A Regency Romance
Finding Forever Love Series, Book 1
To Love A Duke
A Regency Romance
By
Diana DeHaven
© 2019 by Blue Bear Publishing
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DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my children and my two irrepressible grandsons
Who make my life complete
Contents
A Regency Romance, Finding Forever Love Series, Book 1
To Love A Duke
By
Diana DeHaven
© 2019 by Blue Bear Publishing
DEDICATION
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by Diana DeHaven
Other Books by Blue Bear Publishing
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
June 1815
Rivenhall Estate
Suffolk, England
It was a cloudless June afternoon, with not a breath of wind. The large pond that sprawled across the grounds of Rivenhall Estate lay quiet and undisturbed, the water’s surface smooth and clear. The Duke of Leyton glanced out at his verdant and magnificent view of the grounds from the window of his study, forgetting what exactly he had been doing.
“Your Grace?”
The voice of his letter writer, Mr. Walken, suddenly pulled him back to the present, reminding him of that which he had forgotten. The Duke turned back and pursed his lips briefly.
“Is there anything else Your Grace would like me to add to the invitation?” he asked.
“I do believe everything that needs to be is there.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
The Duke nodded and stepped towards his desk, which stood in the middle of the study, and reached for a small stack of papers. “The Dowager Duchess and I have compiled a list of the guests we wish to invite. Please ensure that the calligraphy is done properly and leave no guest uninvited.”
“Certainly, Your Grace,” Mr. Walken said, with a nod as he took the list from the Duke.
“And please ensure this list does stay in your possession. The last thing I have strength for at this moment is unpleasantries.”
“You have my utmost discretion, Your Grace. I give you my word that this will commence swimmingly and without any unpleasantries.”
“Wonderful. The Dowager Duchess will assist you if you have any further questions,” the Duke replied with a smile and turned away.
“I have one, which I imagine you can answer better than she can.”
The Duke turned back to Mr. Walken and frowned. “And what is that?”
“Do any of these invitations require a gold seal?”
The Duke narrowed his eyes slightly in disapproval and sighed. “No. They are all to be red.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
The Duke narrowed his eyes and studied Mr. Walken for a short while. “Did she wish to know, or did you?”
“I am not at liberty to say, Your Grace,” he answered apologetically.
“You did not need to, I know my mother,” the duke said flatly, a scowl slightly visible on his face.
“Apologies, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.”
“No need to apologize. I do understand that she can be rather insistent.”
“Persistent as well, Your Grace, if you do not mind me saying so,” Mr. Walken pointed out.
“You are right,” the Duke chuckled.
There was a sharp and insistent knock on the door of the study and it opened almost immediately.
“Speak of the devil,” the Duke muttered as the door opened and his mother entered.
The Dowager Duchess of Leyton was the kind of woman who did not tolerate insolence, especially not from her only son. Despite her petite frame, she commanded respect and those who had opposed her in the past knew what it felt like to experience her wrath. It was an experience no one cared to repeat.
Her hands were clasped together, clutching a small box, and there was a look of disapproval on her face, which was not something the Duke, as well as Mr. Walken was unfamiliar with. The Dowager Duchess was terribly frank with her words and was often mistaken for rude and abrupt. Her reasoning behind her behavior was that she would rather be known to be honest, albeit cruel, than pretentious and grandiloquent.
“Mother,” The Duke greeted her with a bright smile, giving Mr. Walken a dismissive nod.
The man nodded in acknowledgement, and the Duke noticed a look of relief in his eyes as he practically ran across the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving the Duke and his mother alone in the study.
“Owen,” she said and turned to him.
“Mother,” he repeated in a less enthusiastic tone. “If you have something to ask me, do not send Mr. Walken to do it for you.”
“What on Earth do you speak of?”
“Well, Mother,” The Duke said, walking around the desk, “Mr. Walken wished to know whether I wanted any invitations to have a gold seal instead of a red one.”
