A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency)
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A Sinful Duke she can’t Refuse
A Steamy Regency Romance
Olivia Bennet
Edited by
Robin Spencer
Contents
A Thank You Gift
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
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
A Ravishing Night with the Mysterious Earl
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Olivia Bennet
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Olivia Bennet
About the Book
For she had eyes and she chose him...
Isabella Addison, daughter of the Viscount of Gefferton, is forced to marry a hideous man...or so she thinks. Her view of the world changes entirely the day she meets him for the very first time.
Emanuel Beckett, Duke of Helmsfield, lost himself twenty years ago—the day his parents were killed and his leg was amputated. Enraged by the upcoming marriage his aunt arranged without his consent, he realizes he has no other choice but to comply.
But a smoldering attraction between them burns all initial doubts and a relentless courting begins...
When an unexpected encounter awakens old memories for Emmanuel, he realises Isabella was the one holding the key to his redemption all along. In the blink of an eye, he will be led to the moment he had been waiting for his entire life: finding out what really happened the night his parents died.
Chapter 1
A Chance Meeting
Diana Addison, Viscountess of Gefferton sat down at the table to write to her dear friend Helen, who she had not seen since they were both debutantes, nigh on thirty years ago.
She paused, marveling at how fast time flew. The last time they were together, both were unmarried and breathlessly hopeful of catching a man’s eye during the Season. Now they were wives and mothers, whose husbands served at Whitehall together. It was quite unfortunate that they had not seen each other in all that time.
She had heard at Lady Caldwell’s Venetian breakfast that Helen, Lady Edric Beckett, was in Town, seeking a bride for her nephew. There was a lot of talk as to why her nephew—whom Diana understood was a Duke, and extremely well off—would not simply participate in the Season. Quite a lot of conjecture, some of it very uncharitable, had been bandied about as to why this was so. Some said he was utterly hideous, while others had heard rumors that he was crippled. The on-dits were rather varied and some quite vicious. Diana felt bad for her former friend.
If, indeed, Lady Edric was seeking a bride for her nephew, Diana might know just the girl.
“Mother? Have you seen my book? I cannot seem to find it.” Her daughter, Isabella, walked absentmindedly into the room, eyes everywhere except on her mother, searching for whatever book she had lost.
“No, I have not seen your book. I do not know which book you have currently pilfered from your father’s library. I suspect that if the servants ran across it as they cleaned, then they would have done the proper thing and returned it.”
Her daughter sighed at her, large aggrieved brown eyes regarding her with disappointment. She tossed her chestnut hair haughtily over her shoulder, causing it to cascade in waves down her narrow back, framing her pale skin quite lovingly and highlighting the freckles across her nose. “I was reading it, Mother. They cannot just...take things as they please.”
“Well, if you’re reading it, perhaps you shouldn’t leave it lying about.”
Isabella glared daggers at her before she turned and flounced dramatically out of the room. Diana shook her head resignedly and with a sigh, returned to her letter. Yes, she was convinced that she and Helen could help each other. Helen required a bride for her nephew and Diana required a groom for her Isabella—bluestocking that she was, her daughter would probably not get married otherwise.
* * *
Emmanuel limped tiredly up the front steps, the edge of his prosthetic leg digging into the tip of his stump and causing him pain. He wanted nothing more than to take it off and rest. Pulling at his beard to distract himself, he absently nodded to the butler who greeted him as he walked through the front door. The butler was reaching for Emmanuel’s coat but he demurred, not wanting to stop until he could sit down.
Stevens, the butler, obligingly followed him down the hall to his bed chamber. Because of the nature of his injury, this sometimes made climbing stairs a bit of a chore; it made sense to have his bed chamber on the first floor, right next to his study.
Stevens waited—poised to help if needed—until Emmanuel had fallen into his leather armchair, before crossing to the armoire where a tray of drinks waited, to pour the Duke of Helmsfield a brandy.
“Where’s Andrews?” Emmanuel looked up at Stevens as he handed him his drink.
“Your valet shall be down momentarily, Your Grace. I have sent for him.”
