by Lauren Smith
The Duke’s Dove
Twelve Days of Christmas - Book 2
Lauren Smith
Contents
On the Second Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
A Fowl Christmastide
About the Author
Other Titles By Lauren Smith
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The Duke’s Dove © 2020 by Lauren Smith
Seducing an Heiress on a Train © 2019 by Lauren Smith
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-952063-04-6 (e-book edition)
ISBN: 978-1-952063-05-3 (print edition)
On the Second Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
1
England—Christmas Eve 1821
“It’s a damn cold night, eh, Nathan?”
Nathan Powell, the Duke of Hastings, glanced in irritation at his younger brother, Lewis, who was just visible in the light from the coach lantern. The flame rippled and sputtered as the lantern rocked slightly with the moving conveyance. It was a poor night to be out on the road and traveling. Nathan’s mood was often dark of late, but now it was bleaker than ever. When they’d set out from his estate, only a few miles away, the skies were already heavy with winter storm clouds. It would be his luck to be snowed in for Christmas at someone else’s home.
Christmas was a holiday he very much despised. It was a season of love, of joy, of hope. The three things he no longer had. But that was to be expected when he’d had his heart broken eight years ago.
“Nathan, you didn’t have to come tonight.” Lewis’s usually teasing tone softened. “I know how you feel about this time of year. Perhaps you could try to enjoy it, just this once?” Lewis was only twenty-five, three years younger than Nathan, and he still had the fresh hope that youth carried when it came to the holidays.
Nathan knew his brother didn’t mean to sound pitying, yet he did, and it set his teeth on edge. As a duke, it was not his place to be pitied by anyone. His father had taught him that very well indeed. A duke was a man of power, and his very title demanded respect, even from his own family.
“I promised Sir Giles I would make an appearance,” Nathan grumbled.
Giles Pemberton had been a dear friend of his mother and father, more so to his mother than the late duke—that man had had few true friends. His sour demeanor and rigid control had left much to be desired when it came to forming lasting relationships with anyone, including his own wife and children.
“Yes, well, I’m sure Sir Giles will be glad you came. I certainly am. It wouldn’t do at all to show up without you to something so grand as this.” Lewis’s mood was already brightening again as he seemed to be thinking ahead to the grand party that awaited them.
It had taken quite a bit of convincing from Lewis to make the party seem worthwhile for Nathan. He kept to himself these days, focusing on the tenant farms and his time spent in London while he served in the House of Lords. All else had lost meaning to him in the last several years. Life itself had withered away, each moment lacking a purpose, a reason to continue.
I’ve become an empty shell.
Lewis started speaking again, the entire conversation nearly one-sided—not that Nathan minded. He wasn’t even paying attention to what his brother was saying. Lewis was an easygoing sort and always had something to say, but Nathan no longer had the heart to participate. As children, they had been close, almost inseparable. When Nathan’s dreams for the future had been cut to pieces, his relationship with his brother, his mother—his relationships with everyone—had withered like a vine in winter. Nathan gazed out the coach window, lost in thoughts as his eyes roved over the miles of snow-covered land.
Lewis is a lucky devil. He envied Lewis’s freedom.
As the head of his family, Nathan had few choices he could make freely. Even after obeying all the rules, he’d lost so much. Far too much. He buried the bittersweet memories deep in his splintered heart, welcoming the ache in his chest. It was a pain he deserved because he had caused it.
“How much farther?” he growled.
“He speaks at last,” Lewis said with a laugh. “Any minute now.” His brother peered through the small coach window. “I believe I see the lights from the house.”
They emerged from a line of evergreens to the welcoming sight of Pemberton Hall, the home of Sir Giles and his family. The lights from the house illuminated the white snow, casting a gold glow. A few coaches ahead of them were lined up before the grand doorway into the Palladian-style manor house.
The hall itself was an expanse of tan stone nestled among trees that were laced with fresh snow. The windows on the ground floor were illuminated with candles, and Nathan could see the dancing couples as his coach stopped before the doors.
“We’re here,” Lewis announced with a grin. For a brief moment his eyes locked with Nathan’s, and Nathan didn’t miss the hint of pain in Lewis’s eyes. “I hope we’re in time for the festivities.” The words sounded a little forced, as though he feared he wouldn’t enjoy the evening if Nathan did not. That bothered Nathan greatly. Lewis was entitled to live his own life, make his own fortune, and choose his own fate. He didn’t deserve to suffer alongside Nathan.
“It’s a ball. You’ll have hours to seduce the young ladies.” Nathan’s lips formed a thin smile as he attempted to tease his brother. It had been so long that he’d almost forgotten how. “I’m sure there’s plenty of mistletoe to aid you in your nefarious mission.”