“Did he now?” she asked, innocently.
“He did.”
“And what did you tell him?” she asked nonchalantly.
“They are all to be red.”
The Dowager Duchess released her hands and set the box she was carrying on the Duke’s desk. “Owen, I was under the impression you-”
“You were wrong, Mother.”
“But Lady Josephine is the perfect woman for you.”
“According to you, of course.”
“She comes from a fine family, Owen. Please do not be difficult in his matter. You are nearly twenty-and-five years old.”
“And what does my age have to do with being married?” he asked.
He was well aware of his mother’s views on this subject, but he enjoyed provoking her.
While she proceeded on her tangent about how she was married at the age of twenty, the Duke only shook his head, knowing her speech by heart. In fact, he could recite it word for word with the utmost accuracy.
“Mother,” he said suddenly, and she gave him an angry glance. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?”
“Indeed. There is no reason to act the way you are doing.”
“My son will be five-and-twenty years of age and he still must find him a wife,” she lamented.
“There is plenty of time.”
“I have spoken with Lord and Lady Lincolnshire and they approve,” she said.
“Of course they approve. I am the Duke of Leyton. Only a foolish man would disapprove.”
“Then what is the problem, my son?”
“She is not the right woman for me.”
“I do not understand your obstinance. This is very important.”
“For whom?”
“Owen...”
“Answer my question, Mother.
”
“For you, for our family. Is your family not important to you?”
The Duke ran his fingers through his curly black hair and sighed. “You are being rather dramatic.”
“Am I?”
“You are.”
“I was under the impression that the meeting between you and Lady Josephine this afternoon was to finalize everything so that you can announce your engagement next week.”
“This afternoon?”
“You have forgotten about the meeting with Lady Josephine and her parents?” she gasped.
“I have. I have been preoccupied with the planning of my birthday party. I apologize.”
“Your apology is wasted on me in that regard.”
“Mother, I am not going to propose to her in front of the entire populace of Suffolk.
“I am not suggesting that you do. Perhaps you can give this to her later this afternoon,” the Dowager Duchess said as she carefully revealed a sparkling ruby necklace lying in the red velvet-lined box she had carried into the room with her.
“Mother, that was Grandmother’s.”
“I do not see her wearing it,” the Dowager Duchess scoffed.
“Mother...”
“It has been in our family for generations.”
“And now you wish me to give it to Lady Josephine?” he queried.
“Indeed. It will look magnificent on her. With her porcelain skin and dark hair, not even to mention her deep green eyes, she will look gorgeous.”
“Mother, please.”
“No, Owen. Take it,” she insisted and when the Duke reluctantly took the necklace from her, she continued, “and give it to her as a token of your love.”
“But I do not love her.”
“You will.”
“You cannot marry someone you do not love.”
“We all have,” she answered with a forced smile and turned away.
“Mother, wait.”
“No, I have much to do. Lord and Lady Lincolnshire, and Lady Josephine will be here shortly, and I must ensure everything is perfect for their arrival.”
“They are not royalty, Mother. Please do not make such a fuss.”
“I cannot believe you say such things,” she gasped.
He sighed and slowly shook his head.
“I suggest you strip yourself of this attitude and ready yourself for tea with our guests,” the Dowager Duchess muttered as she turned and walked across the room. She pulled the door open and quickly walked through it, leaving him standing in the study, still holding the ruby necklace in his hand.
He glanced down at it and sighed once more.
The Dowager Duchess and Lady Lincolnshire had been friends since they were young girls. They had attended the same finishing school and had even traveled abroad together with their respective families during holidays. They were very close and had spent many afternoons laughing and sharing their stories, being nostalgic.
It had been no secret that his mother and Lady Lincolnshire were conspiring against him, wanting to introduce him to Lady Josephine. She was younger than he was, but of marriageable age, and his mother had made it clear that she could not have been more thrilled that the young girl had now grown into a beautiful young woman.