“Good man, Stevens. What would I do without you?”
Stevens gave a stiff nod and the very ghost of a smile. “I expect you would manage, Your Grace.”
Emmanuel opened his mouth to reply but at that moment the door opened and Andrews stepped in. He helped His Grace take off his breeches and then proceeded to unstrap his prosthetic leg at waist and thigh.
“Shall I bring your soothing cream, Your Grace?” he asked as soon as he had set the leg to lean against Emmanuel’s chair.
“If you would be so kind, my good man.”
The door had scarcely closed behind Andrews when a tentative knock had Stevens opening it again to take the tray proferred. He placed it on the table so that it was accessible without Emmanuel having to move anything but his arm.
“Some refreshments to tide you over until dinner time. I believe your aunt has invited company.”
Emmanuel sighed. “What kind of company?”
“A Lady Gefferton, I believe.”
Emmanuel slumped further into his seat in defeat. “Will Lord Edric be joining us for this dinner?”
Stevens cleared his throat to disguise his amused smile. “I believe he said something about a meeting at White’s.”
Emmanuel grimaced. “Coward. He would leave me to parry his wife’s friends on my own?”
Stevens almost grinned. “He said to tell you that he would have invited you along but Lady Edric was quite adamant that you attend her dinner.”
>
Emmanuel frowned in suspicion. He loved his aunt, but her endless scheming to ‘ensure his happiness’ as she put it, was wearing on his soul. He had been quite content to sit out this trip to Town, but she had been quite insistent that a man of two-and-twenty could not be left to potter about on his own at his vast Helmsfield estate. Oh no, the only thing for it was for him to accompany his aunt and uncle for the Season.
When he had pish-poshed that notion, she had declared that she and Lord Edric were far too old to be traveling on their own. Would he abandon his own living relatives...and on and on. It had been easier to simply give in to her demands.
He and Uncle Edric had learned early on that doing whatever Aunt Helen said was the quickest path to peace.
He just did not see why he had to sup with her friends while Uncle Edric went free. There was no doubt about it; Aunt Helen was up to something.
“Stevens? Pass me the bottle of brandy, would you please? If I am to dine with the Devil, I must fortify myself.”
Stevens inclined his head, “Yes, Your Grace.” He went to the drinks tray, retrieved the rest of the brandy, and put it carefully down next to Emmanuel’s glass.
“Is there anything else I may get you, Your Grace? Some laudanum, perhaps?”
Emmanuel shook his head. “Thank you, but no. The brandy alone will do.”
Andrews came back in, brandishing the soothing cream triumphantly. Stevens bowed to Emmanuel. “I shall leave you to it, then.”
He walked out of the room, leaving Andrews to rub the cream carefully into Emmanuel’s stump. The Duke leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, determined to enjoy what peace was available to him before his aunt’s latest scheme came to fruition.
* * *
“Emmanuel dear, so glad you could join us,” his Aunt Helen said, as he walked into the drawing room later that evening.
He smiled as well as he could while still feeling quite put out about having to be there. “I would not have missed it for the world.”
His aunt turned to their guest with a smile. “May I introduce my nephew, Emmanuel Beckett, Duke of Helmsfield?”
The lady curtsied with a smile. “Very pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”
“And this is Diana Addison, Viscountess of Gefferton,” Aunt Helen said to Emmanuel.
He bowed to her. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Gefferton.”
The ladies took a seat and then Emmanuel followed. There was an awkward moment where both Lady Gefferton and his aunt began speaking at the same time. Emmanuel smiled, wondering at the air of tension in the room. He cocked an eyebrow at them both.
“Lady Gefferton and I knew each other back when we were both still debutantes. She very kindly wrote to me when she heard that we were in Town.”
“How nice to have a reunion with an old friend. I expect you have much to talk about. Perhaps I should—?”
“Oh no, no, no, Nephew. Stay.” His aunt knew exactly what he was trying to do. “I’ve just been telling dear Lady Gefferton everything about you and she was so eager to make your acquaintance.”
