by Fiona Miers
Hannah’s Duke
Book 4 in
The Heir and a Spare series
By Fiona Miers
WARNING!!!!
Hello everyone,
Thank you so much for ordering a pre-order copy of Hannah’s Duke. A story I started more than five years ago, and am very proud to have finished and finally got out into the world.
However, my editor did NOT get the edited version to me by the amazon cut off time for pre-orders, so this is the un-edited version.
I apologise profusely for this!
If you would like to email me, I can compensate you for this muck around with another book, or ever the full box-set when it comes out in a few weeks.
However, I have got another editor onto the manuscript and have paid her extra to get it done in 3 days so that by the time you read this- I would have uploaded a new version. If all goes to plan.
So if you would bear with me for 24 hours- and re-sync your kindle- you will get the brand new- edited version.
Or you may email me at
[email protected]
And I will send you the new version immediately.
This has never happened before and I am very sorry.
If you would like to read on- it is totally up to you, but it will not be the standard that I had hoped to present to you.
My deepest apologies,
And kindest regard,
Fiona Miers xo
Contents Page.
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Hannah’s Duke
By Fiona Miers
Prologue: Fifteen years earlier.
“I love her. I will not give her up!”
John cringed as he heard his father’s voice through the walls. He moved close, ignoring his inner voice that knew he would regret the decision. The pie plate he had stolen from the kitchen slipped from his hands, falling softly to the plush carpet. As he knelt to pick up the plate by the partially open door he glanced up. He could see his mother’s face, red and shiny.
John jumped to his feet and stepped back, his shoulder blades pressing into the wall. He stood frozen, unable to run.
“How can you say that you love her? She’s a whore!” his mother screamed. Her voice high pitched and out right ugly. He’d never heard a lady scream like that before.
A loud cracking noise, a thud, then a whimper.
John jumped, his heart thundering in his ear like the hooves of a thousand horses overhead. Had his father just… hit her?
His father had a mistress that he was in love with and it was breaking his mother’s, heart. How could his father do that? How could falling in love make you act so strangely? Violently?
“Don’t you dare speak that way about her. You have no idea who she is, or what she’s been through. I want her, I love her and I don’t want you.”
His father’s voice made John’s stomach turn. So cold towards his mother and yet so passionate. So… stupid.
“But I’m your wife…” sobbed the Marchioness of Hunting.
John wrapped his arms around his middle at hearing the raw emotion he could hear in his mother’s voice. She was quite horrible to him most of the time and yet it seemed there was more to her than he had first thought.
“I don’t care. I never wanted you; my parents made me marry you.”
The sobbing was now painful to listen to, tearing at John’s soft heart. Holding his breath, and praying not to be heard, he started to edge back to his room.
“She is going to live in the Dowager house at Hampshire.”
John gasped then covered his mouth with his hand. Had he just heard correctly?
Was his father going to make his mother live within earshot of his mistress? He couldn’t possibly do that, could he?
“You can’t do. That is my home, not hers. What will the servants say? There will be a huge scandal. Our family name will be ruined. I won’t allow it. I simply, won’t.”
His father chortled. “You don’t have a choice. If you don’t wish to come with me on the off Season, then that is your choice. Stay in London.”
“No Charles! Please. You must be discreet.”
“I am. So be grateful you are allowed on the Hampshire estate at all.”
John swallowed hard, not sure what all of this meant. But it wasn’t good. The sinking feeling in his gut worried him. Things were changing and it was not for the better.
He ascended the stairs two at a time, a plan forming in his head. He didn’t want to be like his father. Women were obviously the problem here. Loving them caused one to lose him mind and do ridiculous things that hurt other people. He could not have that.
There was only one way to make sure that never happened to him.
John’s young heart constricted in his chest as he made a silent vow to himself to never be like his own father. He would make sure no woman ever got that close to him.
Chapter 1.
Lord John Dunford, second son of the Duke of Arrow swallowed down the vomit that rose in his throat. His sister and her husband were truly nauseating. They stroked each other constantly and made eyes at one another across the table at every meal. He’d never seen the like of it before. And to think that Archie had once upon a time been his best friend.
“So, who is the young lady you have visiting with you Charlotte?” John asked, demanding attention from the besotted pair.
Charlotte and Archie looked away from each other to address him.
“My cousin. She arrived later yesterday.” Archie murmured, idly stroking Charlotte on the back of the neck with his fingers.
John glared at the man that he used to consider one of his best friends. There was a time and a place for such affection, and it was not at the dining table.
Archie cleared his throat and dropped his hand away.
“Really John,” Charlotte snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. “If you don’t like how we are with each other, you can go back to London and the boredom that comes with it.”
