A Wicked Duke's Prize: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Henrietta Harding

  “Sounds like a pleasurable time. I can’t imagine why you decided not to go,” Rebecca said, arching her brow.

  Baxter had never been quick on the uptake. He tilted his head and gave her a look of confusion. Slowly, his face scrunched into a strained smile, and he wagged his finger as he said, “You’re quite funny, aren’t you? I wonder what Owen thinks of that. He was always keen on the clever ones.”

  “The clever ones?” Rebecca returned.

  “Yes, well, it doesn’t matter,” Baxter continued. “For the two of you have only a matter of time before it’s over. You said it yourself.”

  “I did.” Now, Rebecca’s eyes flashed toward Owen, who hovered ridiculously behind Baxter’s shoulder, with nowhere else to go. Her eyes flickered dangerously as she added, “My engagement with Owen will be a thing we’ll all forget about in mere weeks, I imagine.”

  “And a marriage with him would surely be dreadful,” Baxter continued.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s quite an arrogant man, isn’t he? One falls into conversation with him and discovers that, above all, he knows better than anyone, that he has a very structured idea of where his life is going and how he’s going to do it. Besides Theo, he doesn’t allow anyone to grow close to him. If you ask me, he’s resistant to the concept of growing up, taking on responsibility. Perhaps, in a sense, he gets that from his father. You’ve heard about his gambling addiction?”

  Owen’s heart stirred with rage. He bolted to the side of Baxter, stood before them both, and gave a sly grin to Rebecca. “Have you had enough?” he asked her, meaning, of course, her taking pleasure in tormenting him.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Rebecca said coyly. “I could never have enough of conversation with Baxter Covington. Can you believe we’ve hardly met before today!”

  Owen bowed slightly to his old friend, whose amber eyes seemed to swirl about with confusion and embarrassment. Owen yearned to declare that yes, of course, he’d heard every bit of what Baxter had said. But that seemed altogether too simple.

  “How have you been, old Baxter?” Owen said.

  “The same as ever, I suppose,” Baxter said, his nostrils flaring.

  “Marvellous,” Owen replied. “It’s always good to hear that an old friend has remained precisely where he was when you left him. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on any big events in your life.”

  The tension between them rose. Baxter started to sweat. He’d never been particularly artful with conversation, and his tongue seemed to lag behind his racing thoughts.

  “I hear that congratulations are in order for the two of you,” Baxter said.

  “Oh?” Owen turned his eyes in mock confusion toward Rebecca. “Whatever for?”

  “An engagement,” Baxter returned, almost spitting it. “I imagine that it will be one of the most fruitful marriages in all of the county. You’ll have many long and happy years, and beautiful children. I know you won’t regret leaving your youth behind at all. Will you, Owen?”

  Owen slipped his hand across the base of Rebecca’s back and fire simmered up through his palm, his arm, throughout his body. He ensured his face remained stoic, not reflecting his inner emotions. It was meant to be a symbol of false ownership, but in fact it felt tender, dear. He wanted to keep it there much longer, but it was entirely too powerful, and he forced his hand to drop. Baxter blinked at the act, his face contorting a little. Clearly, it had had the effect that Owen had wanted. It had been an attack.

  Instead of answering Baxter, Owen turned his face to Rebecca’s, inhaling the floral beauty of her light perfume. “I don’t suppose you could honour me with the next dance, dear fiancée?”

  Rebecca lent the slightest eye roll, something so subtle that no one except Owen could perceive it.

  “I would be honoured, Mr. Crauford,” she replied.

  The music shifted. Baxter bowed his head slightly and muttered a sort of goodbye, before pounding back towards the drinks. Swiftly, as though they’d been trained in the art of touching one another, Rebecca’s hand found Owen’s. As he still held two drinks in one hand, he cut toward a stranger beside them and passed the drinks along. “Won’t you be a dear chap and hold these for us?” he said cheekily.

  The man, who he didn’t recognise, shifted his hands around the glasses, his eyes growing into enormous orbs. After a pause, the man said, “Of course. And congratulations are in order for the two of you!”

  Owen huffed as the two of them whirled away, their feet taking on the steps with ease. Rebecca’s laughter tinkled pleasantly. He felt he could have listened to the sound for the rest of his life.

