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

by Fanny Finch

  That was the reason he had begun to keep his distance from Eleanor. He was scared, truly scared that what happened with Elise would repeat itself.

  Maybe not in the same way, exactly, but in a way that would break him nonetheless.

  Elise had affected him so much because he loved her. He would be a fool to deny that he had not fallen hopelessly in love with Eleanor. He had.

  After that day in her living room, after his resolve and their agreement, she had opened like a flower blossoming in spring. A Night Rose, as they called her, but in his mind there was no poison associated with the name.

  It was the most beautiful rose he had ever seen, fresh, unique, and incomparable.

  Before then, he had thought he knew Eleanor, but she had shown him after that day that he did not, not really. And as he came to learn more about the wonderful creature she was, he had known that he could not continue to do this.

  To love her hopelessly, and to wait for the moment when she too would take his heart and break it.

  Eleanor was nothing like Elise… Perhaps. Nevertheless, Elise had been nothing like Elise before he had married her.

  People changed. They became other people, and he knew this now. And rather than wait for Eleanor to become someone else, he had reckoned that the wise thing to do, would be to put his distance, and learn to cope with her absence, forget that she ever existed.

  But how could he? When she was everywhere. His thoughts, his dreams, his books. Everything reminded him of Eleanor. There was nothing he could do to escape her. It was nearly driving him mad.

  And tonight? She had had to come, looking so breathtakingly ethereal in that lovely shade of green dress. He had been unable to keep his eyes off of her for too long since she stepped into the ball room.

  Now, he had to watch her dance with another man, smile up at him in that way Charles had fancied was reserved for him only.

  He was the one to blame, he knew this. He had been wrong to dissolve their friendship.

  When he had held her gaze earlier, he had seen the hurt in her eyes, and it had almost broken him, and his resolve.

  He knew that he had been selfish. Nevertheless, he was only human and every human, more often than not, acted in their own interest.

  He was simply protecting himself, and his heart, and if Eleanor got hurt in the process…

  No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t possibly love him. She must only feel slightly disappointed that he had given up on their friendship so soon.

  Why else had she looked at him that way? Why else had she written those letters he had read until he memorized every word? Surely, the answer could not be love? Surely not.

  He thought of asking another lady to dance. Although, the knowledge that almost every agreeable lady had already been taken, was not lost on him. It was a foolish thought, anyway.

  His insides churned with jealousy, but he was not about to begin another fire with another woman, whilst the fire he had built with Eleanor was yet to be completely put out.

  He was not about to build another fire, period. He cast one more long look at them. When he saw her head fall back in light laughter, his insides clenched.

  What is so humorous? The gentleman must be quite the jester.

  Deciding not to torture himself so foolishly any longer, he turned and stalked out of the ballroom. He would find a quiet place, and he would drink a glass of wine - or two.

  ***

  Charles stayed out of the ballroom for most of the night, and years of discipline helped him to bridle his alcohol intake.

  By the time he returned to the ballroom, the ball was almost over and he had managed to stay sober.

  Out of habit, he sought out Eleanor in the crowd, and easily spotted her with the same gentleman from before, seated at her table.

  They appeared to be in an interesting conversation and they spoke so energetically, that he wondered what the topic of discussion was.

  He studied her face. She looked happy, truly happy. And she seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

  It could have been him, right there. With Eleanor, by her side, talking to her. Sitting at a vantage point where he could enjoy all the thousand emotions that often played over her face so freely when she spoke.

  It was one of the things he fancied about her. How she so freely expressed all that she felt inside. She was an open book - one he had grown particularly fond of reading.

  He huffed and turned towards his table. He had to stop staring. One had to simply observe him closely to easily guess what was happening. He knew how pathetic and love sick he must appear.

  “I thought you had called it a night and left your mother with no means to go home,” his mother spoke as he joined her at their table.

  He cracked a small smile. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “I would never, Mother. You know this. At least, not without informing you of it. And if I had, Thomas would have been more than happy to see you safely home.”

  “Indeed. Where have you been?”

  “In the library. I found some books that piqued my interest. Lady Margaret does have an impressive taste in literature.”

  “That, she does. I had the same thought the first time I perused through her shelves. I am sure she must have made a great many more additions in the time since then.”

  “I reckon she has. There are some recent pieces in there.”

  “Hmm. A day when my own son would choose literature over a friend. I never thought it would come.”

  He bristled, and winced. He had seen this coming, but he held no interest in discussing it nonetheless.

