Wicked Temptations for the Seduced Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

  “Do you know Miss Veronica’s destination?” Adrian kept his voice even and calm, though he was bristling with adrenaline inside. That, and a sinking sense of despair. If Miss Veronica was not here, then where was she? And where was Edward, for that matter?

  “I do not, Sir. She left most of her belongings, if they may be of any use to you?”

  Adrian smiled. “Why yes, I imagine they may be. Might we take a look? We will not be long, and we will leave everything exactly as we found it. This really is an urgent matter, my good man, and we believe Miss Veronica’s life may be at imminent risk.”

  The butler nodded nervously. “Of course, Sir. I will lead you to the room she was staying in. She is a dear acquaintance of His Lordship’s daughter, you see, and Lady Kitty invited her to stay awhile. She was most distraught that Miss Veronica suddenly departed, without so much as a farewell.”

  “I can imagine.” Adrian pretended to sympathize and cast James a sly look as they entered the grand house. It was just as beautiful within as it was without, with a cavernous entrance hall and a tinkling chandelier that cast orbs of light onto the floor below. Exquisite paintings and portraits hung from the gilded walls, and the remains of a polar bear had been spread out on the parquet floor as a rug. Its dead eyes stared at Adrian as they passed.

  They headed up an elegant, winding staircase that gave a spectacular view of the entrance hall and came to a halt outside a room on the second floor. The butler let them in and lingered in the doorway as they entered. Adrian did not mind that they had an audience, for the butler did not know what they were looking for.

  James began to search through her suitcases whilst Adrian headed for a small, wooden box that had been hastily shoved under the bed. It lay askance, confirming his suspicions that it had been hidden in a hurry. Retrieving it, he lifted it out onto the bed and flipped open the lid. Inside, he found a golden pin, identical to the one that James had found in the boarding house.

  He pocketed it when the butler wasn’t looking and continued to search. Buried beneath an array of glass jewelry, he discovered a pocketbook. Opening it, he began to read the last few entries, realizing that it had been fashioned into a journal of some kind.

  He says he will meet me here, but I fear he has lied. I have no means of contacting him, for they will discover me here. My brother is already suspicious, and I am scared he may try to find me. I am terribly worried that he may already have apprehended my love on the road. I hope I am wrong.

  The entry was dated to almost a fortnight ago, when Edward had first disappeared. Encouraged, Adrian turned to the next page and read what Miss Veronica had to say. He reasoned she had forgotten the trinket box in her rush to leave and had not remembered that she had pushed it under the bed.

  He has sent word that there was some trouble on the road that has kept him away. He loves me. Oh, he loves me still. I was so worried that I had misplaced my trust in him, and that he had abandoned me here to certain destitution. If this elopement was discovered by anyone—his family or mine—there would be a scandal. There likely will be still, once we are wed, but it will be too late then. He has promised that he is coming to me still, I must simply be patient awhile.

  He moved to the last entry, which had been written in a hurry.

  He says he has had to hide out, somewhere near Chester. A figure chased him on the road and took him away from me. I fear that rider may have been my brother, and I know it will only be a matter of time before he uncovers my own hiding place. I hope my brother has not done anything foolish, for I could never forgive him. Oh, Duke, where are you? Come to me soon, otherwise I fear I shall lose my nerve all together. Perhaps I shall go to meet him in Chester, instead of languishing here in perpetual worry. Yes…if he has not arrived by tomorrow morning, I will go to him.

  The final entry was dated the day before last, when Miss Veronica’s brother was supposed to have departed London in search of her. He had evidently discovered that she had been hiding here, at Woolford Grange, but Adrian did not know if he had discovered Miss Veronica’s next move.

  “I found something,” Adrian said, calling James over.

  “What is it?”

  “It appears to be Miss Veronica’s journal. If this is to believed, I would guess that she has departed for Chester, to meet with your brother there.”

  James frowned. “Chester? What on earth would he be doing there? We know of nobody there.”

  “Perhaps that is the point, Cousin. I imagine he thought it best to hide out somewhere he would be unknown and sent some sort of message to Miss Veronica yesterday morning, which prompted her to leave in such a hurry.”

  “That does not sound like Edward.”

  “Nevertheless, the evidence is here.”

  James sighed. “So, what are we to do? We cannot ride all the way to Chester. It is several days from here.”

  “I suggest we return to Summerhill Hall and work out a new plan of action,” Adrian replied, keeping his voice low. “You are right, there is no use in us riding there now. Instead, I will write to some of my men, who are stationed nearby in Liverpool and ask them to scour the Chester area for any sign of him. They will apprehend him, if he is there.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  Adrian smiled. “So, at last you accept the use of my soldiers?”

  “What choice do I have?” James said sourly. “If you trust that your men can be discreet, then I have no qualms over it. Just insure that no word of this leaves their mouths, otherwise my mother we will be driven out of her mind.”