The Duke would not deny that Lady Josephine was beautiful. She was exquisite, especially her eyes. He had not seen anyone with such deep brown eyes in his entire life. They were magnetic, alluring and at times he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from them. Despite her beauty, she was not as appealing as he hoped she would be. She was rather supercilious and looked down on anyone whom she felt was beneath her.
Although that was a trait many people of her status possessed, it was not appealing to the Duke. She was not humble at all and endlessly boasted about material things and achievements. She had no regard for anyone's feelings but her own, and she was also quite arrogant.
One thing that also bothered the Duke very much was how possessive she was of him. They were not courting, which made him wonder exactly why she acted this way. He also wondered whether this possessiveness would intensify if they ever married. That thought was not very appealing to him, and he placed the necklace down on the desk as he cringed.
*****
Dressmaker’s Shop
Everdale Lane
Belton, Suffolk, England
“Emma?”
Emma Cooper’s hand jolted and her needle pierced the skin on her finger, causing her to shriek out. She had been so immersed in her work that she had not even heard her friend, Alice, enter the room until she heard her say her name.
“I am sorry I frightened you.”
“It is alright.” Emma stared at the tiny bead of blood pooling on her fingertip and wiped it on her apron. “Is something the matter?”
“No, I went to the market and got us each a small loaf of bread.”
“That is very kind of you, but I have much work to complete.”
“This is not even your work, Emma. Doris has to complete this,” Alice said and glanced around the dress store. “Where is she?”
“She asked me to carry on. She went out.”
“That is rather typical of her. She throws all her work on you, but takes the credit for every bit of it,” Alice scoffed.
“At least it keeps me busy, Alice.”
“Nonsense. She is taking advantage of you, and it’s wrong. You must eat something,” she said and handed Emma a loaf of bread. “Take it.”
Emma sighed, placed the dress on the low table beside her chair and took the bread from Alice. She certainly did not want crumbs to fall all over the dress she was stitching. Doris would certainly die of embarrassment if the Countess of Roth came for her fitting and found her gown covered in stale breadcrumbs. “Thank you, Alice. You are an angel.”
“My mother would say the same thing.”
“Mine as well, if she were still alive,” Emma pointed out, sadly.
“It feels like just the other day it happened.”
Emma nodded and glanced at Alice with a cringe. “May we possibly speak of something else?”
“Of course. Did you hear-”
“You are not supposed to gossip, Alice. You promised.”
“This is not gossip. It is the truth.”
“Then what is it?”
“Do you remember Mary Wilson who used to work here?”
“Of course.”
“She ran away with her lover because he would not formally leave his wife. Apparently, he staged his own death and now he and Mary are somewhere in Europe about to have a child,” Alice said in a low voice.
“Where on Earth did you here that?” Emma asked.
“From Frances.”
Emma sighed and shook her head. “She is not the most trustworthy of sources, and not everything she says is true. You should be aware of this.”
“I think it is rather romantic.”
“And why is that?”
“They ran away together.”
“That is not romantic.”
“Then what is?”
“I am not in any position to give my opinion. I seem to repel romance.”
“That is not true.”
“Do you see the line of suitors waiting outside for me?” Emma asked rhetorically.
“It will happen when you least expect it, Emma. Men are rather slow. They would not know a good woman even if she walked straight up to him and slapped him across the face.”
“A good woman would not do that?” Emma mused with a chuckle.
“Your problem is that you are much too feisty, and picky, for that matter.”
“I am not picky. I just know what I prefer, and I have not found it yet.”
“Because you are picky.”
“I am not.”
“She is right,” Doris said suddenly as she entered the room.
“I was...Alice...” Emma stammered, but Doris shook her head.
“You are allowed to eat, Emma.”
“Thank you.”
<
br /> “How is the dress coming along?”
“I have nearly finished the hem. The bottom embroidery is completed.”
To Love A Duke: A Regency Romance (Finding Forever Love) Page 1