Emmanuel’s brow furrowed with concern, not inclined to believe any of that. Nevertheless, he endeavored to smile and prepared to be as sociable as he could manage.
* * *
Isabella looked up as her mother came into her room, smiling in welcome. “Did you have a good dinner?”
Diana smiled. “I had an excellent dinner, my dear, thank you so much for asking.”
Isabella frowned in confusion at the air of happiness bubbling around her mother. “You’re welcome.”
She waited for her mother to say something else to explain her excessive joy, but Diana simply stood bouncing on her feet and smiling widely at Isabella. It was most strange.
After waiting a while with no forthcoming clarifications, Isabella returned to her reading of Gulliver’s Travels. A story that was also quite strange, and unbelievable.
“Isabella?” her mother spoke just as she was sinking back into Lilliput. She looked up with barely disguised annoyance. “Yes, Mother?”
“I have some news for you. I hope you will like it.”
“Indeed, Mother? What is it?”
Diana took a deep breath and closed her eyes; when she opened them they were shining with glee. “I think I have found you a husband.”
Isabella blinked incredulously at her mother. “I beg your pardon?”
Diana leaned forward, sighing with happiness. “I said, I think I have found you a husband.”
The color drained from Isabella’s cheeks and she felt her hands go cold with the shock of it. “No.”
Diana stiffened, looking taken aback. “What do you mean, no?”
Isabella’s nerveless fingers let the book drop to the carpet. She got to her feet. “Mother, I am a grown woman of almost one-and-twenty and that means I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind. You cannot simply present me with your choice of husband as if we are barbarians.”
Her mother was not going to stand for it. “Isabella, you have shown no interest in any man. Your father and I are getting on in years. You know that. All your sisters are married and settled. It is just you. We are beginning to fear that we shall pass away before you choose a groom. It is time, Isabella, and he's a good man.”
“Who is this man who'd agreed to marry me sight unseen? What is wrong with him? Is he some kind of ogre? Or is it some old man in search of one more wife to warm his bed as he dies?”
Diana frowned. “Don’t be crude, Isabella.”
Isabella pouted. “Well, then, tell me. Who is this man?”
“He is the nephew of a friend of mine, a Duke even, and very amiable. You shall like him.” She puffed herself up. “And I take great exception to the notion that I would throw you to the wolves, Isabella Caroline Addison.”
Isabella had the grace to look shamefaced. “I apologize, Mother, but it is a shock. You had not even said anything about looking for a husband for me.”
“I was not looking. But when Lady Edric invited me to dinner and introduced me to her nephew, I knew you would make an excellent match. Lady Edric agreed with me.”
“And what does this Duke have to say for himself?”
Diana looked away. “You shall have plenty of time to find that out, my dear.”
Isabella narrowed her eyes at her mother. She knew her mother well, including all her little quirks.
What are you hiding from me, Mother?
She knew there was something afoot because Lady Gefferton was behaving too strange for this to be a run-of-the-mill matchmaking venture. It was not like her mother to be so evasive while making sure to reveal the man’s most obvious attribute, that he was a Duke.
Is the title supposed to compensate for some horrible failing? Oh dear…I really hope not.
Isabella trusted her mother, she did, but she could not shake the feeling that there was more going on than she was being told. She could not help being suspicious. With all the stories that she read, with devious villains getting one over the hero or heroine, it was almost second nature to her now.
In this story, this Duke is definitely the villain.
Already, he was casting a long, dark shadow in her life and they had yet to meet.
Isabella had no real interest in marriage, an institution she knew was inescapable. At her coming out, her mind had been filled with visions of Prince Charmings who would come and sweep her off her feet. They would understand her passion for books and even share it. It would be something they had in common that would cement an everlasting love for each other.
However, throughout that first Season, she had met not one man who fitted her criteria. Over the years, her disillusionment had only deepened. Her parents indulged her foibles for she was the last-born child. She had always known it could not last forever.
Isabella hoped fervently that her prospective husband would at least let her keep her books.
* * *
“Good morning, Emmanuel. I trust the new day fi
nds you well?”
Emmanuel nodded. “Aunt,” he said shortly.