To Dance with the Dangerous Duke: Clean Regency Romance (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 2)

by Arietta Richmond

  He would, he knew in that instant, do anything and everything within his power, to make her look that happy, every day. Behind them, the music ended, and before the orchestra could begin the next piece, Kilmerstan cleared his throat, and spoke, in a voice which would have been worthy of an actor on the stage, so strongly did it fill the room.

  People everywhere stopped and turned towards them.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement. Christmas is a time of joy, and the closeness of family and friends. It is therefore, a perfect time at which to celebrate the bonding of two old and noble families. I am pleased to announce that my sister, Lady Isabelle Rutherford, is to wed His Grace, the Duke of Dangerfield. Please join me in a toast to their happiness.”

  Footmen had scrambled, as he spoke, to provide glasses to all and sundry, filled with fine wine. Lord Scarpdale, who was close by, had frozen where he stood as Kilmerstan began to speak. Now his expression was black, filled with thunderous rage. Before the man could say or do anything, Lyon took a few large steps until he stood before Scarpdale. His voice when he spoke was quiet, but cold and hard, filled with the ferocity and threat which had led to him being called ‘the heart of danger’.

  “Don’t even think about it, Scarpdale. I already know where she was, when, and I am not concerned. If you try to blacken my betrothed’s name, I will make certain that all of your remaining gambling debts are called in, at once.”

  Scarpdale’s face paled, and a flicker of true fear was in his eyes. Then he drew himself up, sneering. Lyon waited, wanting his words acknowledged. He did not trust the man at all. Still, hopefully his threat was enough to make Scarpdale back down.

  “Dangerfield. I will not forget this. One day you will pay. But for now, I will do as you ask. If you are such a fool as to take a wanton piece like her as your Duchess, and expect her to behave appropriately, without some… reason to obey… then I pity you. Though no doubt the bed play will be at least pleasurable.”

  “Scarpdale, if you ever insult my betrothed again, I will see you at dawn, with pistols or swords. And I believe you know my reputation in such matters?” Scarpdale’s face went paler than it had been before, and he swallowed, fear clear in his eyes. “I see that you do. I will have your word on it, now.”

  Scarpdale made an odd growling noise of frustration, but spoke.

  “Have it as you will, Dangerfield. I’ll not speak of her and her scandalous past again. I wish you joy of it.”

  Scarpdale turned, and almost stormed from the room, gathering startled glances from those he pushed past. Lyon turned back to Lady Isabelle, to see Kilmerstan watching.

  “I do not know what just passed between you and Scarpdale, Dangerfield, but my instinct tells me that, whatever it was, it had something to do with both my sister, and your rather precipitate proposal. I do not need to know the details – I am happy with the fact that you have just demonstrated your willingness to defend her. But please… if you feel the need to defend her with a duel, which given your reputation seems possible, do avoid doing so in my ballroom!”

  Lady Isabelle looked between them for a moment, then burst into laughter, as all of the stresses of the last week and more were released.

  Lyon smiled, and bowed to both Lady Isabelle and Kilmerstan.