  “Said friend does not seem to be in need of my company.”

  “Only because you deserted her first. What were you expecting? That she would follow you around all evening? Like a loyal dog on a leash, seeking her master’s attention?”

  This time, he flinched. “I would that we do not regard her in such a way, Mother.”

  “What do you care? You have not treated her any better, leaving her without so much as a word of explanation, ignoring all her letters.”

  “I did reply to one.”

  “Of course. I wonder if it contained the truth of your cowardice.”

  “Mother…” he warned sternly. He was in no mood to be scolded by his mother.

  “Mind your tone, Charles. You might be a duke, but I am still your mother. What has the poor girl done to you?”

  He sighed, and dragged his hand over his face. “This is neither the place, nor time, Mother.”

  “You are just running away from an honest conversation. I had noticed something was wrong from the moment it went wrong.

  “However, I had held my peace and waited patiently for this day to be certain. You have barely said a word to the girl all evening.”

  He released a breath of frustration. As if the battle he fought internally was not terrible enough. “Nothing passes you by, Mother.”

  “When you have lived for as long as I have, very little does. This is about Elise, is it not? You have grown cold feet again?”

  “Mother, please, let it be. You do not understand.”

  His mother dropped her cutlery in exasperation. It made him feel sad.

  “I do not know why you have decided to continually let a ghost haunt you.”

  “Mother, I pray thee, I beg of thee, leave it be. This is something I shall have to handle on my own.”

  She shook her head at him, then lifted her napkin to dab at her mouth. As she placed it carefully on the table, she said her last piece.

  “That girl is nothing like Elise. She is as pure on the inside, as she is beautiful on the outside. I had thought I had done a great job, raising my son to be sensible enough to be able to tell such things. Apparently, I had not.

  “She has been through a lot. She does not deserve such treatment from you. The least you could do is find some courage and let her know this is not her fault in anyway.

  “I only hope that you do not regret losing what mig
ht be the best thing that has happened to you as yet.”

  She rose, and added, “I would like to go home now.”

  She walked away from Charles and he knew she would bid a few friends farewell before they had to leave.

  He remained rooted on the chair, thinking of her words.

  I only hope that you do not regret losing… The problem was, he already regretted it.

  He remained at the table for a while longer. Then, finally, he stood up. Determined, he begun to make giant strides towards Eleanor.

  She must have felt him approach, for she looked up and, once again, their gazes locked.

  A million emotions swirled inside of him, but he managed to keep all of them from reaching the surface.

  As he reached her, he greeted her brother and his lady before turning to Eleanor.

  The gentleman she had been dancing with – Peter Manson he’d learned his name was - was nowhere to be found. He assumed the man had taken his leave. It was just as well.

  Stilling his voice so that he would not betray the turmoil inside of him, he spoke to Eleanor.

  “My lady, may I have a word with you?”

  He saw her features harden, and he feared she would not grant him audience.

  Not that he would fault her, if she did not. He had made a royal mess of things, and he was not about to make it right. He was simply interested in lessening the error of his actions.

  He released a visible sigh of relief when he heard her say, “Certainly, you may.”

  She took her leave from her companions and together they walked out onto the balcony.

  As they reached the railing, silence began, and lingered. She was the one who broke the spell.

  “I do not assume you have brought me out here to stare into the dark. Or am I wrong, Your Grace?”

  Unlike before, the use of his title felt so formal, and he was aware that he was the one who had taken the easy camaraderie between them away. Even now, he could see her struggle to act as though she was relaxed.

  He felt the tenseness in her shoulders, and saw the stiffness in her spine. Eleanor was wary of him, as she should be.

  “No, you are not wrong, my lady.”

  She winced at his use of formal addressing, and he saw it. She said nothing, so he let it pass. His insides folded into a knot.

  “We do not have all night, Your Grace. My brother will want to call it a night any time now.”

  “Indeed, as he should. I apologize. I shall not keep you much longer.”

  He turned then, so he could face her, but she remained in her position, her side to him.

  “I must apologize, Eleanor. I have wronged you.”

  “Which wrongdoing do you seek forgiveness for, Your Grace? Discarding my letters, or refusing to honor your duties as an escort tonight? Might I add, that you did so without prior notice, warning, whatsoever.”

  Her voice was hard, fierce. The only time he had ever heard her speak like this, was that night, to her parents.

  His face fell. “For all of it, Eleanor. I understand that you must be angry. I deserve all of your anger and more.”

