Delighted by the Duke
Amanda Mariel
Brook Ridge Press
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2017 Amanda Mariel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Brook Ridge Press
Created with Vellum
For every parent who loves a child because they can and not because they have to. It takes a big and pure heart. Know that you are making a real difference!
Contents
Also by Amanda Mariel
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Excerpt
Chapter 9
About the Author
Afterword
Also by Amanda Mariel
Ladies and Scoundrels series
Scandalous Endeavors
Scandalous Intentions
Scandalous Redemption
Scandalous Wallflower
Coming soon to the Ladies and Scoundrels series
Scandalous Liaison
Fabled Love Series
Enchanted by the Earl
Captivated by the Captain
Enticed by Lady Elianna
Delighted by the Duke
Lady Archer’s Creed series
Theodora (Christina McKnight writing with Amanda Mariel)
Georgina (Amanda Mariel writing with Christina McKnight)
Adeline (Christina McKnight writing with Amanda Mariel)
Josephine (Amanda Mariel writing with Christina McKnight)
Stand alone titles
Love’s Legacy
Coming soon
More Than a Lady
Connected by a Kiss
**These are designed so they can standalone**
How to Kiss a Rogue (Amanda Mariel)
A Kiss at Christmastide (Christina McKnight)
A Wallflower’s Christmas Kiss (Dawn Brower)
Box sets and anthologies
Visit www.amandamariel.com to see Amanda’s current offerings.
Prologue
London 1812
Miss Emma Baxter paused outside of her uncle’s office unable to ignore the raised voices coming from within.
“You will settle your debt or face debtor’s prison.” A raspy male voice shouted.
“Surely I have something other than coin that you would be willing to accept,” Her uncle, Mr. Silas Powell, suggested.
Emma crept closer and peeked through the crack of the partially open door. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Lord Winham stood near her uncle’s desk, a tumbler of amber liquid in his beefy hand.
“You should refrain from gambling if you haven’t the blunt to settle your losses, Baxter.”
She should have guessed as much. Uncle Silas had gambled away nearly everything they had, save for the house and a few baubles her aunt had entrusted to her before she passed away. Those too, would no doubt have been lost as well if Uncle Silas knew she possessed them. He’d claimed to have stayed away from the gaming hells these past months. All the same, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear he was in trouble again.
After all, it was only a matter of time where Uncle Silas was concerned. He always fell back into the trap. The habit had caused a continuous heartache for her aunt while she lived, and likely caused her death. Poor thing, she had loved him deeply despite his failings and as a result fretted more than was good for any one person.
“You are welcome to anything I posses, Windham. Name your desire and it is yours.”
What was there to take other than their home? Her uncle’s pub, she supposed. One would be as devastating a loss for them as the other. If Windham took the house they would have no shelter—if he took the pub they would have no income.
“Perhaps there is one thing you posses of interest to me.” Windham rubbed his rounded chin between his thumb and forefinger as she stared, her belly in knots. “Miss Emma.”
Bile rose in her throat. She fought to suppress it as she stared at the men. Uncle Silas would never…
“Done,” Uncle Silas agreed. “She is yours to do with as you please.”
How could he! Was it not bad enough that her own father gave her away after her mother’s death? Now her uncle intended to use her in order to settle his debt. She’d not stand for it. The office door ricocheted off the papered wall from the force she used entering the room. “You cannot give me away like I am nothing more than an old settee.” She glared at Uncle Silas prepared to do battle.
Both men stared at her with rounded eyes. Windham recovered first and ambled over to her. “Calm down, pet. I will make you a fine husband.” He reached out one meaty hand, resting it on her lower back. I have desired you for years and promise not to disappoint.
She jerked away from him then moved to the opposite side of the drab room, her slipper clad feet pounding the worn rug beneath them. “I will not marry you, Lord Windham.” She turned her attention on Uncle Silas. “You cannot force me.”
Uncle Silas offered a smile as he rounded his desk coming toward her. “Do be reasonable, Emma. Lord Windham is a wealthy baron. A far better match than you could have hoped for. Hell, you do not even have a dowry, but now you will be a countess.”
She stiffened her back. “Have you thought to ask yourself why a wealthy baron would seek my hand?” She would wager he had not. Furthermore, the answer could not be undying love. The baron’s intentions arose from lust at best. Good Heaven’s, he’d said as much only a moment ago. The way he gazed at her on the rare occasions they were in the same room always sent chills through her. Death would be preferable to a forced marriage with the old lecher.
“His reasons do not signify. Fact is, Lord Windham has offered for you and you will accept.”
“I most certainly will not,” She raised her voice a fraction.