John ignored her, shifting in his chair. He had nowhere else to go and she knew it.
“Tell me about your cousin, Archie.”
Surely there would be something to amuse him while visiting his sister.
“Hannah,” Archie said, a winsome smile stretching across his usually solemn face.
Worried about his sister’s feelings, John’s eyes darted across to Charlotte to find the same look on her face.
How odd.
“Hannah is, well...” Archie twisted his wrist in the air as though searching for the right word to describe his cousin.
“American.” Charlotte finished for her husband.
“Really? Well, then I am intrigued.” He’d never met an American woman before and he had heard they were indeed an unusual breed.
“Is she a widow?” John asked. Hoping of course that she was. Perhaps Hannah was the perfect something that would take his mind off the fact that his life was in a shambles.
His three best friends had all married themselves off and he had been left standing alone. Not only had they gotten leg shackled, that would have been tolerable, but they had all made love matches. They had stopped drinking, carousing, and were generally so smitten it was sickening to be around them.
E
ven Rupert, a man who’d drunk his way through every brothel in London was now sick in love.
To make matters even worse, John had nowhere else to go in the off Season. He’d spent his adult years visiting his friends because the family estate in Hampshire was too awkward and uncomfortable to visit. His mother became more and more distressed every year about the long-term presence of his father’s mistress. Due to this discord, his father spent more and more time with her. It was not a pleasant situation.
Archie had his family’s spectacular family home in Kent and John had always been welcome, for which he was grateful. But John could barely tolerate Archie and Charlotte’s company now and it was bad luck for him because he was out of choices. Oliver and Sarah were at their own grand country estate with their two sons and Rupert had taken his beautiful new wife to France.
“Hannah is unmarried currently, looking for a husband this season. Her father, a distant cousin of mine contacted me last year and I offered to sponsor her.” Archie said, giving John a meaningful stare.
Damn. A virgin? He wasn’t going near her then.
John laughed, letting some of his built up tension free. If his friend thought he would be married off anytime soon, then Archie was setting himself up to be sorely disappointed.
“I’m glad I can meet her first then Archie, I can warn her of the dangerous rake hells that scour London.”
John chuckled again as he watched unease flicker over his friend’s face. What the hell was he going to do with a virgin, other than flirt with her to annoy Archie?
“I think that would be a great idea,” Charlotte said as she placed her hands in her lap. “She should be back in the stable by now. Go introduce yourself, brother.”
Archie smiled, the light in his eyes a little too mischievous for John’s liking.
“Why would she be in the stables?” John asked in confusion.
No lady was ever found in a stable.
“She’ll be attending to her horse I’m sure.”
“She rides?” John asked, unable to quell the slight interest that pricked his voice. Although it wasn’t totally unheard of, a lady who rode was rare, although Lizzie, Rupert’s wife certainly did. Perhaps Hannah was a country girl also and they could share their passion for good horse flesh. Maybe she wouldn’t be such a loss after all.
“Mmmm.” Archie murmured, nodding his head and putting his arm back around his wife’s chair.
That decided it for him. He wasn’t staying to sit here a moment longer to watch any more of the wonderful show titled, my sister and her sap of a husband.
“Then I shall introduce myself.” John stood up and bowed to his family. Although he was using the woman as an excuse in a way, he was certainly interested in meeting a new species. An American lady that rode horses? He thought he had bedded every sort there was available, but this was new.
John trotted off towards the stables, fresh air filling his lungs. His heart felt lighter by being outdoors. He tilted his head towards the sun and glanced across at the large green field behind the house. Once upon a time, Archie and he used to talk about nothing but horses. Now all of Archie’s conversation revolved around his sons, his wife, and his estate. John was bored with it all.
John rounded the stable door and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t be looking at a woman. The person before him looked like a well dressed stable hand.
Could this really be the American cousin Hannah?
She was rubbing down a magnificent horse with the exuberance of a seasoned stable hand. She had a thick bristled brush and she was working her way across the animal’s hide, making gentle chatter to the horse.
He watched a moment longer. The graceful arm movements, the hint of lush skin and shapely thigh. His body stirred. Yes, definitely a woman.
He held his breath as he moved closer. Hannah had long red and gold hair that fell down her back unbound and she wore male riding pants and a shirt. Looking closer John realized that the riding habit must be hers; no pair of pants designed for a man would ever fit a behind like hers. It was so well shaped he wanted to reach out and squeeze it.
Reminding himself that he was staring at a virgin who wanted to marry soon, John closed the gap between them.
He cleared his throat loudly to get her attention but she just kept on brushing.
John bowed deeply and said in a loud voice,
“John Dunford, your servant.”
The lady in front of him jumped and whirled around laughing, sunshine lighting up the air around her like she was an angel in disguise.
