A Night Rose for the Duke: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Fanny Finch

They shared his bed many more times, before she finally conceived a child. That had been their winning card. Luke had done right by Anna, and that was all that had mattered.

  Her daughter was now happily married, and her son, heir to James’ title and wealth. She had gotten all that she wished for. Why then, was she still after Eleanor’s sadness?

  Oh, but her daughter had married an Irish merchant, and Eleanor had gotten an English lord. Now, she was going to be married to a duke?

  Not while Sarah still drew breath.

  There was a knock on the doors and before she could call out, they came open. Her butler, Mr. George walked in and bowed, his face set in grim lines.

  She knew the butler did not care at all for her. She did not bother herself with the feelings of people beneath her.

  As long as he fulfilled his duties and accorded her due respect, she was fine with keeping him around. Beyond that, James bore a fondness for the man.

  “Yes, Mr. George?”

  “There is a young man here to see you, my lady. He introduced himself as Mr. Peter Mason.”

  She instantly lit up, completely forgetting Mr. George’s foul mood. Finally! He’s here.

  She quickly planted herself on the sofa she had been on before.

  “Please, let him in. And do ask Evelyn to send tea and a tray of biscuits down, would you?”

  Mr. George bowed once more as he backed away. “Of course, my lady.”

  Peter Manson joined her a few minutes later, and she eagerly settled into the discussion she had been dying to have with him.

  It was finally time to show Eleanor who the winner truly was.

  Chapter 25

  When one truly considered it, it was a thing of humor, Eleanor thought to herself.

  It was a thing of humor how often she had found herself in this situation in the past two months, and then some. Even now, as she thought of it, she half-expected her brother to speak up in any moment.

  After all, he had been throwing wary looks her way ever since he arrived in her home that evening and she declared she would be riding with him and Frances to the ball.

  She knew he had questions on the tip of his tongue. Questions he was dying to just spit out.

  Knowing her brother as well as she knew him, he would not be able to keep them in any longer. It was only a matter of time now.

  Her thoughts were confirmed when he suddenly cleared his throat, and stared directly at her. If she wasn’t so sad deep in her heart, she believed she might have cracked a smile.

  “You said Charles is occupied with business?”

  She did not miss a beat. “I do not remember saying anything concerning Charles. I simply asked if I could ride with you and Frances to the ball.”

  “Oh, right. Right.”

  There was a long moment of silence, but Eleanor knew it was not nearly over. So, she simply waited.

  As though on cue, her brother spoke again.

  “I assumed you would be going with Charles. He has been your escort for a while now. You two have grown quite close.”

  A bitter taste filled her mouth.

  “I assume we are not any longer. I haven’t heard a word from him in five days, which is very unlike him. Indeed, we were supposed to attend this ball together, but do you see him anywhere? I do not. And he did not send word either.”

  He had not replied to any of her letters, either - except for the first. She had expressed her worry in more than fifteen lines, and he had written back saying he was fine, and not to worry.

  That had been all. No more, no less. She was too mortified to share that with her brother or Frances, so she kept it to herself.

  “Hmmm. Strange. I wonder why. Perhaps something came up. I only hope that he is fine.”

  She was certain he was, but that too, she kept to herself. She simply nodded and mumbled in return. “I do too. We’ll see.”

  For some reason, she knew she would meet him at the ball tonight. She wondered how she would react. If she would speak to him, ask him why he had grown so distant lately, if she was guilty of any offence.

  If it was so grave an offence that he could not speak to her about it, and give her the opportunity to apologize for her wrong doings and thereby seek his forgiveness, then what was the essence of the friendship they claimed to have?

  She had thought of it over and over again, replayed their last meeting in her head.

  It was that day in her gardens. She could not point out one instance, that she had done or said something that could have been misinterpreted as an offence.

  She had not seen Charles since that very day, and tried as she did to ignore it, she could no longer deny that it hurt.

  The tightness in her chest, the heaviness of her heart, the sinking of her belly, and the dull throbbing ache in her ribs, they were all because of this sudden change from Charles.

  She could not fathom why and it bothered her all the more. She had considered reaching out to Rachel, but had decided against it.

  Worst of all, it could be that her fears were true and if it turned out to be that way, then she would have to move on with her life.

  She was fine before Charles. She would be fine still, without him.

  The rest of the carriage ride was silent, leaving her to her thoughts. Although, Edwin did not stop sending wary glances her way, and Frances joined in no time.

  Eleanor kept her gaze out of the window and begun to count the days until the season’s end, when she would return home to Grenshire and she would no longer have to sit through carriage discussions.