Windham studied her from his place near the window a slight curve to his plump lips and something dark in his gaze. “I have longed to posses you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, Miss Emma. You will be the jewel in my barony.”
Uncle Silas took firm hold of her upper arm, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on his breath. “You owe me for all the years I have cared for you.”
“I never asked for your care. Father sold me to you.” She fought back her rising tears. “I owe you nothing.”
Windham approached, placing his hand on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, “Once we are wed, I will see you tamed, pet.”
She glared at him, “Never. I will never marry you.”
He ran his hand down her back to her buttocks, squeezed, then strolled to the door before turning back to her Uncle. “See that she complies, Baxter. I expect to be wed in three weeks time or it will be debtor’s prison for you. I will have a betrothal contract outlining the wedding plans sent over for your signature.” Windham tossed her a lecherous smile before taking his leave.
“I will never marry you. No one can force me,” Emma yelled at his retreating back.
Her head snapped to the side as her uncle’s open hand smacked into her cheek. She placed her own hand over the stinging flesh. Her resolve strengthened and she held her head high in challenge.
“You can do whatever you please, Uncle. But know this. I would embrace death before a marriage to Lord Windham.”
“You always were a foolish chit.” He pulled her from the office then pushed her toward the stairs. “You will remain locked in your room with nothing more than a meal a day to sustain you until you see reason and accept Windham.”
She started up the stairs, her chin notched defiantly. “You might as well refrain from sending food. I will not eat a bite.”
“You only harm yourself. You will be wed to the baron with or without your consent.”
His heavy footfalls behind her urged her to walk faster as she made haste for the sanctuary of her chamber. She knew not how she would get out of this marriage, but there was no way she could comply. She’d think of something—someway, somehow, she had to escape the baron’s clutches.
Chapter 1
Three weeks later,
English countryside
Emma stared out the carriage window, refusing to acknowledge Lord Windham or her uncle Silas. She had to escape before they reached Windham’s Hampshire estate, but how? And more importantly, where would she go? Today marked their third day of travel since leaving London. By nightfall, they would reach Windham’s. A shiver trickled down her spine. She simply could not abide the baron.
She glanced at the two men, sitting across from her grateful that neither seemed to be paying her any mind. Her skin crawled when she looked at Windham. There was no way she could ever allow herself to be wed to him. Escaping had to be her top priority whether or not she had somewhere to go. And how could Uncle Silas do this to her? His own flesh and blood!
Perhaps she should have runaway the first time they’d stopped for the night. She’d had the opportunity as Uncle Silas and Lord Windham had left her alone in a coaching inn room while they went off to drink. Neither man returned until the early morning hours. Alas, fear had frozen her—not today, for great change required courage and she was very much in need of a change.
She swallowed hard. “Uncle Silas?”
“Yes.” He tipped his head up to meet her gaze.
Emma gave a practiced smile. “I am suddenly quite famished. When might we stop?”
Uncle Silas turned to Lord Windham. “It is nearing luncheon. What say you?”
Emma fought the urge to avert her gaze as Lord Windham turned his cool brown eyes on her. “I am pleased you have finally decided to be reasonable, my dear.”
A smart retort caught in the back of her throat, schooling herself, she held it back. She wished to tell him that her request had nothing to do with being reasonable, or that starvation did that to a person, but it would not do to give rise to suspicion. Instead, she simply said, “I have.”
“Very well. We shall stop at the next coaching inn,” Lord Windham said, then knocked on the window with his cane.
The coachman slid the glass pain open. “Yes, my lord?”
“Stop at the next coaching inn. While we eat, I wish for you to change out the horses.”
“’Tis one just down the road. Won’t be but a few minutes.”
Lord Windham uncrossed his short, beefy legs. “Very well, make haste.” He turned his lecherous eyes on Emma. “My pet requires sustenance.”
She shivered with revulsion as she ran her finger over the design carved in the molding of Windham’s coach.
The coachman closed the window and Emma felt the carriage gain speed. She settled back against the plush seat, her heart pounding. Pray, let her manage to get away, and grant her strength to tolerate Lord Windham until the chance to run presents itself.
Before long, the carriage swayed as they turned into a drive, then lurched to stop in front of an inn. Emma braced herself with her hands to keep from tumbling from her leather and velvet seat.
“I will assist you out of the coach, my pet.” Lord Windham winked.
A forced grin tugged at her lips. “Thank you.”
The footman placed the step before opening the carriage door. Emma did her best to appear relaxed as the men departed the coach. She inhaled a deep breath then let it out slow before moving to the carriage door and accepting Lord Windham’s arm. Disgust swept through her when he placed his hand over her gloved one where it rested uneasily at his elbow.