“Charlotte’s rapscallion of a brother? Good to meet you. I’m Hannah.”
The woman with bright blue eyes and a brilliant smile, stuck her hand out for him to shake.
John stared at her for a moment before good manners forced him to shake the offered hand. He had gloves on and she did not, and he found himself wishing he hadn’t dressed do formally today. He was flabbergasted. Dumbstruck.
Hannah was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. More beautiful than Sarah, Lizzie and Charlotte combined. And that was saying something because he admired all of his friend’s wives.
She was covered in dirt, her hair was windblown and yet she glowed with good health and a sensual promise that he’d be a fool not to recognise. Her cheekbones spoke of her aristocratic breeding and her full lips would make any woman envious.
An uncomfortable sensation twisted deep in his guts. He was confused as to how to act, what to do. He barely knew her and yet she was so different to any other woman he’d ever met.
The questions came shooting through John’s head.
Why did she shake my hand like a man would?
Why is she here grooming the horses?
Why is she looking into my face with her clear blue eyes without a hint of fear, arousal or disdain?
What’s wrong with her?
“Hannah,” he repeated slowly.
“Can I help you, John?” the beautiful, dirty woman asked, moving to the other side of the horse.
John watched her sure, strong hands working the brush and knew that this was not a new occupation to her. She had spent most of her life doing that same action. What lady did that?
Pull yourself together man.
“I was told by my sister to introduce myself.” John smiled as he spoke, finally able to call on the easy charm that he usually possessed.
“Charlotte is a bit of a stickler for the rules, isn’t she?” Hannah chortled again, and John put out his hand to steady himself. Good god. Had his knees weakened at the sound of her laugh?
“She is,” John agreed, wondering for a moment if he just insulted his sister. A smile quirked up one side of his mouth. This was delicious.
“Are you here for long, Hannah?”
John reached up to loosen his cravat, throwing caution to the wind. If she could dress in riding breeches, he could at least loosen the neck tie threatening to choke him.
Why was there suddenly not a breath of fresh air around?
“Oh, most likely. My parents sent me over here to marry an Englishman. Quite given up on me they have.” Hannah confided in John without looking up from her work.
“Why would they despair such a thing?” John asked incredulously. She was spectacular to look at and seemed to have an easy and happy disposition. Why would anyone despair on her not marrying?
“I’m five and twenty.” Hannah shrugged with indifference.
“No.” John breathed, unable to believe she was any older than one and twenty. Her skin had a glow of youth most ton ladies lost at sixteen.
Hannah looked up, saw his face and burst out laughing.
John flushed, why was she laughing at him? He clenched his teeth and crossed his arms across his chest.
He was six foot two inches and by no means thin. He worked hard to keep the muscle he had and yet at this moment, Hannah made him feel small and inadequate. Not a feeling he liked, nor one he was used to.
Hannah straightened from h
er hunched posture and cocked her head to the side again while she gazed at him. She was much taller than most women John knew, easily five foot ten inches. It was a rare sight to be able to look into a woman’s eyes so easily.
“Are you stuck up too?” Hannah asked as she put the brush down. She came around the front of the horse and stood in front of him, placing her hands on her hips like a Queen.
John couldn’t stop his eyes travelling down her body.
Archie’s cousin had wide hips and strong, nicely curved thighs. Thighs that could ride him for hours.
John’s traitorous body rose at that thought.
“Are you quite finished looking me over?” Hannah demanded, flicking her long hair back over her shoulders.
John exhaled sharply as he saw the flush of her cheeks and the dangerous glitter in her oceanic eyes. She was spectacular when angry.
“Well, you do make a fetching picture my lady,” John drawled, stepping closer to pick up Hannah’s hand.
She shook him off and placed her other hand square in the center of his chest.
“Back off,” Hannah hissed through clenched teeth.
“Pardon me?” John asked, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. What on earth did she mean by that?
Hannah didn’t repeat what she had said, she shoved him backwards with one strong push of her hand.
John stumbled two steps back, a strange gargled laugh rolling out of his throat as he did. He hadn’t been expecting it, and he would never have assumed a woman would do such a thing.
“I don’t appreciate false compliments and I don’t like charming dandies. So I suggest you get used to a woman in trousers and I will see you at dinner.”
John rubbed his chest where he had been pushed and enjoyed the sight of Hannah storming off towards the house, her arms swinging angrily, her beautiful thick hair moving around her like a cloud.
His eyes drifted lower and lust kicked him in the gut like a solid horse hoof.
She really must get a coat that covers that bottom of hers, he thought idly as he walked around the stables. What sort of lady was immune to his charms, was still unmarried at twenty-five and was so spectacular looking?