  “I will insure their silence, Cousin.”

  “Then, might I suggest we ride back the way we have come? We can stop at the roadside inn for the night and return home in the morning.”

  Adrian nodded. “Very good, Cousin.”

  They walked to the door with the pocketbook safely stowed in Adrian’s pocket and moved past the anxious butler. He followed them all the way down the stairs and watched them until they had departed the house grounds.

  It was not the outcome that Adrian had hoped for, but at least Edward was not dead. Chester was a large place, and Adrian did not think that Miss Veronica’s brother would know to look for them there. Adrian’s men, on the other hand, were skilled soldiers. If Edward was hiding in Chester, they would find him. By any means necessary.

  Chapter 22

  Lydia stirred in the armchair, to find her youngest sister asleep at her feet. Caroline was in the opposite armchair, snoring softly. A gray dawn shone in through the window, alerting Lydia to the fact that an entire night had passed, and nobody had woken her. Not even Violet, the maid. Looking down, she found she was still wearing yesterday’s blood-soaked dress, though the crimson fluid had long since dried.

  “Caroline?” She rose and shook her sister gently awake.

  “Hmm?” Caroline blinked sleepily.

  “Why did you not wake me?” Her heart raced, for she was eager to know what had become of Edward.

  “You were sound asleep, and I did not have the heart to.”

  Fear gripped her. “Why? Is he dead? Tell me he is not dead, Sister, I beg of you.”

  She smiled. “He is not dead, darling Lydia. I waited until the physician came, but he was still breathing and talking when I left the stables. He is being taken care of, and Mama would have come for you if anything bad had happened.”

  She most certainly would not. Unable to linger in the room any longer, she took off across the floor and hurtled out of the door. She did not stop until she reached the dining room, where the Duke and Duchess of Greenwick were peacefully dining, as if a gentleman had not almost died upon their grounds.

  “How does he fare, Father?” she asked without preamble, her tone desperate.

  “He is well. He has been taken to his bedchamber and Doctor Bartlett has remained with him through the night. By all accounts, he was rather fortunate, for the gunshot narrowly missed his heart. But he will recover, or so Doctor Bartlett says.”

  Her face t
wisted up into a bitter smile. “Then you must be glad, for you will not hang for the crime of murder.”

  Her father almost dropped his teacup. “What did you say?”

  “Do you think I am a fool, Father? Do you think I know nothing of your ploy?”

  “Lydia!” the Duchess shrieked.

  “Have you gone quite mad, Lydia? Whatever are you talking about?” The Duke stared at her with shocked eyes.

  “I know you did this, Father. Edward told me.”

  “Told you what, exactly, for I am certainly at a loss?”

  “He told me that he received a letter from Danson, which told him to meet me at the forest. He went because he thought I would be waiting for him, and he almost died for it. Although, that was no doubt your plan? Did you mean for him to be shot, or did you just want him to be frightened away?” She did not care what she said now, for only Edward mattered. As Caroline had instructed, she was mustering the courage to tell them of her love for him.

  “And you think I sent the letter?” her father spluttered in disbelief.

  “You do not wish us to be acquainted. You discovered that we were…growing close as friends, and you decided to chase him from this house.” Lydia’s eyes burned with angry tears.

  Her mother froze. “What did you say?”

  “I am close to him, and he is dear to me, Mother, and my dear father decided to frighten him away from the house. He was attacked twice, but you should have known better—he will not desert me, not even if you tried to kill him a thousand times.”

  She had expected her father to look furious or sheepish, but instead he seemed suddenly sad. Slowly, he set down his teacup and leveled his gaze at Lydia.

  “You would think so little of me? You think I could order the death of another gentleman? Me, your father?” His tone was raw with emotion.

  “I did not, but the evidence is insurmountable. Danson gave the letter to Edward, and you said that Danson had spoken ill of Edward. He is your man, after all, and I can only assume that meant he had told you of our…our friendship, and you took measures to see Edward cast aside.”

  Her father shook his head. “I would not harm a fly, Lydia. I have always been a lifelong pacifist. I would never have lifted a finger to have Edward ‘cast aside,’ as you have so graciously put it, regardless of what you have just told me. I confess, that has come as quite the shock, for I did not know that the two of you had grown close. In truth, I am rather perturbed by what you mean by ‘friendship.’”

  “He is my friend; that is what it means,” she replied.

  “Well, then he will most certainly be sent away. We cannot have you bringing scandal into the house, with this supposed ‘friendship’ of yours. I am no fool, Lydia. I can see quite well what you mean instead.”

  “Then I will go with him.” Lydia stood firm. “And I mean nothing more than what I say.”

  “You will do no such thing!” her mother barked in horror. “My daughter and common stable boy? I think not. I would rather see you shot than have such a thing happen in my household.”