  An hour later, they stepped into Lady Margaret’s ball room. Like always, the room was swarmed with people.

  Eleanor received a few lingering looks. Unlike before, the looks were not hostile. If anything, they were laced with interest, intrigue and perhaps, a flare of admiration.

  Society had finally accepted that she was here to stay and they had grown weary of discussing her. At least, that was what she hoped. Besides, other juicy scandals had arisen to busy themselves with.

  Lady Grenshire no longer interested the gossip mill. What interested them about her now, was the woman she was slowly becoming.

  A woman she was coming to love more and more every day.

  If not for anything, she would be grateful for the shackles she had dropped, and she would forever love Edwin for bringing her to this season.

  She saw them just in time. She froze, thawed, and prepared herself for what was to come.

  “Eleanor! I have been keeping an eye out for you. Oh dear, it is a delight seeing you, as always!”

  The Dowager Duchess chimed as she walked towards them. Despite herself, Eleanor found her lips curving in a smile.

  It was a futile thing to try and resist the delight the Dowager Duchess carried around her and brought to people whom she cared for.

  The woman reached to where she was and leaned in for an embrace. Eleanor happily reciprocated, kissing the air on both sides of her cheeks as she did.

  When they pulled apart, she saw that this close, the Duchess’s eyes twinkled.

  Her hand came to rest softly on Eleanor’s cheek. “You are as radiant as the morning sun. You look gorgeous today, Eleanor. You always do. How do you fare, dear child?”

  “And you look no more than sixteen summers, Your Grace. I am very well, and you?”

  The Dowager Duchess gave in to unabashed laughter at this. “You keep flattering an old woman like me, it’s bound to get to my head. I, too, am well, as you can see.”

  “Yes. I can see. And I would never think to belittle you with flattery, Your Grace. I meant every word I said, and you know this.”

  The Dowager Duchess batted her eyelashes prettily as her cheeks stained with crimson. “Maybe not sixteen summers, but perhaps thirty?”

  Finally, Eleanor laughed heartily for the first time in days. “Ah, Your Grace. Sixteen, thirty? I fail to see the difference. It all sounds and looks the same to me.”

  The Dowager Duchess shook her head an
d patted Eleanor’s cheek once more. “I have told you, dear child, it is Emily to you. You are such a precious one.”

  Eleanor’s heart filled with warmth and a sudden urge to throw her hands around this woman and hold her in an embrace overwhelmed her. She bridled it nonetheless.

  “Your Grace…” It was all she could say. The emotions this woman awakened in her tied her tongue, rendering her speechless.

  In the few weeks she had known this woman, she had been kinder to her than her mother by law had ever tried to be.

  “Now, now, do not go teary on me for saying the truth. It would be a shame to ruin such lovely face. Your eyes, they shine brightly against this soft shade of green. And I like what you did to your hair,” she ended with an approving nod and moved on to greet Edwin and Frances.

  She knew what the Dowager Duchess had done, with the words she had not bothered to say, and it made her love the woman all the more.

  She fawned over Edwin and Frances as well and Eleanor would have enjoyed the scene if Rachel had not softly tapped her arm in that moment.

  “Hello there, dear friend. We meet again.”

  She smiled at Rachel. Pure and warm Rachel. “We do.”

  “I had reckoned you wouldn’t be coming. I saw my brother arrive with Mother, but he wouldn’t linger with us long enough for me to ask him about your welfare. I hope there is nothing amiss?”

  She shook her head eagerly. “Of course not. Circumstances arose that hindered us from riding together. It was much easier for us to meet here than for him to ride all the way to my townhouse just to collect me.”

  It was not a lie, but it was not the truth either. It was just enough to satisfy Rachel’s curiosity - she hoped.

  She dared to steal a glance at where the tall, broody duke was standing, trying hard not to make it apparent that he was staring at her too.

  She felt a stirring in her heart, and her chest tightened further. The ache seared when their eyes met, and she quickly tore hers away.

  Linking her arm with Rachel’s, she led her friend away, in the other direction.

  “You must tell me how the children are faring. It seems like ages since I have seen the little angels.”

  Rachel chuckled at this. “Devils, you mean?”

  “Pshaw, they aren’t terrible. They are children. Now, tell me, what have they been up to. I have missed them.”

  “If you have missed them so much, then you must come to the house. They would be delighted to see you and you know it is always a pleasure having you over.”

  “You know, I think I might just take you up on that. I should be able to call in in two days’ time.”

  “That would be absolutely lovely. I shall prepare for your visit.”

