Romance: REGENCY ROMANCE: The Duke of Hearts (Historical Regency Victorian Duke Romance) (Historical Regency Fantasy Romance)

by Lisa Andersen

  She tried to reclaim sleep, but it wouldn’t come. She walked to the desk and lit a candle, and hunched over a French novel about a woman who is stolen from a small town and carried to Paris, where she learns how to become a proper lady. Only at the end was the small town French woman rumbled, when she failed to read a piece of Greek script. She was thrown aside by the man who had stolen her and was forced to return to her town, disgraced.

  Elizabeth closed the book. The sun was rising. She fell into bed and closed her eyes. From pure exhaustion, she was able to sleep for a few hours.

  She woke to a knocking at the door. The Duke wanted her to join him for breakfast. Part of Elizabeth wanted to scream: I’m not coming to breakfast. In fact, I’m going home this very minute! But the pull of the Duke was strong. Harold was a man who was extremely well-suited to her, despite his dishonesty. And as much as she hated to admit her weakness, she wanted to see him again. She wanted to look into his eyes and have him look back into hers. She wanted to feel his hand on her leg. God help her, she was attracted to this man.

  She dressed in a simple gown and walked to the breakfast room like a woman walking to the gallows. She was doomed by her own attraction to him, she realized. But if she was doomed, so was he. And she knew one thing: if she had to, if it really came down to it, she could completely shut off her emotions and sever her ties with this man. Dishonor or no dishonor, Elizabeth could do it if she had to.

  Harold looked anxious upon her entry. He nearly jumped out of his chair and rushed around the table to pull Elizabeth’s chair out for her. Elizabeth gratefully sat and waited for breakfast to be served. They ate a simple meal of bread and meat, and then the Duke leaned forward on his elbows and stared at Elizabeth. “I am sorry for my dishonesty,” he said. “Truly, I am.”

  “If you are lying about this, what else are you lying about? That is what worries me the most. We have not known each other for very long. What secrets am I to discover after we have married?”

  “You can ask me anything, and I will answer honestly. But the King’s direction is the only secret I have that pertains directly to you.”

  “I will judge that,” Elizabeth said. “For example, have you been with a woman before?”

  “Yes,” Harold said, looking down at the table.

  “How many?”

  “Six.”

  “Six!”

  “How is that possible?”

  Harold shrugged. “I have travelled, Elizabeth. But they were always flings, over within a day and never thought of again. I want to marry you, to make you my wife, and to serve you well. That is the truth of it.”

  She looked into his eyes and tried to gauge if he was being dishonest or not. As far as she could tell, his feelings were sincere, but how was one to know? For all she knew, he had used these same exact lines on the other six women. But there was the lust, as well, that was calling out even now, as she looked at him. How she wanted to touch him more, and have him touch her more. How she wanted to go further than a kiss…

  Stop it, she told herself. Stop thinking like this. It is not proper! You are a lady!

  But thoughts of that kind were not so easily extinguished. “I would have some proof that you really wish to marry me,” she said slowly.

  “How am I to prove it to you?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I do not know. But that is that I require.”

  “If I can prove that I am sincere, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said, far too quickly. She laughed at her own eagerness. “Yes,” she repeated. “If you can prove it.”

  The Duke nodded and then rang the service bell. The freckle-faced girl Elizabeth had seen around the Castle walked in. “Katherine,” Harold said.

  “Yessir?”

  “Have you heard the good news?”

  “The good news, sir?”

  “Yes! You haven’t heard? Elizabeth and I are getting married.”

  The girl’s face lit up and she congratulated the two of them before retrieving the plates. Harold grinned for the first time since Elizabeth had met him. “You see?” he said. “She will tell the other servants, who will tell the messenger boy when he comes in the morning. Before you know it rumors will be all over England. We are, for all intents are purposes, publically engaged. But just to make it more definite…” He rose and walked to a table upon which rested a quill, inkpot, and paper. He scribbled quickly and then handed Elizabeth the paper.