“Seduction is nefarious? Gracious, I am quite a devil then,” Lewis quipped. “What about you, brother? Finally going to settle upon a duchess now that . . .” He didn’t finish, but Nathan knew what words he’d nearly said.
Now that you’re free of Father’s control.
“Heavens, no. I plan to die without an heir so that you might inherit all the trouble.” Nathan did actually smile more naturally this time as he saw Lewis’s mock look of horror.
“Never say so, Nathan. You know I’d make a terrible duke. Sitting all day in the House of Lords, listening to men bicker and gripe. And apparently more than a few of those lords snore . . .” His little brother shuddered. “Yes, we must find a young lady for you tonight, and you shall beget an heir at once, if only to spare your beloved brother from becoming a duke.”
“You may be the only man in England who’d refuse a dukedom.”
“And rightly so. What a mess I’d make of things,” Lewis said quite honestly. “Now, let’s see. Sir Giles sent me a list of who was invited to the ball. Shall I run down the names for you?”
Since Nathan had no intention of actually seeking out a lady to marry, he found no harm in letting his brother play the matchmaker while they waited for a footman to assist them.
“Very well, who is on this list of yours?”
“There is
an Italian countess recently widowed—Rafaela Sabatini. Rumored to be quite a beauty, but likely has a temper. You know how those Italians can be.”
“I think the term you’re searching for is passionate, Lewis. Italians are passionate.”
“Right, passionate.” Lewis’s blue eyes glowed with mischief. “And then there’s Emma Christie, the daughter of Viscount Fordham. I hear she’s quite adept at cards. Never play against her if you value your coin.”
“Lewis,” Nathan said with a chuckle. “I’m sensing that the ladies who caught your attention all seem to have a bit of a vice.”
“Well, vice is more interesting, isn’t it? Would you really want to meet a lady who has nothing interesting about her? A girl who paints silly watercolors or gossips over tea? Christ, no. A man needs a woman who has the same desire for a colorful and interesting life as he does.” Lewis declared this with such an air of ancient wisdom about him that Nathan decided Lewis had to be teasing him.
“Very well, what of the boring chits? Regale me with tales of them,” Nathan demanded and bit his lip to hide a smile.
“Boring chits . . .” Lewis tapped his chin. “There’s always one or two Poncenbys running about. Pepper, I believe, is still unwed.”
“Let us pass by Pepper. I cannot stand that dandy she calls a brother.”
“Very well, no Poncenbys. Well, the Russells might be there.”
“I thought you said you were telling me about boring chits. Lysandra Russell is rumored to be a rather interesting eccentric, and I have no interest in tangling with her wild brothers, no matter how fascinating the lady might be.”
Only then did Nathan see a gleam of cleverness in Lewis’s eyes that told him he’d played right into his brother’s plans.
“Well, there is one more family worth mentioning. John Swann is in attendance tonight, along with his family.” Lewis rubbed his palms over his thighs in eagerness. “A multitude of opportunities there.”
“The Swanns are coming? Why didn’t you mention this from the very start? You know very well I wouldn’t have come. I . . .” Nathan’s words died upon his lips. For a second, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Would she be here tonight? The woman he’d loved and lost nearly a decade ago?
“So I’ve been told. All seven of Swann’s daughters were invited.” Lewis cast a curious glance at Nathan. “Didn’t you almost propose to one of them? Thea, wasn’t it?”
“You know damned well I planned to marry her before Father prevented it!” Nathan nearly snarled. His fury had returned.
“That’s right . . . Well, I was a young lad when you did that. I was more focused on putting frogs in the cook’s apron pockets than I was listening to you about your romantic affairs. I certainly avoided Father whenever I could,” Lewis reminded him gently, but it didn’t erase the blinding pain that filled Nathan’s chest.
Theodosia Swann. My Thea. Even after all these years, Nathan’s heart still claimed her as its own. He’d only ever loved one woman, only ever wanted one woman. And despite having a duty to produce an heir, he could not envision a life with anyone else, not after having loved and lost Thea. He must live in this hell of his own making because he deserved it—because he’d broken her heart along with his own. She would be six and twenty years old by now, likely married to some man. She would have a handful of children—children Nathan would have given anything to have fathered.
“Surely most of the Swann sisters are married by now,” Lewis mused. “There might still be one or two young enough to . . .” But Nathan ignored whatever Lewis said next, letting his thoughts run away with him, far back into the past.
2
Eight years ago
“Father?” Nathan stepped into his father’s study. The duke was seated at his desk, his head bent as he looked over a stack of papers.
“What is it?” his father barked at him.
