to stand together against all the world if they had to.

  It was, she thought happily, nothing less than love.

  Fin.

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you so much for taking a chance on my book, and I very much hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s always an honour to know that people are reading my stories. Hopefully, this book has made your day just a little bit brighter!

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review for it on Amazon – it doesn’t have to be a long one, but positive customer reviews are the best way to attract new readers and to help them gage if it’s a book they’d like to try. Your review will be greatly appreciated.

  I also love to hear from my readers and you can get in touch by emailing me at msdaphnedubois@gmail.com. You can also connect with me on Twitter (@MsDaphneduBois) or Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/MsDaphneduBois).

  Have a great day and happy reading!

  Daphne

  Acknowledgements

  As usual, there are a lot of very dear people who have made this book possible, and I’m grateful to every one of them.

  Firstly, I’d like to thank my amazing family for all their love and their incredible support in the past year. I would also like to thank Ali and Chantelle for having my back, believing in me, stuck and all the many ways they’ve helped me. Besties and sisters doesn’t begin to describe them.

  Thanks to Richard, who proofread this thing when he had so much of his own work to do, and who took an interest in the story and championed Byron. Huge thanks to Kim for running around London with me, for all those hours of watching middle class Batman and all her other generosity and support.

  I’d also like to thank Alex for bouncing ideas, pointing out all the times I was being ridiculous and being totally team Daphne.

  Heartfelt thanks to Nancy Jo and my many other internet, writing and blogging friends for your invaluable insight into the story.

  About the Author

  Daphne has always had a passion for novels and history and one day i
t occurred to her: what better way to use her English Literature degree than to write about Regency romps and romance? She hasn’t looked back since. Admittedly, her addiction to all things Jane Austen from a very young age had probably somewhat informed her choice of subject matter…

  Daphne has stacks of notebooks full of stories that still need to be written, which she insists on bringing with her when she moves around the world (she’s done this a lot!). She likes her books full of romance, adventure, witty repartee and a dash of silly humour. When Daphne isn’t writing, she can be found painting, picnicking, reading and listening to all sorts of exciting music.

  She also writes fantasy under the pen name Emily de Courcy.

  You can email Daphne at msdaphnedubois@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @MsDaphneduBois. She pins pretty and interesting things at: http://www.pinterest.com/daphnedubois/boards/

  If you enjoyed His Wayward Duchess:

  The Scoundrel’s Secret Siren, by Daphne du Bois When bored Miss Lorelei Lindon sneaks out in the middle of the night in search of ghosts, she finds rather more than she bargained for in the enigmatic Lord Winbourne. And when he does a dastardly thing and steals her treasured necklace as a memento of their midnight encounter, she must find a way to retrieve it without causing a scandal.

  Throw in a few well-meaning relatives, a niece stubbornly caught up in her own romantic dilemmas and duel to the death, and Lorelei’s life will surely never be boring again…

  The Rogue’s Reluctant Rose, by Daphne du Bois Miss Araminta Barrington, clever, pretty and unexpectedly poor, bravely decides to sacrifice her own happiness in a marriage of convenience, in order to save her family from certain ruin. She sets out to win a proposal from the wealthy Sir Timothy Stanton while struggling with her guilt over using a good man so poorly.

  Just when success is in sight, she catches the eye of Jasper Devereaux, the scandalous Marquis of Chestleton, whose own growing fascination with the enigmatic young woman compels him to pursue her at all costs. If he can only win her into his bed, his absurd fascination will surely evaporate!