The duke’s scandalous brother (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 17)

by Regina Darcy

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  BONUS CHAPTER 1:A FORGETFUL GOVERNESS FOR THE DUKE

  KEEP IN TOUCH!

  Copyright © Regina Darcy 2017

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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  ONE

  Miss Arabella Grace Cartwright was nervous, more nervous than she had been in her entire life. Clutching her bag close to her chest as the mail coach made its way towards the small posting inn, Arabella let out a long breath. This was the last step towards her destination.

  It was her first time this far out, towards Swindon and Bath. The excitement of finally meeting her employer and his charges was setting in. However, at the same time, Arabella was growing a little anxious. Two months of preparation and anticipation meant she had no illusions about what challenges her employment would bring. Being a governess was not going to be an easy position.

  She knew very well that the Duke of Ainsley would expect her accomplishments and manners to be impeccable, all the while expecting that she kept her place. Arabella nervously started fiddling with her gloves.

  By misfortune, this position could make her the object of inadequate charity, useless compassion, and offensive condescension. Her station in the household would not be high enough to keep company with the Duke and his peers, nor low enough to keep company with the servants.

  Arabella was worried that she would grow a little lonely. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked out the window and tried to keep herself calm and composed.

  A hard thing to achieve, when she was far from home on her own. She continued fiddling with her gloves.

  Women rarely travelled without a chaperone, unless their situation was entirely untenable. Thoughts of her desperate circumstances flitted into her mind, but Arabella swiftly batted them away. She would not give into melancholy or flights of fancy.

  Unfortunately for Arabella, she had a very vivid imagination. In fact, she had spent the last five hours imagining all sorts of things that might happen to her: being flitted away by a highway robber, being stuck, cold and frightened, in the wilderness with a broken carriage. Lifting her chin, she continued to stare out of the window, reminding herself that papa would chide her so, if he had been here. Her heart squeezed with longing as she thought of his smiling face. She would miss him more than her siblings.

  Arabella was the sixth daughter of one of the parish preachers in Gloucestershire, which meant that she had always lived in the shadow of the needs of the church, the congregation, and her other siblings.

  Her family and, particularly, her father had been Arabella’s entire world for the last nineteen years. Although her Papa was a man of the cloth, he still had a great fondness for the outdoors.

  Arabella was the only one of his children that was interested in spending time with him in the garden; planting seeds and devising ways of makings their small garden crop grow even more. That had been their special time. It had given her a great deal of wonderful childhood memories.

  At the thought of her Papa, Arabella smiled to herself. If only she had been more devoted to his teachings, as he’d so often lamented. Perhaps then, she might have been able to give up her less than proper behaviours.

  Truth be told, Arabella didn’t think any of her comportment was improper, but according to her sisters, she was sorely mistaken. Apparently climbing an oak tree to retrieve Mrs Franklin’s runaway cat was not something any young lady should be doing. They even found fault with her need to be outdoors, shocked at the occasional freckle that would appear on her face. To make her list of inadequacies even longer, she struggled to remember all her scriptures. Everyone else in the family could quote large passages of the Bible, all except Arabella.

  Part of the problem had been her lack of concentration in church during her papa’s sermons. It wasn’t that she thought they were tedious or that stories of the good Lord bored her. It was simply that her thoughts would start wandering. She was ashamed to admit she spent an excessive amount of time daydreaming in church.

  Now, her older sisters: Mary, Anna, Emma, Margaret, and Sarah, were all the very picture of womanly virtue. Beautiful as could be, poised, God-fearing, and soft-spoken.

  Arabella bit her lip. Did her sisters not have any shortcomings at all? Having thought about it for what seemed like an eternity, she realised she could not think of one. Perhaps that was why her eldest sister had made a very favourable marriage match and her second sister, Sarah, was engaged to a very eligible gentleman, with their wedding set for the end of the year.

  At the thought, Arabella winced again. Why did she persist in reminiscing about all the things she had done wrong and how short she came compared to her sisters? Despite giving herself a stern scolding, her thoughts insisted on lingering on how she had managed to find herself halfway across the country, without so much as a chaperone.

  It all seemed like a lifetime ago. It had happened on the day Sarah officially announced her engagement. A bitter realisation had suddenly hit Arabella as she’d looked at Sarah’s glowing face—that this was never likely going to be her. She would not be a blushing young woman, on the verge of becoming a fiancée and then a bride. Not in Gloucestershire at least, where everyone knew who she was.

  Not one of the guests at the assembly ball wondered when it was going to be Miss Arabella Cartwright’s turn to tie the knot, in stark contrast to what speculations were being had about the other Cartwright girls. It had bothered Arabella so much, that she had spoken to Sarah about it the very next day.