  “As you command, Your Grace.”

  ~~~~~

  The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of congratulations, so that Isabelle barely noticed the assorted other dramatic moments which she later discovered had occurred at that Ball.

  Her heart was full of joy, as she slowly began to believe that it was real, that her Christmas miracle had been granted, and that she had escaped Lord Scarpdale’s trap.

  And what a wonderful way to escape it! To marry the man she had come to love, the man she had dreamed of marrying, seemed the best Christmas gift she had ever been given.

  Epilogue

  The next morning, Lyon woke to the warmth of the room, and lay there, as the previous night’s events came back to him. He was betrothed. If someone had asked him, just a few weeks ago, if he would marry soon, he would have laughed in their face, yet here he was, betrothed, and actually happy about it. He rose, and rang for Fulham. As he dressed, he considered the discussions which would happen that morning.

  Would they wait to marry, and have the banns read? Or would it be better, all things considered, for him to travel to London, post-haste, and obtain a licence? So long as the roads stayed reasonably clear, he could be back within five days, perhaps less, licence in hand. He found that he rather fancied the latter idea – marrying Lady Isabelle sooner seemed well worth a hurried trip to London and back!

  After breakfast, he sat in Kilmerstan’s study, with an excellent cup of coffee, and they discussed it all – marriage contract, dowry, special provisions and more, as well as the licence question.

  Kilmerstan laughed when Lyon raised it.

  “Keen to wed my sister sooner rather than later, are you? Well, that’s a good sign. And I know its not the dowry that you care about, especially – you’ve as much wealth as I have, or more, even after your flirtation with gambling earlier this year. I’ll not argue it – a Christmas wedding will please everyone, and many of my guests will stay the extra week to see it done – all of the women seem to delight in attending weddings. That is, if you are happy to marry here, in this parish? I think my family, and the whole district, would like to see her wed in St Cuthbert’s church, here in Upper Nettlefold.”

  “Thank you. I’ve no objection to marrying here. My home parish is not such a welcoming place as this, and our church is in sad need of repair – a situation I must remedy, when I return. If we’ve done all that needs to be done for now, I will spend some time with Lady Isabelle, whilst my man gets things packed, and then be off to London today.”

  “I believe we’ve done all that we need to do. But whilst you speak with Isabelle, I will give my mother the news about our decision on the wedding timing. I suspect that she will have a complete panic at the idea of getting everything in place for a wedding and wedding breakfast in less than a week. The staff will be thrown into chaos. But they are used to her, and she is, though I rarely admit it, rather an organisational genius.”

  They spoke for a few minutes longer, then both went to set things in motion.

  Lyon found Isabelle in the conservatory. She sat on the same bench, but when she turned to him, her face filled with happiness. He felt almost light-headed with love for her.

  “Isabelle…”

  “Your… oh! I have just realised – I don’t know your given name! And I refuse to call you ‘Your Grace’ now that we are betrothed! Except in required formal situations, of course.”

  Lyon laughed at her words, delighted, yet again, at her straightforward approach to things.

  “My given name is Lyon. It was the subject of many jokes when I was a child.”

  “Lyon… it suits you – you are ferocious in defending what you care about.”

  “I do believe that is a compliment, my Lady. But I have come to find you, to tell you that I must leave you for a few days.”

  “Leave? But…”

  “I leave this afternoon for London, so that I might obtain a licence, to allow us to marry within the week, here, in the church in Upper Nettlefold. I trust…” he paused, realising that he had not asked her opinion, and feeling somewhat foolish – he could only hope that she did not mind rushing to the altar. “I trust that meets with your approval?”

  “Well… you might have asked me – what if I had wanted the banns read, and all of that? But no, I do not mind… the sooner the better, in fact.”

  He swept her into his arms, and kissed her, full of the delight of now having the official right to do so. She melted against him, responding passionately, and it was some minutes before they drew apart.

  “I love you, Isabelle, I will return as soon as possible.”

  She looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. Concerned, he reached for her again
. She gave a shaky little laugh.

  “Do not be concerned, Lyon, these are happy tears. I am so overwhelmingly happy – I love you, and I feel as if I have lived a nightmare for months – a nightmare that is now ended, because of you.”

  He kissed her again, gently, a kiss full of the love that filled him.

  “I should go – the sooner I leave, the sooner I will be back to you.”

  “Indeed. Oh!” she looked at him with wide eyes. “My mother… she will be near hysterical at the idea of only having a few days to plan a wedding. But she will do it, and drive the staff, and everyone else, to exhaustion to do so.”

  “That is exactly what your brother said. I think that I am, perhaps, rather glad that I will be on the road, and not here to be entangled in it!”

  Isabelle laughed.

  “You are lucky indeed. My mother is formidable. But kiss me again, and then go. Not that I wish to be away from you, but I do, most definitely, wish for you to return with that licence!”

  He did as she asked, and an hour later, his carriage rolled down the driveway, on the most important journey of his life.

  ~~~~~

  St Cuthbert’s church was full to overflowing.

  It was Christmas Eve, and almost the entirety of the town and the local area had turned out to see Lady Isabelle wed. When the numbers were added to by those of the nobility who had stayed on after the Christmas Ball, it made for quite a crowd.

  Lyon was bemused that so many wanted to see them wed, for the inhabitants of Dangerfield Mill village had never exhibited such interest in the goings on of his family and other local members of the aristocracy. But once he stood in the church, with the pale winter sunlight casting soft rainbows from the stained-glass windows, all thought of anything but Isabelle left him.

  She stepped into the church, and all he could see was her. Her dress was simple and elegant, a pale blue shade, with a thin lace overlay embroidered with violets, and embellished with tiny sparkling gems. The colours made her blue-violet eyes seem even more intense. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he wondered where on earth they had found a modiste to make such a beautiful gown in so little time.

  Then her eyes met his, and it was as if no one else existed. It passed in a blur, and when the vows were spoken, and the pronouncement made, they turned to leave the church together. Everything seemed unreal, dreamlike - he was married, and happy – happier than he had ever been in his life. People thronged around them as they left the church, and the town square was crowded with all of the people and carriages. Isabelle seemed to know everyone, and reaching their carriage took a very long time, but, finally, they were alone in its warmth, and on their way back to Kilmerstan Castle. He slipped his arm around Isabelle and she turned her face up for a kiss.

  “This time, I will not be afraid when I walk into the ballroom. For me, this wedding breakfast is the true Christmas Ball, where I can celebrate love and family without fear.”

  Lyon brought his lips to hers, and placed gentle kisses across her lips, her cheek, down her neck and onto her shoulder. She sighed, and raised her hand to tangle her fingers in his hair, and pull him back to her lips, that she might kiss him with a passion that conveyed everything she felt.

  When they reached Kilmerstan Castle, just before they descended from the carriage, he turned to her, and spoke softly.