  It read:

  Mr. Hawk,

  I am delighted to inform you that your daughter and I are engaged,

  Signed,

  Harold Stonewall

  He folded the paper and enclosed it in an envelope, which he sealed the Stonewall seal. “I would be a flagrant liar indeed if I denied that I wrote this letter, seeing as it bears my signature and my seal. Now, I will send this off immediately.” He rang the service bell again. A different servant entered this time. She grinned as she collected the plates. “Congratulations, m’lordm m’lady.”

  News does travel fast.

  “Take this letter to town and have it sent to the Hawk residence immediately,” Harold said. “I wish for England to know of our engagement as soon as possible.”

  After the servant had left, Harold returned to his seat and smiled at Elizabeth. “Is that sufficient proof, my lady?”

  “Harold, I want to ask something of you, but I fear it may be monstrously unladylike.”

  “Ask away, Elizabeth. Social mores have never overly interested me.”

  “Would you accompany to my bedroom?”

  Her mouth was dry as she said this. She was worried that the Duke might laugh at her, or turn on her utterly. Instead, he rose to his feet and walked around the table. Standing over her, he offered her his arm. “Let us retire for the morning, my lady,” he said.

  *****

  Harold placed her on the bed as though she weighed nothing and began undressing her. Every part of Elizabeth was alive with anticipated pleasure. Her private area was pulsating with warmth. Harold’s body was strong and firm over hers as he unlaced her bodice and threw it upon the floor. Soon she was naked, laying on her back and looking up at him. He pulled off his own clothes until he, too, was naked.

  His body was muscular, rippled with strong, tense muscles. His skin was white and hairless. Scars marked him here and there, but they were faded and did nothing to detract from his attractiveness. “I will be inside you soon, my lady,” he said.

  His private area was hard and big. She had never seen a man’s parts before, but as soon as she saw this one, she knew it would be amazing. She reached out, and he walked toward her, and then her hand touched it. “What shall I do?” she said.

  “Rub it, my lady,” he said.

  She rubbed it up and down, gripping it in her hand and hoping she was doing it right. She was so excited that with her other hand she reached down and began to rub her private parts, that special hot spot on the outside that she sometimes rubbed even though she knew she shouldn’t. Harold began to moan. He reached down and grabbed her breasts, pushing them together, tweaking her nipples with her fingertips.

  Then he leaned over her and parted her legs with his knees. “It will hurt at first,” he said. “But then it will feel amazing.”

  Slowly, gently, he pushed himself inside of her. He was right. At first, for the first few minutes, the pain was extraordinary. She bit her lip and closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass. And then, as he began to go quicker, the pain faded and a white-hot pleasure replaced it. It was warm and wet and like nothing she had ever experienced.

  She lifted her legs and began to move with the motions of his thrusts, pushing down as he thrust into her. His private went deep inside of her, touching a hot spot that caused pleasure to pulsate through her body. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as something built within her, like water against a dam, building, building. All she knew now was his private entering her, the heat between her legs, the tingles all over her body. She pushed down aga
in and again, and then—

  Everything released in one rush; the water washed over the dam. Pleasure washed over her body. She let out a loud moan and Harold pushed into her harder and faster, pushing and pushing, thrusting hard and deep. Both of them were moaning now; pleasure had captured the two of them at the same moment.

  Harold rolled onto his side when it was over and took Elizabeth in his arms. “That was incredible,” she whispered. “I never knew it would feel like that.”

  “I never knew it could be like that,” Harold said. “It was never like that before.”

  They lay there in silence until around midday when Elizabeth woke to a kiss on the forehead. Harold was leaning over her, his hands in her hair. “I have an idea, my lady,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “Let’s get married today, right now.”

  “Harold, are you—”

  “Yes, I mean it. If we did not love each other, we would be in a terrible situation now. The only decent thing for me to do would be marry you. Luckily, I want to marry you. I think I love you, Elizabeth. Why should we wait?”