  “Your betrothal?” Sarah had laughed when Arabella had suggested such an event. “Short of an unsuspecting groom outside the county, who would have you, my dear? Surely you are jesting,” her sister had added merrily before shaking her head and walking from the room. It had been like a dagger to Arabella’s heart.

  At the unpleasant memory, she grimaced. She had known then that she needed to find a groom outside the county. Arabella was sure she could behave with all the propriety that society required until she was wed. There would be no need for anyone to find out about her eccentricities until after the wedding.

  But to accomplish the dream of becoming a bride and one day having a family of her own, meant venturing away from home. Thus, she had begun her search for a way to leave Gloucestershire.

  Given that her family had no relative with means who could receive her, Arabella had realised she needed to find a way to make a living during her quest for the right groom. And, of course, her first thought was that of a governess.

  Once the idea had taken root in her mind, there had been no turning back. Arabella had been utterly resolu
te. Surely as a governess, she would be able to find herself a suitor, for even a respectable curate would do. A love match was too much to hope for, but certainly, a marriage of convenience could be on the horizon if God and fate willed it.

  Being an inventive headstrong young woman, she had promptly found such employment. It had taken a great deal of correspondence with various distant relatives, but finally one suggested the perfect employer: the Duke of Ainsley.

  A member of the highest pedigree, he was recently widowed with three children to care for. His reputation was impeccable, and he was apparently in desperate need of a governess for his charges. She could not have asked for more.

  Why the Duke would want to saddle himself with a country governess, when he could have had the pick of the crop, never entered Arabella’s mind. All she knew was that she had been given a gift from the heavens. Her residency would commence in Bath, where the Duke was staying for the season, but soon there would be travel to London and perhaps far-away places if she was lucky. She was certain that by then she would have found herself a worthy prospect. After convincing her aunt, Mrs Emelia Percy, to correspond with her childhood friend, the Dowager Duchess, about the position as governess, the arrangement was set.

  Arabella pressed the pocket that held her employment confirmation.

  She hoped she would do well as a governess to the Duke’s children. She had cared for many animal cubs under her father’s supervision, so she knew a thing or two about rearing, and hoped the children would come to love the outdoors as much as she. Arabella smiled, as she imagined what happy times she and the children would have together.

  TWO

  When Arabella had announced to her family that a gentleman outside the county had offered her employment as his governess, it was hard to decide who was more surprised, her papa or her sisters. Of course, her sisters were the first to point out how ridiculous the idea was, droning on about her lack of propriety and the fact that they fully expected her to return in disgrace in a matter of days.

  Particularly tedious was the lecture about corresponding with strange gentlemen and the barrage of questions about said gentleman’s reputation. Young women were not supposed to arrange their own employment. Not unless they belonged to the poorest class, and certainly not with unknown men from outside the county, even if they were a Duke.

  Luckily, her Aunt Percy had arrived shortly thereafter from Bath to soothe everyone’s feathers and reassure them that the arrangement was an honourable one, negotiated with the Dowager Duchess herself. The Duke would provide £120 pounds a year for Arabella’s services, including room and board, which was not a sum to be scoffed at.

  Her papa had quietly scrutinised the correspondence in her hand, looked at the coach fare, and then the proposal letter’s terms, particularly her annual remuneration. He had left the room without a word and locked himself in his study for two days straight, apparently fasting and praying. When he finally reappeared, he had been gaunt, but calm.

  “You have my blessing to leave, child. If this is for you, God will work it out,” her father had told her in a sombre tone. Arabella had smiled at him, throwing her arms around him in an embrace. She had always been able to trust her papa.

  Just then the coach jolted and startled her out of her reverie.

  Arabella looked out the window, wondering where she was and what had happened. Shocked to realise that the coach was now at a standstill at her destination, she gasped in horror as she saw the driver in the process of changing the horses, readying to leave again.

  Panicked, she pulled her valise out of its storage area with such force she tumbled backwards onto the seat. Regaining her balance, Arabella navigated her way off the coach just as the horses started to walk. She lost her footing and plunked down on her bottom on the worn brown grass.

  Her nicely arranged bonnet was now crooked and her clothes stained and crumpled. Not to mention her brand-new coat was now less than perfect. She was going to look like a beggar! Catching her breath, Arabella brushed herself off and attempted to straighten her bonnet. This is not how she’d imagined arriving in Bath.

  After her attempts to look presentable, Arabella gazed wide-eyed at her surroundings, looking around her in awe. This was definitively not Gloucestershire. There were men with top hats everywhere, wearing tailored tailcoats on top of fashionable waistcoats. Women milled about with their chaperones in tow, clad in the loveliest dresses, which Arabella guessed were the height of fashion from London. The area was heaving with people.