  They discussed a number of other things after that, and when Thomas came to whisk Rachel away for a dance, Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. Her attempt to change the conversation had worked perfectly.

  No words of Charles had been spoken between them until her departure. Now that she was gone and couples, including her brother and his Frances, filled the dance floor, she stood in one corner, taking it all in.

  She and Charles could have been on that floor, dancing away into the night. Having enlightening conversations, or just enjoying comfortable silence.

  Her head turned of its own volition, and her eyes searched for him in a crowd.

  His pulled her in, her heart finding him before all else. As their gazes locked, her stomach sunk.

  They remained that way for long, but he made no move to come to her, and she made no move to go to him.

  Eventually, she tore her gaze away. Her hurt began to turn to anger.

  Alas, instead of enjoying one another’s company, she was here, and he was there. Each of them at opposite ends of the room. Who would have thought they would ever come to this?

  What is wrong with him? What have I done? No… I have done nothing. He is the one retreating, and I refuse to carry the merest hint of guilt.

  If any apologies should be offered, they should be from him. And if any forgiveness should be given, it should be from me.

  As her lips settled into a tight line, mirroring her annoyance, she felt a presence beside her. Before she would turn to look, she heard a cool voice ask:

  “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady? They say the way to get a man’s attention is to make him jealous. Perhaps I could be of help?”

  Slowly, Eleanor turned to the man. She saw his shoulders first. And when she looked higher, she saw his face.

  It rang no bell. It was not familiar in any way, and she knew she had never seen this man before.

  He was not as tall as Charles. He appeared to be shorter by at least three inches. However, his eyes were kind and light - they twinkled.

  There was a warm smile on his lips, and the hand he held out to her seemed warm. He seemed friendly enough, and he arose no ill feelings in her.

  Who is this man?

  “I am not trying to gain any man’s attention,” she managed to say.

  His left brow cocked in question. “Forgive me, then. I must have misunderstood the tension between you and the fine lord over there.”

  She knew he was pointing at Charles. She wondered if he was watching them in this moment, but she could not dare to look.

  She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, uncomfortable at being caught by a total stranger. “Yes, I would say you did.”

  “Well then, would you still honor me with this dance, just for the sake of it?”

  She thought of it. This man seemed charming and although she had denied it, the thought of getting Charles’ attention by making him jealous appealed to her.

  Perhaps, seeing her with another man would return his senses, and cure him of this madness.

  Only if he nurses feelings for you… a voice whispered in her head.

  She shut it out, and instead, dazzled the gentleman in front of her with a bright smile.

  “Of course. On one condition though: I wish to know the identity of the man who shall be my first dance of the night.”

  He chuckled then, and removed his hat. His blonde curls which fell around his face, danced at the impact.

  “How awful of me. You must forgive my manners. I suppose I did not manage to be as composed as I had tried to be in the presence of such a gorgeous lady.”

  Flattery? She didn’t mind. It had been a while since a random man described her as gorgeous. She was human and was allowed to be vain and bask in the good feelings his compliment gifted her.

  “It happens to the best of us, I hear. No need to ask for forgiveness. It is no matter at all.”

  “Ah. Beautiful and gracious. I worry that my heart stands in trouble already. My lady, I shall linger no more, hence the dance ends before I get my chance.”

  He crossed one arm behind him and dipped into a flawless bow. “Peter Manson. At your service, my lady.”

  Chapter 26

  Charles was not a man to act impulsively or out of character. Every act he did, every decision he made, he only did so after hard thought and careful, very careful consideration.

  He often weighed the merits and losses of every situation and made sure that the former outweighed the latter before going ahead with a decision. It was why he seldom lived to doubt himself, or regret anything.

  Only one woman had made him do that in his entire life. Now, after so many years, he found himself wearing those same shoes.

  Like the first time, it was a woman who had given the shoes to him yet again.

  Eleanor. He would call her a festering plague, eating away at his mind and sanity daily. But that would be an atrocious way to describe his Eleanor.

  It would be a crime - one anyone would deserve being convicted for, including himself.

  Nevertheless, it was the exact way she made him feel. Before Eleanor, he had been fine. He had been well. Then, she had come and things had changed.

  Charles knew, in all honesty, there was no one to blame but himsel
f for this.

  His mother had spoken with him, but he had acted on her encouragement. He had decided to give love another try, he had agreed to pursue Eleanor.

  Yet, just as things begun to get bigger, deeper, become more, he had developed cold feet.

  After thinking for days and weighing all that he had needed to weigh, he had concluded that ending things before they went any further was the best.