Desperate for a Duke

by Dayna Quince

  Heather heard footsteps coming down the stairs, the back stairs it seemed, and to her right was a pair of glass doors. She paused before the wavy glass. The room was filled with moonlight and plants—the conservatory. Heather entered and waded into the fragrant jungle of potted trees. Hearing the conservatory door open and close, she turned. She could barely see him in the light, but she knew it was Fallon with everything in her heart.

  He moved toward her, and she stepped into the light.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “Everything,” she said thickly. “Everything that could go wrong is presently happening. I’ve ruined my family. I’ve destroyed my sister’s chances of having any kind of future, all because…” Because of what her father had done, because of what she was doing now. Perhaps they had more in common than Heather thought. “I couldn’t deny myself.”

  Fallon stepped closer to her and pulled her against him. She tucked her head into his shoulder and wept. He slowly rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Heather.”

  Heather looked up at Fallon. They were both awash in silvery blue light. She came up on her toes, desperately seeking his lips with her own. One, two, three sweeps of his mouth, and then he pulled away. Heather clung to him.

  “I was so wrong, Heather. I am the villain in this story. I sought something of which I had no right.”

  “We both did.”

  “I don’t regret what I feel. I only regret that I put you in such a predicament. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Heather nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “Nor I you. What will you do? Will you find a new position?”

  Fallon blinked. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heather said quickly. “Not only did I ruin my family’s future, I ruined yours as well.”

  “Don’t say that. You could never ruin anything. You make the world better by simply existing. I wish things were different, that we could have met differently.”

  “I very much wish that too,” Heather said. She was sure her heart was in her eyes.

  “Heather,” he said gruffly.

  “Don’t say anything more, Fallon. This is already too hard. I have to marry the duke, if he will have me. It doesn’t matter how my heart wishes otherwise. There was a time long ago when—” She couldn’t say it. It hurt too much. She wanted him to know that there was a time her family wasn’t crushed by scandal and debt, and she could have married him. She could have been a wife of a modest household, a steward’s wife—his wife. But that time was gone. There was no possibility now. She would only drag him into the gutter with her.

  “We both know what the world is like. This is the way it has to be.”

  Fallon swallowed and nodded. “I know, Heather. You will have your duke. You will see your sisters marry well. You will see your mother spend her remaining years in every comfort she could ever need.” He hugged her tightly again, brushing his lips across hers one last time before letting her go. It was time to bear all to her and pray for her forgiveness. Tomorrow this charade would end. She’d suffered enough because of him. “Goodnight, Heather.”

  She exhaled painfully. Her breath shivered out of her slowly and achingly. “Goodnight, Fallon.” She stepped away from him and turned toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, but somehow, she found herself outside the conservatory, and Anabelle was standing there.

  “I…”

  Anabelle just shook her head, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’ll tell your mother you’ve retired with a headache from the champagne.” She stepped forward and caught Heather’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. Heather nodded and they parted. Heather went up the back stairs, and Anabelle headed back the way they had come.

  Chapter 13

  The following morning was dreary and gray. The few who were awake—Lord and Lady Endervale, Lord Draven, and Rigsby—were taking coffee in the breakfast parlor when Fallon joined them. He was bleary-eyed and dog-tired from a restless night of tossing and turning. He needed to speak with Lord and Lady Endervale alone, but that seemed an impossibility as soon as he stepped in the room. He was about to retreat but Lord Endervale, who was still inebriated from the night before, beckoned him to his side. Fallon greeted everyone politely but avoided looking directly at Draven. He already felt violent toward the man.

  “Sit down, Calder. I wish to hear more of your duke. When will he arrive?” Lord Endervale said far too jovially. It was in stark contrast to the flagging energies of the other guests.

  “That is something I wished to speak with you about, my lord. If we could speak privately in your study?”

  “Nonsense!” Lord Endervale punctuated this with a belch.

  “I hope nothing is amiss?” Lady Endervale questioned.

  “No, my lady, but I would very much like to speak to both of you privately.”

  Rigsby looked like he was asleep with his eyes open, but Draven—damn him—looked as sharp as a knife and very interested in whatever Fallon had to say. “I will happily await you outside your study.” Fallon tried to leave again and stood, giving them no room to refuse him. As he turned to exit, a servant arrived and bent to Lord Endervale’s ear.

  “Who in bloody hell is Mr. Faegan?” Lord Endervale said belligerently.

  Fallon froze where he stood and slowly turned. He could feel the color leech from his face but said nothing. Behind him, the scuffle of footsteps heralded the arrival of another. Fallon fought the urge to roll his shoulders as the cold shards of ice slithered between his shoulder blades. It was a feeling that heralded impending trouble.

  “Your Grace, I hope I haven’t arrived at an inopportune time,” a familiar voice said behind him.

  All eyes turned to the visitor in confusion. All except a steely gray pair, which looked extremely pleased as they nailed Fallon where he stood. Fallon exhaled slowly. There was nothing to be done but accept fate with dignity. He’d handle this the same way he handled Bruce Dennehey charging at the castle gate in nothing but a tartan draped over his shoulder and a sword in his hand. He pivoted until he faced the new arrival. “Mr. Faegan, I believe I told you to wait until I sent for you,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Grace, but they needed the room for a poor widow and her six wee ones. I knew you would understand. I’ve eagerly awaited your summons now that my ankle is healed. I would have sent word, but I thought I could just as easily come myself.” Faegan shrugged.