  “He is my friend, Mother. You must not overreact.” Her cheeks had warmed with embarrassment. “Anyway, that is beside the point. You did this, Father. I know you did. Why pretend?” She turned the conversation back to her initial point, eager to have the answers she wanted from him instead of the focus upon her.

  “I assure you, I did not. Danson has said nothing to me, other than Edward is a daydreamer. He did not mention a friendship, nor has he alluded to any sort of untoward behavior between you and the stable boy, though I can only imagine what has been going on between you.” His eyes narrowed. “You are mistaken, Lydia. I had no hand in this tragic event.”

  “Then who sent the letter? Tell me!”

  Her father sighed. “I do not know, nor do I care at this current moment. As soon as Edward is recovered, he will be sent away from this house. I will not have you running around, disgracing our name with the likes of him.”

  “You would rather see me married to a gentleman I do not love? You would rather I endured a marriage, rather than enjoyed it? You would have me live as you have lived?” Lydia could not retract the hurtful words, though she felt a twist of guilt as she spoke them. Her emotions were bubbling over, and she did not know how to stop them from pouring out. She had already said too much.

  “Lydia, that is enough,” her mother warned.

  Her father, on the other hand, looked heartbroken. “I do love your mother, Lydia. I have always loved her.”

  “I have never seen you show her a scrap of affection,” she shot back.

  “Love does not always have to reveal itself in affection. There are other ways to love a person. I hope that I show my own love in the kind gestures I make, and the nice house that I have provided for my dear wife.”

  Lydia shook his head. “And what of passion? And desire? And longing? How can a person live without such things? I do not call that living, I call it emptiness.” She paused, mortified. “Not that I feel such things for Edward.”

  “And does Edward profess to be your ‘friend’ as well?” Her father’s tone had turned to one of curiosity.

  “He does.”

  “Then he is unworthy of you, Lydia,” her father murmured. “A decent gentleman would not have led you astray. A decent gentleman would not have filled your head with foolish hopes and impossible dreams. You cannot marry a stable boy, you realize that? Even if you love him, you cannot hope for such a mockery.”

  “I have said nothing of marriage, Father. He is my dearest friend, that is all.” She held his gaze, daring him to say otherwise.

  “You think me an imbecile, Lydia? I hear the truth in your words. You are a foolish little girl who has had her heart won by pretty words and idiotic gestures,” her father muttered in disgust. “I would have thought you smarter than that, but I was evidently mistaken. You are a fool. A little fool. I only hope it is not too late to repair the damage you have caused to yourself and to our reputation.”

  Just then, there came a knock at the dining room door, and Doctor Bartlett entered. Before he could say a word, Lydia rushed up to him with her heart palpitating.

  “Is he alive, Doctor? Is he well?”

  Doctor Bartlett chuckled. “My goodness, how enthusiastic you are. Yes, he is alive, and yes, he is well. In fact, he has just woken up, which is why I came to call upon you. You see, there is some good news.”

  “There is?” Lydia pressed.

  He nodded. “Why yes, it would appear that the stable boy has regained his memory.”

  Chapter 23

  Edward sat up in bed, his chest and shoulder aching from the wounds he had taken from the gunshots. Doctor Bartlett had patched him up well enough, but he had given him nothing for the pain. He winced as he tried to readjust himself, looking for a more comfortable position.

  But that was not the strangest part of what had taken place in the last twelve hours. The moment he had awoken from the rudimentary surgery that Doctor Bartlett had performed, he had found his memories restored. They had come back to him, whilst he was asleep, in a wave of vivid images. And, upon waking, there they were, as if they had never been away. He remembered it all.

  He was about to attempt to lie down when the door burst open, and four figures entered: Lady Lydia, the Duke and Duchess of Greenwick, and the Doctor. He had been expecting them, ever since Doctor Bartlett left. For a moment after waking, he had contemplated lying to the Doctor, and telling him nothing of his recovered memories, but they had tumbled out of him as if they’d had a life of their own.

  “You are awake?” The Duke spoke first. He wore a grim expression that Edward did not like the look of, especially now he knew who he was speaking with. With his memories gone, it had not mattered. But now…he was facing the sworn enemy of his father and grandfather.

  “I am, Your Grace,” Edward replied, feigning nonchalance.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Sore.”

  The Duke nodded unc
ertainly. “The good Doctor tells me you have regained your memories?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The words stuck in his throat. From birth, he had been indoctrinated to hate this family. And yet, when he laid eyes upon Lady Lydia, all that resentment drifted away.

  “So, who are you?”

  Edward took a shaky breath. “My name is Edward Godwin, and I am the Duke of Summerhill. I trust you know my heritage, from that small snippet of information.”

  The Duke stiffened. “What did you say?”

  “I am Edward Godwin, the Duke of Summerhill. It would appear I managed to remember my own name, when I fell from my horse and hit my head. Speaking of which, did anyone happen to discover a silver horse in the surrounding area? I am anxious to find my mount, for he is precious to me.”