A Night Rose for the Duke: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance
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Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Fanny Finch
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Table of Contents
A Night Rose for the Duke
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
The Extended Epilogue
Be A Part of Fanny Finch’s Family
The Redemption of the Puzzling Governess – Preview
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Fanny Finch
A Night Rose for the Duke
Chapter 1
“Are you certain you do not want me to come with you?”
Eleanor Ashford smiled at the genuine concern she could hear in her brother’s voice. She shook her head as she stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him.
“I am simply going to the market for some shopping, Edwin, not the battleground.”
Edwin Wimbledon cocked his brows in a way that Eleanor usually found charming and completely adorable. His eyes twinkled as he feigned surprise, his voice teasing.
“There is a difference?”
Unable to help herself, she chuckled, shaking her head.
“No, there isn’t, dear brother. However, you must believe that I can fight my battles. Beyond that, no one would recognize me in my veil and drab clothing.”
Edwin said nothing in response. He only took his time to look her over. Then, he smiled in agreement, satisfied by his perusal.
“You are right. No one would recognize you. However, if any problem arises, do not hesitate to call for me.”
Not missing a beat, Eleanor answered, “I won’t, Edwin.”
“Promise me, Eleanor.”
Again, she smiled, as her heart warmed by his affection.
He loved her dearly, she knew this beyond doubt. He had proven it in countless circumstances. She loved him just as fiercely in return.
“Truly, Edwin. I am certain that the people of London have been occupied with better scandals since my departure. Surely, they are not about to start wagging their tongues after so many years now, are they?”
He was going to say something in protest but she stopped him, a polite smile on her face.
“I promise, Edwin. If any matter arises, I shall call for you.”
Edwin covered the distance between them in three strides, and took her soft hands into his. His blue eyes searched her amber gaze.
“Thank you, Eleanor. You know I worry about you for good reason. You have had to suffer too much and if not for me, you wouldn’t be here. I want to protect you at all costs.”
This time, Eleanor smiled as her heart swelled with powerful emotions for her brother. She withdrew one hand from his, and reached up to caress his cheek.
“You worry too much. I am a grown woman now, and I can take care of myself. One who hears you speaking would assume that I am in grave danger.
“Do not be so grim, dear brother. There is nothing they could possibly throw at me that I would not be able to shake off. I am your duck, remember?”
For the first time since this conversation began, Edwin smiled brightly. Eleanor knew that all was well, in that moment.
“You have always been too strong, too stubborn and too wise for your age,” he said. “Fine, you win this round. I shall not stall you any longer.”
He released her other hand and took two steps back, then turned to look at the lady who had been standing beside them, quietly watching the scene unfold.
She was Frances Jones, Eleanor’s best friend and companion.
She was also the woman who her brother was in love with, but was too scared to pursue. However, the way Edwin looked at Frances in that moment, the way he had been looking at her in recent days, assured Eleanor that that would not remain the case for long.
His eyes shone with an entirely different kind of emotion. From the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw her lady’s companion flush pink and look away, breaking eye contact with Edwin. It thrilled her greatly.
She had hired Frances three years ago, when her husband had died. Eleanor had been so lonely, and had reckoned that having a companion would be lovely.
Frances was a baron’s daughter who had been in search of employment at the time. They had immediately liked each other and felt at ease with each other. Eleanor did not have a single regret.
Over the years, the two had come to develop a profound friendship that came with love, mutual respect and care for each other.
The only thing that would remove Frances from Eleanor’s service was marriage. Eleanor liked to think that, when her brother finally grew the courage to court Frances, the lady would remain in her life as more than just a friend. That she would become a sister to her.
The way she saw it, it was a beneficial situation either way.
After all, one of the reasons she had agreed to come to London this season, was to make sure that this summer did not pass by without seeing the both of them happily wedded in holy matrimony.
“Take care of her, Miss Jones,” Edwin pleaded, his voice soft.
Frances could barely hold his gaze as she responded. It was such an amusing thing to watch.
“I shall, sir. However, you more than anyone know that the lady is capable of caring for herself.”
“Yes. Still, it pleases my heart to know that you shall be with her.”
Frances murmured her response. Still avoiding his gaze, she sank in a shallow curtsy.
Edwin bowed in response, though it was completely unnecessary. He waited until Frances had risen, before returning his attention to Eleanor.
“Very well, then. I shall visit my business ventures to see how things are moving. Do not take too long. Night sets too quickly these days and the streets of London have become more dangerous over the years.”
“We shall be back before the sun sets, brother. Have a good day.”
“And you. Farewell.”
As those last words were said, Eleanor spun on her feet and began to head for the large mahogany doors that served as the fore entrance to the Ashford townhouse. Frances followed behind, and so did the other maids that were accompanying them on their journey.
As she reached the door, she paused and drew her veil over her nose. Once she had it arranged carefully and securely, she nodded at the door.
The b
utler, Mr. Yates, understood perfectly well, and proceeded to open the doors for his lady. Eleanor muttered words of appreciation as she walked past him.
A carriage was waiting by the time she was done descending the stairs. With the help of her footman, she climbed into it.
As soon as the other ladies were seated with her, she gave two knocks against the wall of the carriage. They took off, the horses sending the wheels rolling down the streets as they galloped.
The journey to the market would be a long one, Eleanor knew. Their townhouse was located in a quiet part of London, free from most of the noise and crowds.
It would be some time before they arrived at their destination. Eleanor surmised that it would be good to put it to use and assess her thoughts. The ride would be a quiet one, she knew.
As she looked out the window, taking in the obvious changes that had occurred since the last time she visited London, she acknowledged how grateful she often was for peace and quiet.
Eleanor immensely enjoyed the sound of silence for one reason: she could hear her thoughts, loud and clear.