Everything within her cried out for her to remove her hand from him. Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat, but she fought past the uneasiness and forced herself to play the part. As they made their way up to the entrance, through the receiving area, and into the dining room, Emma continually scanned her surroundings looking for both an escape route and somewhere to hide.
There were several shadowed nooks and large drapery covered windows a person could conceal themselves in. More than a few large pieces of furniture one could hide beneath, and countless doors leading away from the common areas she could dart through.
But, the exterior of the inn seemed to offer the best avenues for escape. A thick copse of trees surrounded the building that she could most certainly get lost in, or she could find sanctuary in the stables concealed under a haystack or stashed away in the loft. Furthermore, she’d noticed several horses as well as carriages about that she could use to get away.
Emma turned the possibilities over in her mind as Lord Windham led her through the dining room to a small round table.
He ran his meaty hand down her back, leaning in close. “You will be rewarded for your change of attitude.” His breath fanned her ear making her cringe, but at least he refrained from fondling her on this occasion.
Emma nodded, wishing for nothing more than to take her seat. She exhaled a breath she’d been holding as she accepted the chair he pulled out for her. Her skin revolted at Lord Windham’s touch. She doubted there was enough hot water in all of England to make her feel clean again.
“Good day.” An older woman, her grey hair pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck approached their table. “What can I fetch for ye?”
Uncle Silas looked to Lord Windham and Emma’s heart hitched. She could not help but feel sorry for her uncle. Though his financial straits were of his own creation, she understood how it pained him to be at the barons’ mercy.
If only he’d not been so foolish. She sighed, averting her gaze. As much as she would like to save her uncle, she could not, for she’d not sacrifice her own wellbeing.
“A couple of pints of your finest ale and tea for the lady. Bring some beef stew, bread, and butter as well,” Lord Windham ordered. “Do you desire anything else, my pet? Perhaps a sweet treat?”
Emma forced herself to meet his gaze. “No, what you have ordered is more than sufficient, my lord.”
He turned his attention back to the serving woman. “That will be all.”
“Right away, Me Lord.” The woman turned and bustled away.
Lord Windham slid his chair closer to Emma’s, reaching out to rest his hand on her thigh.
She could not fight the urge to react, jumping at the invasion before settling herself. Even through her skirts, her skin crawled at his touch. She swallowed hard, focusing on her plan.
“We are to be wed by this time on the marrow. Let us do away with formalities. Please address me as Leviticus.” Lord Windham patted her thigh.
Had anyone in the crush of guests noticed the familiarities he was taking? Emma closed her eyes, reminding herself that she had to play along. “As you wish, Le…Leviticus.” The name soured on her tongue. “Might I be excused for a moment?”
“Indeed, but do not tarry for I want you to eat while your meal is still hot.” Lord Windham smiled. “You will need your energy on the marrow.” He squeezed her thigh before removing his disgusting hand from her.
Emma forced a painful grin before rising from her chair. It took all she possessed to get up in a graceful manner rather than bolting from the seat as she wished to. With her attention trained on the exit, she made her way across the crowded dining room.
Reaching the door, she stepped through, then gave into the urge to glanc
e over her shoulder. Lord Windham stared at her from across the room.
She gave a quick grin then turned into the hall as if she were going to use the privy. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she circled back and walked with hurried steps toward the main exit.
The bright noonday sun caused her to squint as she stepped into the drive. With a cursory glance around, she decided to make her way to the stables. She would stash herself away there until she decided what to do next. Ignoring her pounding heart, she continued toward the building.
Emma drew to a stop outside of the stable entrance. Several voices drifted out from within the large wooden building. Drat! She should have suspected there would be people within. It would be impossible for her to sneak past them without detection and being seen would not do. Surely, someone would give her away the moment Lord Windham and Uncle Silas came looking.
Her eyes lit on a nearby traveling coach pulled by four matching gray horses and tethered to a hitching post. Emma could not guess whether the carriage was preparing to come or go, nor did she know if anyone occupied it, though she meant to find out. She nibbled her lower lip, moving closer to the conveyance.
Emma looked around once more, not at all sure what she should do. Maybe taking her chances in the woods would serve her best, though she was quite certain she’d be safer in the carriage boot. One thing was certain, she could not stand her all day or she’d not get away from Lord Windham at all.
She stepped crept up to the back of the coach and lifted the boot open in preparation to climb inside. Her heart sank, the compartment held far too much luggage for her to fit within. She lowered the lid back into place, her pulse hammering. What was she to do now?
Delighted by the Duke (Fabled Love Book 4) Page 1