  Elizabeth did not need to think about it any longer. The only possible negative was that Father and Mother would not be able to be there. But if Father came he would only ruin it in some way, and Mother would never come without Father. She jumped to her feet, still naked, and threw her arms around him. His hands reached down for her buttocks and began to rub. “Later, we’ll do it twice,” he said into her ear.

  She giggled and kissed his neck.

  “I will call for the parson,” Harold said. “Dress, and we will be married within the hour.”

  He left the room and Elizabeth went to the dresser and sorted through the clothes.

  What an odd series of events, she thought, a wide smile on her lips.

  *****

  She had chosen a simple white gown for the wedding. Harold was dressed in his military garb. The parson gave a traditional speech about the sanctity of marriage, and then asked them both if they wanted the other person. Elizabeth had no problem saying I do, and neither did Harold. Within the hour the two of them truly were married.

  Afterwards, they walked the grounds of the Castle hand in hand. It was good to feel his bare hand against her bare hand, skin on skin, and not have to worry about scandal or retribution of any kind. They were man and wife now; it was the most natural thing in the world for man and wife to walk hand in hand together. They walked into the woods and far away from the Castle until they came to an enclosed copse of trees where they could sit and pretend that the greater world did not exist. Sitting on an upturned log, Elizabeth truly felt as though they were the last people alive.

  “This is only the start,” Harold said. “My lady, we will have a beautiful life together. I believe that a man and wife can never fully know each other, but I promise to do my best to know you as well as I know myself. I want us to become one, my lady.”

  “Where do you think we will be in five years, my love?” Elizabeth wondered.

  #

  The Hawk family is no longer spoken of with such vindictiveness. The marriage between the Duke of Summersat and I put an end to that. Soon after our marriage, the Duke paid off the our family’s debts in full, and invited Father and Mother to come and live in the Castle (in their own wing, of course). This allowed us to check Father’s gambling before it started. He has not gambled in five years, and he grumbles less, too.

  The Duke and I are as one; or, rather, the Duke and our two children our as four. He was everything I wished him to be on that day long ago in the woods, where I rested my head on his shoulder and talked of the future, and he laughed and said he would give us everything. The King has even visited us once or twice, and Charlotte practically begs me to come to some social function or other.

  But I am content to lay awake at night in the Duke’s arms, breathing heavy from our lovemaking and looking to the future which still looks so bright.

  Perhaps, Ms. Diary, this proves something. Perhaps this proves that one does not have to conform to cunning and meanness to get along in the world. Perhaps this proves that one need not have a heart of ice. Take the Duke, for example. He used to be cold, but now he has thawed and grows warmer every day.

  Perhaps ice often hides the warmest hearts.

  BONUS BOOK: The Devil’s Dance

  Bertrand Collins Margrave-Bertie to his friends-looked at his reflection in the full length mirror and was quite pleased with the image that looked back at him. His official title was Lord Haverbrook and he had reluctantly made the unpleasant journey from London to his stately pile in Derbyshire. Bertie preferred life in London by a long chalk and was happy that his elderly aunt resided in the Haverbrook estate. She looked upon it as her own and Bertie was happy to let her believe that as it kept her acid tongue under control. His London town house was elegant and close to everything he loved. Bertie loved theatre, art and most of all everything fashionable and the latest crazes. Aunt Agatha had sent word that she was ill and he needs must come to visit immediately. When Bertie arrived at the large and resplendent residence it was to find his aunt in robust good health and she desired him to make changes to the house in accordance with her wishes. Bertrand Collins Margrave was not amused in the least and had gone to bed in a fine old mood wondering how soon he could return to London.

  The next morning he twirled in front of the mirror and took in the elegant riding clothes that he wore. Tight fitting trousers and a short jacket with a smooth line across the waist and elegant tails behind. The waistcoat was blue brocade and the white cravat elegantly tied. The narrow riding boots accented his well-muscled legs and he thought to himself that Badger Timkins would not look half as fashionable. “Still be good to see the old boy again.” He thought and smiled as he thought about the surprise on Badger’s face when he rode up to the door. Bertie was, in fact, a handsome young man and much pursued by young ladies in London who had their eye on becoming Lady Haverbrook. He was tall for the times and stood at about five feet ten inches with dark, slightly curly hair that was currently cut in the latest style with sideburns and a great deal of hair on the top of his head. He actually didn’t need to make himself look taller but that was what had driven that particular fashion. He had dark brown eyes that could look meltingly appealing and surprisingly, the man was toned and fit.