She could sieve through them, walk through them, untie the knots that left her confused and throw away the things that threatened to make her spirit weary.
As the carriage took them further towards the market, the thought that took the fore post in her mind, was her conversation with Edwin.
Indeed, her brother had had good cause to worry about her wellbeing. Truly, it was not as though she was in any grave danger - certainly not physically. However, there was a great likelihood that she would come to emotional harm.
It had been three years. Three seasons since she last set foot on London soil.
Back home, when she had finally agreed to come to London with Edwin for this season, she had reckoned that she was now strong enough to return to a place that held unpleasant memories for her.
Too many unpleasant memories. The last time she had been in London, she had lost her husband. The only other man, aside her brother, that had truly loved her.
Even as she had mourned, the whispers had reached her. Such a shame a man like the Earl of Grenshire perished in this way. But it serves her right. She deserved it.
Those who had come into her home to share condolences had said spiteful words as they left, believing that the walls did not have ears. Oh, but they did, and they had whispered these words to Eleanor in return.
It had taken little time to learn that these words also roamed the streets of London. The moment she had felt strong enough to make the journey, she had left London for Grenshire, the county where her late husband had lorded over as its earl.
The county which she now oversaw as Lady Grenshire, its Countess.
She had remained in the county for the whole year that constituted her mourning period and after it had ended, she had refused to return to London, had refused to partake in any season for two more years.
Grenshire was peaceful. The people there loved their countess, they adored her and they respected her.
In London, well, she held no one’s regard. The people who lived in London did not give it freely, except when one made them bow by enforcing their power and status.
She was not one of such people to wield her powers that way. So, she had stayed where she was loved.
Her nose itched, and she lifted a hand to scratch it through her veil. She had not worn this veil in two years, it would surely take some time to get accustomed to.
After the mourning period had been completed, she had abandoned her black clothes for other drab colours - shades of brown, grey.
After another year, she had begun wearing clothes that had brighter colours, but not so bright that they called too much attention.
The moment Edwin had succeeded in convincing her to come to this season by his side, she had known that she would not be able to live such a life in London.
Eleanor was aware that a part of her wanted to hide from the people, from their vicious whispers. It mattered little. She was not concerned with defying that part of her.
She simply wanted to have a quiet season. Perhaps attend a few balls, see a few plays and opera performances, take some walks in the park - all the whilst, keeping her identity hidden.
She had made her household understand that, until she was ready to do otherwise, she was not to be called by her name outside of the townhouse.
Nevertheless, she knew that it was only a matter of time before word got around that Benjamin Ashford’s widow had returned to London. When that time came, Eleanor would decide the course of action. For now, she was quite content with living in the shadows.
They had arrived in London only two days ago. As refreshingly different as the air smelled, she could not bite back the feelings of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm her.
If only Edwin had not requested this favour, so he could properly court Frances, she truly may not have given in. Alas, here she was.
Enough brooding, she chided herself, as the carriage rolled into the market. She was doing more than enough by hiding herself. Since she was here, it would be best to make the most of it.
Certain that no one would recognize her behind this veil, she was sure she could enjoy her time here in London. She had to.
These were the thoughts that remained on her mind as the carriage came to a stop, bringing her back.
As soon as she came to, the noise of the market’s commotion came rushing, filling her ears to the brim. She tore her gaze from the window, noting that she truly had not seen anything, but had simply been staring.
She turned to Frances who was staring at her with curious eyes.
“We are here, my lady.”
She flashed her friend a bright smile in return, eager to ease her worry. Frances knew her well enough to know that she had gotten lost in her thoughts, once more.
“Indeed, we are. Shall we?”
All the ladies were helped down from the carriage by the footman who had ridden alongside with the coachman in front.
As Eleanor’s feet touched the ground, she drew in a deep breath and looked around to take everything in. The stalls, and the stores. Errand boys running around, gentry and other people of status making their purchases.
The market was just as she remembered with only a few differences to mark changes. She was back, and out here, in the open.
A feeling of anxiety tried to rear its head, but she shut it off. None of that, not today, she told herself.
Looking at the servants she had brought with her, she gestured at the whole market, waiting to be explored. And with the brightest smile she could muster, though they wouldn’t see it, she said:
“Ladies, shall we begin?”
Chapter 2
“My lord, do you hear me, at all?”
Charles Duncan raised his head to look at the man seated in front of him. There was a pause as he tried to concentrate on the question that had been asked.
He smiled at the young man whom he considered to be his right hand.
“Ah, my apologies, Winston. I got lost in thoughts, trying to decipher what is wrong with these records. Something seems not quite right. It is as though there is a confusion somewhere. I only can’t seem to determine what it is.”
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.
He very much disliked it when his accounts did not balance. He knew this was no fault of his accounts officer. Someone, somewhere, somehow, must have created the wrong records.
“The ledger, my lord?” Kennedy Winston, asked.
Charles nodded his head. “Yes. The total sum here is above two thousand pounds. However, we have spent a sum of over three thousand pounds. I do believe that we must have purchased something that is not accounted for.”
“Have you asked the Dowager Duchess, Your Grace? She may have bought something without your knowledge. You know how women are. Her ladyship may have forgotten to mention it to the accounts keeper.”
Once again, Charles went into thought as he considered this.
Beyond that, with the season around the corner, his mother had been doing a lot of shopping with his younger sister. She loved nice things and, once in a while, fancied spoiling herself.
“You know what, Winston? I believe this the most probable answer. I shall speak to my mother about this. I am certain she will remember easily, if that is the case.
“If it is not, then we may have to bring out all the receipts and make certain the issue is not from the entry.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Charles nodded, willing to put the matter aside. However, something remained in his mind, gnawing at him.