  The buildings nearby the inn were old and she had a feeling they had been there since the town’s beginning. Hoping that her valise was still intact, she chewed on her lowered lip, waiting patiently for whomever the Duke had sent to greet her on arrival. Arabella hoped the likeness she had sent would be enough for the servant to recognise her.

  “Excuse me, miss,” a voice said from behind her. Arabella turned around with a smile, then froze, for this was no tradesman. This gentleman’s clothes were too refined, his cravat too perfectly fitted. If his clothes had not given him away, then his ruggedly handsome features with all the arrogance of the well-to-do would have.

  “Yes? How can I help you?” Arabella replied, glancing at the man standing beside the gentleman. The man ignored her question completely, his lips curving in a slightly sardonic smile.

  “May I suggest that it would be wise for you to pull down your skirt. It seems it is caught and revealing a little too much ankle to be decent.”

  Mortified, Arabella swung around to have a quick look. Of course, that was no use, unless she could turn her head completely about, like one of those possessed people her papa used to preach about.

  “Stand still,” the man snapped, grasping her arm. Arabella stood stock-still as the gentleman sorted out the hem of her dress, ensuring her ankles were completely covered once more. If her face hadn’t already been in flames, it certainly would have turned ten shades darker by now.

  “Thank you,” Arabella whispered, looking around to make sure no one had noticed her delicate situation. The gentleman rose but did not answer her. Slightly nettled, Arabella looked up at him with a narrowed gaze.

  His steely eyes settled on her disapprovingly, his square jaw tightening visibly. Whatever did she do to deserve such disapproval? She knew she was no beauty of the first water, but neither was she one polite society would claim too hideous to look upon.

  Still, he said nothing.

  Perplexed, she looked the man over. She knew she was short, but when faced with a gentleman like this, she was positively dwarfed.

  His massive shoulders filled his coat, and the way he carried his cane spoke of someone capable of taking action. So why did he remain silent?

  “I did extend my gratitude, I believe,” Arabella said, elevating her voice. “If there is nothing else?”

  His steely gaze slightly lifted. “You are most welcome.” Then he smiled mischievously and added, “The pleasure was all yours.”

  With that parting salvo, he strode away, leaving Arabella open-mouthed with astonishment.

  “Why I never—.”

  If her papa had not taught her how unseemly it was to stand in a public place with one’s mouth half open, she would have done just that, a long while after the man left. She was completely flabbergasted. What kind of man spoke to a lady in such indiscreet terms? It was downright rude!

  Turning on her heel, Arabella strode away in the opposite direction, only to come face-to-face with a teenage boy looking at her curiously. She detected no evil intent in his face, but she reminded herself that such things could easily be the consequences of a young woman gallivanting about the English countryside without so much as a chaperone.

  “Miss Arabella Cartwright?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Oh, good,” he responded. “I thought I might have missed you”. He straightened to his full height of over six feet and smiled crookedly.

  “My name is John Si
mmons, one of the Duke’s footmen. He sent me to retrieve you and your belongings and bring you to the estate.”

  Arabella let out a sigh of relief, thankful she didn’t have to wait any longer. John led the way to the carriage and, by the time they got there, she had regained her spirits.

  “My apologies about this unfortunate weather,” the footman said. “We have been experiencing something of a drought!” He strapped her valise to the back of the carriage and helped her aboard.

  “Not at all,” Arabella murmured, resting her head against the squabs. “I am just glad to be on my way.”

  He grinned at her. “Very good,” he replied, closing the carriage door. A few minutes later, he took his position leading the horses, and they were on their way.

  Comfortably ensconced, Arabella could finally focus her attention on their destination. All thoughts of the Duke had flown from her head the moment she had met that strange gentleman.

  Even now, she could not get her thoughts to stop lingering on him. Arabella hoped she would have the opportunity to meet him again. Then she would be able to give him the set down he deserved for his rude behaviour!

  THREE

  Despite his valiant attempt to keep his emotions under control, Peter glared at his brother, the Duke of Ainsley.

  He had promised himself earlier in the day that he would avoid displaying an unseemly amount of emotion, but his good intentions had flown out the window almost the moment he reached the family estate.

  He had been trying to convince his brother for the last four months to renounce the folly he had embarked on, with no success whatsoever. As usual, Ainsley was too focused on doing exactly what he wanted, which was, as usual, the exact opposite of whatever Peter suggested. It had been that way for the last six years and had worsened over the last year. Now, it seemed, Ainsley was in a hurry to marry a veritable stranger—and Peter was livid that he could be this reckless.