  Fallon exhaled. “It’s fine. Let’s discuss this more in my room.” Fallon took a step toward the hall.

  “Hold on a bloody minute!” Lord Endervale bellowed. “What the devil is going on here?”

  Fallon’s shoulders drooped in defeat for a split second, but then he straightened to his full height, turned to face the other occupants, and introduced himself. “The Duke of Ablehill, at your service.” He bowed cheekily.

  “I knew it,” Draven said smugly.

  “You knew it? How could you have known it?” Lady Endervale suddenly came alive with indignation. “I know everything about everyone, but I didn’t know…” Her words faltered as she came around the table, examining Fallon like an unknown beast. “How could you possibly be the duke? The Duke of Ablehill is known throughout the world as quite advanced in years.”

  Fallon sighed in exasperation. He didn’t have time for this. “The duke of fable, that everyone is so enamored with, died a year ago. I am his son, ergo, the new Duke of Ablehill.”

  “Ablehill had a son?” Lord Endervale asked in wonder.

  “Not one he cared to acknowledge,” Fallon snapped off before he pulled himself together. “I must meet with my steward now.” He turned to leave.

  “Good god, man! But...why?” Rigsby asked in bafflement.

  Fallon halted at the door and spared him a glance over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Why would you masquerade as a steward?” Rigsby clarified.

  “Because he can, I’d assume,” Draven answered with growing mirth.

  Fallon continu
ed to the door, followed by Faegan.

  “I will never trust a handsome steward again!” Lady Endervale shrieked.

  Draven’s dark laughter followed them into the hall. Like a wildfire, Fallon’s identity would spread throughout the house in minutes. Everything he had hoped to do, before speaking with Heather, was pointless now. Time had been taken from him.

  Faegan apologized all the way to Fallon’s room, but Fallon ignored him until they were behind closed doors.

  “Enough, Faegan. What’s done is done. All we can do now is minimize the damage I’ve caused.”

  “I still don’t understand why you pretended to be me.”

  “Neither do I. It might very well be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. We must depart for London at once, but first I need to speak with Lady Everly.”

  “Yes, sir. Where would you like to meet with her?”

  “Lady Endervale has given me the use of her personal parlor. That is probably the best place. I can only hope she will have mercy on me and still allow me to marry her daughter.”

  Faegan frowned in confusion. “You really intend to marry the chit?”

  “She is no mere chit. She is a very special woman.”

  Faegan still looked puzzled, but he nodded nonetheless.

  They were both startled by a knock on the door. They looked at each other, then Fallon took a chair before the fire, and Faegan rushed to the door.

  He opened it, revealing a frazzled and angry mother. Fallon stood at once and bowed low.

  “My Lady—”

  “Is it true?” she asked with the sort of tone that would snap troops into line.

  “If you could clarify…”

  “Only moments ago, my maid informed me of particularly disturbing news. The steward, to whom I entrusted the welfare of my daughter, is in fact a duke, playing us all for fools. Is that true?” she barked.

  “I, ah...yes. It is true. I am the duke, my lady, but I swear to you, I never intended to make anyone look the fool.”

  “I demand satisfaction.”

  Fallon froze. Faegan let out a wheezy gasp.

  “Are you calling me out?” Fallon said in disbelief.

  “We were invited here under the pretense of meeting with the Duke of Ablehill. It was well understood that this meeting was a prelude to an engagement. My daughter will marry the Duke of Ablehill. Is that clear?”

  Fallon was nodding before she’d even finished. “Yes, Lady Everly. I have every intention of marrying Heather. In only a moment, I was going to request a meeting with you to discuss that very thing. The last thing I wanted was for my identity to come out like this. I was going to inform you and Heather, in person and privately, and explain everything to your satisfaction. Given the situation now, I would like to invite you and your daughters to come with me to London, where I can formally court Heather and tame any gossip that may arise from my stupidity.”

  Lady Everly nodded succinctly. “Very well. I accept your invitation. But you will have to do your own explaining to Heather.”

  “Yes, absolutely. My man will begin the preparations for our immediate departure. When can I see Heather?”

  “I will go and wake her. Shall we meet you in a hour in Lady Endervale’s sitting room?”

  “That will suffice. Thank you for understanding,” Fallon said with relief.

  “It is not for me to understand, Your Grace. It is Heather who must understand and accept you.”

  Fallon took that as a warning and nodded. Faegan held the door for her, closed it, and turned back to him with a grimace. “This Heather of yours sounds fearsome.”

  “She’s not mine yet. We can only hope, Faegan.”

  Heather was obnoxiously roused by her mother from a sleep so deep, it could have mirrored death. Violet was grumbling loudly about the intrusion at such an ungodly hour, when the strained tone of her mother’s voice finally roused Heather enough to open her eyes.

  “What is the matter?” Heather inched herself up to lean back against the pillows.