  Bertie left his manservant to sort out his wardrobe and went to visit his stables. He still kept a fine collection of horseflesh despite being away such a lot of the time. For that matter he kept a fine selection in London as well. He had sent word ahead for his favourite mount to be ready and the stable hand was waiting with reins in hand. Haverbrook slid into the saddle with easy grace and slipped a top hat onto his head. He knew he was riding through the woods and fields but still fashion was fashion and he donned the hat. Then set off at an easy walk until he was clear of the gates and urged the stallion to a gentle jog. Bertie enjoyed riding and settled to enjoy the ride to visit Badger. The way to his friend’s rather beautiful residence was through the land belonging to Lady Tupperham. The old lady had always let Bertie treat the land as if it was his own and he knew the way through her estate well. The track passed through woodland and then came out at some paddocks behind the stables. It was not far until he would enter Badger’s gates but suddenly he saw in the stable yard a young woman. She saw him at the same time and stalked, yes that was the word, stalked to the gate and shouted at him. “I say who are you riding through here? This is private land.”

  Bertie steered the horse in her direction and stopped in front of the obviously annoyed young woman. “I might ask you the same, young woman. This is the land of Lady Tupperham. You appear to be trespassing.” She put her hands on her hips and observed the newcomer with a look that told him she was not the least impressed by what she saw. “Lady Tupperham was my aunt. This is my estate and you still have not told me your name.” She almost but not quite, stamped her foot. Bertie slid from the horse and found himself face to face with
the woman. It was not lost upon him that she was wearing a most up to date riding outfit in light grey. She was about five feet four inches high and did not step back as he stood in front of her. “Did you say ‘was’?” He asked. “Lady Tupperham. Did you say was?” He demanded again and the girl nodded.

  “Yes, sadly, my aunt passed away three months ago.”

  Bertie was taken aback. “Nobody let me know.” He said almost to himself and then remembered his manners. “I am so sorry to hear that.” He told her. “I am Lord Haverbrook from the next estate. I am on my way to visit at the Timkins residence. Lady Tupperham always allowed us passage across her land.” The girl was not impressed and said that maybe he should ask permission in the future. Bertie was not used to treatment of this sort and felt a sudden rush of anger which was most unusual.

  “I most certainly will not.” He answered. “I will simply go the long way round-Miss?”

  “Caroline Carstairs.” She told him and held out a hand. “Aunt Mary left me the estate.” Bertie took the hand to shake and was unprepared for the jolt of lightning that shot up his arm and through his veins. He went on shaking the hand for some seconds and looked quite dreamlike. Caroline smiled for the first time and extricated her hand from his. “I have to go.” She told him and walked away leaving him still wondering what he had just experienced. At the same time though she rubbed at her own hand as if the same sensation had happened when they touched. Bertie shook himself into activity and mounted his horse. The he watched the rather elegant riding outfit with the delightful decoration on the rear of the jacket disappear into the stable yard.

  *****

  The beautiful façade of Badger’s house appeared in front of Bertie and the manicured gardens were as trim and smart as ever. Badger was a traditionalist and liked his place to look well groomed. The two men had been friends since childhood even though they were as unlike each other as it was possible to be. Bertie rode around to the yard at the rear and a man came out at a run to take the horse. Bertie took his tall top hat in his hand and strode around to the garden door where he knew he would find his old friend. The staff looked on in horror as he should have been announced but the man simply pushed open the door and announced himself. Badger looked up from the paper on his desk and took a second to realise who had appeared and then he leaped to his feet and rushed across. The two men threw arms around each other and jigged around the room like a couple of ten year olds. “Oh Bertie. What a delight. I did so need you to cheer me up.”