“I . . . uh . . . sir, I wish to have an audience with you. It is of the utmost importance.” He glanced back toward the door, where his mother stood just outside. She nodded in encouragement. She had convinced him that now was the time to seek his father’s permission to marry. His mother approved of the match, of course. Who would not adore Thea Swann? His mother waved a hand at him, and then she quietly closed the study door to give Nathan privacy with his father.
“What could be so bloody important? I have to review these letters by the end of the day and have my answers composed at once, so out with it, boy,” Hastings snapped.
Nathan had practiced this speech a thousand times. He desperately wanted to tell his father all the things that lay in his heart, yet he feared what would happen when he did so. His father was a cold man, a man who didn’t believe love or passion should exist in a marriage. He believed in land, money, and powerful connections. Thea’s family offered none of that. They were but landed gentry from the country. Yet anyone who had met Thea would know that she would make a perfect duchess.
“I wish to propose to Miss Swann today. I’ve already spoken to her father about it, and he has given his consent.”
The duke raised his head, this time his full attention focused on Nathan.
“You are planning to do what?” The iron edge to his tone warned Nathan that this was not pleasing news to his father.
“I . . . wish to marry Miss Swann.”
“No.” The reply was so quick that for a second Nathan thought he’d merely imagined it.
“Father—”
“No.” His eyes were frosted with quiet rage as he gazed at Nathan. “A pretty face is not important. You must marry wisely. I will choose your bride for you. And you will not marry, not yet. You shall wait until you are at least five and twenty before you select a bride.”
“But—”
“That is my final word. You will not disobey me.”
Nathan’s own anger rose. “I will not disobey you? Pray, tell me, Father, what can you do to stop me? I am twenty years old, well within my rights to marry if I choose, and the lady’s father has consented.” He had made his choice. He would not let his father stop him from marrying Thea.
“What can I do?” His father didn’t even stand to face him. His cruel lips twisted in a terrifying smile. “I can purchase the debts Mr. Swann owes his creditors—and I can take his whole world away from him and his brood of useless daughters. When he is penniless and starving and his daughters are whoring themselves, you’ll be the one to blame.”
Nathan acted without a second thought and lunged across the desk, fist swinging, and he struck his father. The man grunted and fell out of his chair to the floor. He touched his mouth, blood coating his lip, but he curled that lip in a sneer as he gazed up at Nathan.
“Never speak of Thea or her family that way again,” Nathan warned. Cold fury to rival his father’s layered every word.
“Be careful, boy. I’ll let this pass today, but if you dare breathe that chit’s name again or speak against me, I will destroy her and her family without a second thought.”
Nathan didn’t doubt his father’s threats. He’d never imagined that his father wouldn’t approve of Thea. The Swanns were a good family. They were not an embarrassment, and they had no scandal attached to their name. They simply weren’t of the peerage. Nathan hadn’t fathomed that would be a crime. Yet clearly it was to his father—enough to ruin his life and Thea’s if he didn’t end his understanding with her.
Nathan straightened his waistcoat and stepped outside of his father’s study, his head a little fuzzy and his ears ringing as though he had been the one to take the blow and not his father.
“Nathan? What did he say?” His mother had been hovering nearby, and she came straight to him.
“I cannot have her, Mother,” Nathan whispered, the words slicing his throat. “He will not let me marry Thea.”
“Oh . . . oh, my poor boy.” His mother put an arm around his shoulders as his world crumbled around him.
When his gaze met hers, he saw her sorrow, her pain. She understood better tha
n anyone what having a life destroyed meant. Marrying the Duke of Hastings had stolen her away from the man she’d truly loved and wished to marry, but she’d been trying to help her own family out of difficulties. She too had burdens to bear when it came to the cruelty of her husband. He did not raise a hand to her, but his words and his moods were black enough to wound as deeply.
“He . . . he said he would ruin Mr. Swann if I married Thea against his wishes. I am not even to speak her name . . .” For the past two years, Nathan had felt like a man, not a boy, yet in the last few minutes his father had reduced him to a frightened child. All he could think of was Thea and what would happen to her if he did not obey.
“You must go see her one last time. Tell her the truth. She deserves to hear it from you. Then you must let her go. Someone new will love her, marry her and give her all that you cannot. While your own heart breaks, you will take comfort in knowing she is safe and happy, even though she is not with you.” His mother’s words choked slightly as her own pain from the past bled into her speech. Her dark hair, streaked now with hints of silver, and the blue eyes that held such love for him and Lewis now clouded with tears.
“Mother—”
“You will always know that I understand what it means to lose the one you love. I am here for you, my boy. Always.” She’d dried her eyes, and he’d regained some of his composure, enough to walk her back to her own private withdrawing room, where she could have some time to grieve for her own past.
He squared his shoulders and walked toward the front door. A young groom met him at the door, and he called for his horse to be readied. The Swann manor house was not far, only a quarter of an hour on horseback.