  “I am not angry, Your Grace. Far be it from me to think myself worthy enough to feel any kind of annoyance towards you. Far be it...”

  She lingered, so he remained quiet, waiting for her to say all of her piece.

  “I am simply confused. I wonder what wrong I could have done to deserve such treatment from you.”

  He heard the hurt now, clear and loud. Beneath the annoyance, it laid. And she struggled to keep it hidden, in a bid to cradle her pride.

  “You did nothing, Eleanor-” except make me fall in love with you. But how was he to tell her that?

  She finally turned around to face him. “So why? Why have you decided to stop being my friend? And with no word of explanation?”

  He swallowed hard. “I simply thought it best. Perhaps I did not go about it in the best of ways, but I did believe - still do - that I was acting in our best interest.”

  “How is that?”

  “You are an unmarried woman, Eleanor. Just as I am an unmarried man. It matters little to society if we have both been married before. As it is now, neither of us have spouses.

  “We have begun to draw too much attention - our friendship, that is. I knew it was only a matter of time before both our reputations got called into question.

  “We have been a subject of public speculation for far too long. I thought it noble to spare you the pain of any more.”

  He dared to look into her eyes then, and he read the confusion in them. Her mouth dropped open and for a few seconds, she struggled with the right words to say.

  “Since when did you begin to care about the society’s whispers?”

  “Since I had to think of someone other than myself.”

  “So, all of this is to protect me? My reputation?”

  “Yes.”

  “You did not think it fair to consult me before making such a drastic decision, Your Grace? Especially since our friendship was a mutual agreement?”

  “I reckoned it would be easier that way. I know now that I was wrong. It is why I have come to plead your forgiveness.”

  She sighed. “It is not the only thing you were wrong about. You were also wrong about the effect society would have on this, on me.

  “I have been the subject of much worse, where gossip is concerned. Their speculation concerning the nature of our friendship is nothing compared to the vicious lies that have been spoken about me in the past.”

  “I offer my deepest, sincerest apologies, my lady. I did not mean to bruise your feelings in any way.”

  “You did not. Rest assured of that. I simply wanted to understand the reason behind your sudden change. Now that I do, I can sleep easy, knowing that I committed no wrong I was not aware of.”

  He gave a curt nod, suddenly rendered speechless.

  “Well then, I shall take my leave. Thank you for telling this to me. I enjoyed your friendship, Your Grace. While it lasted. It was going to come to an end at some point. I suppose there is no harm that it did so soon. I bid you farewell. Have a lovely night.”

  “I bid you the same.”

  It was all he could manage to say, and as she walked away from him, the bitter taste of regret lingered at the back of his throat. He detested it.

  Chapter 27

  Eleanor

  “I do believe I have won this round, dear Peter,” Eleanor chimed excitedly as she placed her last card on the table.

  They were in her home, that lovely evening. She was hosting a few friends to dinner, many of whom were Edwin’s friends in truth.

  The game of cards had begun two hours ago. Now, it was only Peter and her left at the table.

  Peter drew back into his seat to study the cards, a small frown of concentration on his face.

  She watched him, slightly amused as his brows furrowed. He was looking for a loop, she knew this. He often did.

  This time, he would find none. She had made certain of it. She had played her cards well and victory was certain to be hers.

  His furrowed brows cleared as he realized this, and he released a sigh of defeat.

  “Not fair. I was certain I would win this one! You must have spun this game in your favor, somehow, dear sorceress.”

  She laughed heartily at this, taking his accusation in goodwill. It had been made lightly, not grudgingly, after all. She had come to learn that Peter was one of the very few men who lost well to a woman.

  He did not grumble or whine, or pick offence. He took it in good faith, and jested every now and then.

  It did not matter that he had taught her how to play a game of cards, and she now bested him in at least two of every five games in a row.

  “I am no sorceress, Peter. It is pure logic and patience. Perhaps a bit of natural talent too, if I might add. More than that, all is fair in love and war.”

  “And which is this, my lady?” he asked solemnly, his green eyes holding hers captive. “Love or
war?”

  “War. Is that not easy to see?” she answered, her eyes twinkling, in a bid to make light of the issue.

  He chuckled softly, and moved the pouch of shillings to her.

  “Here you go, my lady. Debt paid in full, as promised.”

  She took the pouch and relished the sound of silver clanking against silver as it jiggled. “Thank you, kind sir. You are noble in all your ways.”