  “I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never have to fear anything again. Every Christmas, we will hold a Ball, to celebrate the fact that there is always a way out of any situation, no matter how bleak, when love and courage are involved.”

  “And I will always believe what you tell me, for you have proven the truth of your words.”

  He kissed her softly, just a brush of his lips on hers, and then they stepped down from the carriage. At the door of Kilmerstan castle, there hung a sprig of mistletoe. Lyon pulled Isabelle to a halt in the doorway, immediately under it, and kissed her, much to the delight of the onlookers. Then they went in, to begin their life together.

  The End

  I hope that you enjoyed this story. You’ll find a preview of ‘The Duke and the Spinster’ which is Garrett and Juliana’s story, just after the About the Author Section.

  About the Author

  Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.

  She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 novels (8 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 17 novels, with the sixteenth having just been released.

  She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.

  She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.

  Be the first to know about it when Arietta’s next book is released!

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  When you do, you will receive two free subscriber exclusive books -

  ‘A Gift of Love’, which is a prequel to the Derbyshire Set series, and ends on the day that ‘The Earl’s Unexpected Bride’ begins, and ‘Madame’s Christmas Marquis’ which is an additional story in the His Majesty’s Hounds series

  These stories are not for sale anywhere – they are absolutely exclusive to newsletter subscribers!

  Here is your preview of

  The Duke and the Spinster

  A Nettlefold Chronicles Story

  Arietta Richmond

  Chapter One

  “Really Garrett, you are just avoiding the matter! You can’t put it off indefinitely!”

  The door shut solidly – not quite slammed, but close.

  Garrett Rutherford, the Duke of Kilmerstan, stared gloomily at his near empty brandy glass. Above him on the wall, the portraits of his father and his grandfather, looked down upon him. He felt their disapproval keenly.

  His mother was, of course, right – not that he liked to admit it. He could not avoid marriage forever, not if the title was to have an heir – for his cousin, Lord Giles Fortnum, would make a terrible Duke, and Garrett had no intention of allowing him to remain next in line for the title. But the eligible women available amongst the right strata of society were enough to make a man feel ill.

  He was beyond tired of being hunted by them, as if he could be caught and manipulated into choosing a Duchess. The harder they tried, the more he resisted.

  He had come to despise social occasions, and had hoped that, upon retiring to Kilmerstan Castle for the summer, he might largely avoid them. That assumption was proving irritatingly wrong.

  First, there had been the invitation, a few weeks past, to an occasion of sorts to welcome Viscount Mooresfield home. He had chosen not to attend, and was grateful for it, for, by all reports, the evening had degenerated into a shouting match between Mooresfield and the Earl of Banfield – an unpleasant man at the best of times, and one who Garrett was particularly displeased with, as he had been attempting to court Garrett’s sister Isabelle for some months. Anything that Garrett could do to break that association, he would.

  And now, an invitation to another event at Hallingbrook Grange – one which seemed to have some hope of being of a more genteel and appropriate nature, but which still did not appeal at all. For Mooresfield had disappeared, to London he believed, for a week after the last event to much gossip and speculation. And then, not long after his return, had announced, to everyone’s surprise, his betrothal to Marianne Jones, the Baker’s daughter!

  He knew that Mooresfield had never been very concerned with status, having spent most of his life as a third son, and never expec
ting to inherit, but still! Marianne was a nice enough girl, but the ton would crucify the man for choosing a commoner with such a background. He could imagine the gossip that must already be circulating.

  This latest invitation was to a week-long house party, in celebration of that betrothal. The guest list, as discovered by his mother, was extensive.

  He had to assume that summer boredom was responsible for so many of substance attending – or perhaps the spreading gossip meant that they all simply wanted to see the baker’s daughter who had captured the heart of a Viscount. Oddly enough, Isabelle had not seemed enthused at all, even though she normally loved social events. Regardless, his mother had almost begun to salivate at sight of the names of all of the eligible women who would be present.

  Garrett knew when he was fighting a losing battle – he would have to attend, at least some of the activities – thank God he lived close enough to not have to stay at Hallingbrook! But his mother would not allow him to escape this – the Duchess was a force to be reckoned with, when she had set her heart on something.

  Of course, if he attended, he would almost certainly see Lady Prudence. Lady Prudence Baggington was the bane of his life. She had decided some years before that she was destined to marry Garrett – and had thrown herself in his path at every opportunity since, even whilst he was still in mourning for his father, and his brother. She was the most irritating woman he had ever met.

  He swallowed the last of the brandy, and deposited the glass on a side table. Perhaps a brisk ride in the summer twilight would improve his mood.

  ~~~~~

  Lady Juliana Willoughby stared out of the window as the coach bumped over the last miles of the road to Upper Nettlefold.

  The Nettlerush River ran beside the road, and the scenery was rather pretty, with the summer flowers and the green grass. She would have enjoyed visiting such a pretty place, had they been visiting for any other reason.