  “The duke is here,” her mother said without preamble.

  Heather’s eyes shot painfully wide. “He is?” Her heart sank.

  “Yes, but he has been here all along. I’m glad you are sitting for this, but it seems our dear Mr. Calder is the Duke of Ablehill.”

  Heather was speechless. Violet squealed with delight and jumped from the bed.

  “This is perfect! This is so amazing! Not an old duke, a young duke! A young, handsome, kind duke. Oh, Heather!” Violet wrapped her arms around her sister with glee.

  Heather remained mute and stared at her mother, who was anxiously biting her knuckle and watching Heather.

  “Dear? Have you naught to say?”

  Heather managed to shake her head with abject disbelief.

  “But you must say something.”

  “Say hallelujah—nay—sing it!” Violet cried with joy.

  “Violet, go see to your sister, and you are not to say a word about this to anyone. Do you understand me?”

  Violet shrunk under her mother’s glare. “What is the matter?”

  “Don’t you see the delicate situation we are in? Bess told me, that means all the servants know, which means the entire house now knows that our Heather spent a great deal of time with a duke masquerading as his own employee.”

  “This is wonderful news, isn’t it?”

  “He lied,” Heather finally said. “He lied to me.”

  “There will be an enormous scandal if we don’t take drastic action. His Grace has invited us to London, where he will formally court Heather. We must tread very carefully.”

  “Why would he do that?” Heather asked painfully. Her chest hurt now. The torrent of tears she had released only last night would now return with a vengeance.

  “He must have had a reason. Mr. Calder—I mean, His Grace has shown himself to be a very nice man. Can’t you overlook a little lie?” Violet pleaded.

  “It was not a little lie,” Heather cried with fury.

  “Heather.” Her mother walked forward and took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “He wishes to speak with you right now. I said he will explain all, and I truly believe it was not done to purposely hurt us. Will you go to him? Despite all that has happened, we still need him. The scandal will ultimately blow over, as long as we stand strong against the rumors and pretend everything is as it should be. There is a future to be had from this.”

  Heather pulled her hand away. She knew what her mother was saying, she knew what she must do, but inside, the anger and hurt spun like a whirling dervish. She thought she might even lose her composure all over the coverlet. She took a deep breath. The urge to cry was so strong her eyes felt like they would bulge from their sockets. She nodded stiffly. “I will speak to him.”

  Her voice sounded far away even to her own ears. She slowly slid out of bed, her limbs heavy and reluctant to move, and swallowed down the anger and tears. Instead, she wanted to face him looking as composed as she could manage. She didn’t say a word to anyone as she washed and dressed, and her mother led her to the study. They paused before the door, and her mother turned to her and took her hands.

  “Given the gravity of the situation we are now faced with, I am going to let you speak with him alone. I want what is best for you, Heather, and I want what is best for our family. I love you.”

  Heather nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She knocked on the door as her mother retreated. The door opened and Fallon stood there, looking as if nothing had changed.

  “Come in, Heather.”

  Heather entered and a new wave of anger swiftly washed over her. She clenched her fists in her skirts, but she couldn’t hide her emotions. She was sure rage was plainly written all over her face. He looked sheepish, but not nearly repentant enough to her mind. She wanted him to beg for her forgiveness.

  “There is so much to tell you, and so very little time. I’m afraid we will have to wait to truly talk about all that ne
eds to be said, but for now I wanted to assure you that—”

  “How could you, you deceitful wretch? You have humiliated me, ruined me. You’ve destroyed whatever chance my sisters had at an advantageous marriage.”

  Fallon looked at her in astonishment for a moment but then collected himself. “The moment I touched you, our destinies changed. I had to see what kind of woman would bind herself to a man like my father. But when I saw you, I knew there was more to you than desperation, and I had to know you, I had to get close to you. There are no rational excuses why, just know that I had to. You were always meant to marry the Duke of Ablehill, Heather. Somewhere, it is written in the stars. I am the same man you came to know, to care for, even. I just happen to also be the Duke of Ablehill.”

  “Why on earth would you lie to begin with?” Heather asked. “Who are you really?”

  “My given name is Fallon Derrick Calder. I am the only son of Richard Derrick Calder, seventh Duke of Ablehill. He died a year ago in Italy. I am his sole heir.”

  “Why did you lie?” she hissed.

  “I—I don’t know. This was my first time leaving Scotland, and I suppose it was just easier to be Mr. Calder than the duke everyone was waiting to gawk at. And then I couldn’t very well introduce myself as the duke after one day as Mr. Calder. I was raised in Scotland, an unwanted waste of a boy that my father determined too useless to live. I am more Mr. Calder than I am a duke. I am just a man with an impressive title and heaps of money, which I would dearly love to shower on you and your family. Please let me, Heather. Let me be with you as the man I am. I promise the scandal and the whispers will pale in comparison to the joy we will have together. I will give you everything that is in me, if only you will be my wife.”

  “You made a fool of me, Fallon. In front of everyone here.”

  “Do you care for their opinion that much? I assure you, as the Duchess of Ablehill, you will not. They dare not speak an ill word against you. I will always protect you.”