  “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” she said, her smile widening. “All these congratulations. All these well wishes. Don’t these people understand that we’re prisoners to our families’ biddings?”

  “They really have no sense of propriety,” Owen agreed. “And all this before the formal announcement.”

  “It’s as though class has been lost completely,” Rebecca returned. Her eyes fluttered back to Baxter, who remained alone, a mere shadow in the crowd. “Your friend Baxter is really quite dreadful, isn’t he?”

  “When I heard he’d stolen you from Augustus, I assumed you’d be rather bored,” Owen said.

  “Ah! So this was an act of chivalry. You came to save me,” Rebecca said.

  “I suppose I could advertise it as such. Baxter and I had several years of forced friendship. I think he wanted to be a bit more like Theo and me. Reckless. Arrogant. Terribly clever.”

  “Oh, utterly clever,” Rebecca said, her voice simmering with sarcasm. “That’s the first people speak regarding you and Theo. That you can talk circles around the most academic of concepts. Philosophy. Art. Literature.”

  “Do you ever say anything with purity?” Owen asked.

  “I suppose I consider such conversations a waste of time.”

  “And your dear friend Tabitha. She doesn’t seem the sarcastic type. How on earth does she stand you?” Owen asked.

  Rebecca’s face grew clouded for a moment. Owen felt a stab in his stomach, proof that he’d taken it a step too far.

  “Tabitha’s face to the world is a pure one, yes. But alone in a room, she is one of the cleverest, one of the funniest. Sometimes, I fear that she’ll lose it in the wake of this marriage and now, her pregnancy.”

  “Ah! I don’t suppose this is common knowledge,” Owen said, arching his brow.

  Rebecca shook her head slightly. “Please, don’t be like the others and spread the rumour like fire.”

  “Your secret is safe,” Owen replied. He was overcome with gratefulness, realising that Rebecca had opened up the windows to her mind, if only slightly. They swirled in a circle, their eyes connected, their smiles slightly upturned. “I suppose that’s why you’re alone here tonight.”

  “It seems to me that there are more than a hundred people amongst us,” Rebecca said. “Never so alone. And besides. Now, my fiancé is here to protect me from brooding sons of dukes.”

  “I’m surprised he even approached you, given that everyone knows about our engagement. It goes against the rules of society, don’t you think?” Owen asked.

  “Like everyone else, he assumes that our engagement will stagger out, draw its last breath and then pass on. It isn’t so far out of bounds of what we both assume, is it? I lie in wait, hoping for the letter from you, the one that tells me you’ve worked it all out for yourself. You’ve fought back for your family’s fortune and no longer require connection to my dear father. But every day, no letter arrives, and I face a future with you. Dreadful to live in this sort of limbo, I must say.”

  “If you crave this letter so desperately, I will race through this very estate and find some parchment, a quill. I’ll write you the letter of abandonment you desire. It will be endlessly poetic. Probably draw tears from your eyes,” he said.

  “I always long for a good and proper cry,” Rebecca said.

  The dance ended all too soon.
Owen cursed himself for having requested one of the shorter tunes. Rebecca curtsied, her eyes burning into his as she said, “Thank you for a marvellous dance, my lord. I hope we have time for another later.”

  But as she rose, yet another couple approached them. The girl’s eyes reflected the glimmer of the chandelier, as the man bolted, “Congratulations are in order, I suppose!”

  Annoyed, Owen shook the man’s hand and said, “Goodness, thank you. I don’t know how the two of us could have carried on without your blessing.” But when he turned back to find Rebecca, she’d abandoned him. Now, she’d cut towards the corner of the ballroom, and her lips were poised near Augustus’s ear. He’d lost her, perhaps for the rest of the night, and maybe for the rest of his life. His heart stirred as he swept back to the drinks table to collect a replacement wine. En route, he stumbled back upon Zelda and Theo, in the midst of a laughing fit. Zelda had long forgotten her disdain. Theo clapped his hand upon Owen’s shoulder and shook him, crying, “This girl! Owen, she’s a dream, isn’t she?”

  “Quite,” Owen said, distracted. His eyes found Rebecca, in the midst of a laughing fit, her hand stretched across the flat of her stomach. Augustus wiped tears from his eyes. Wave after wave of jealousy rollicked against him as he ripped a glass of wine from the table and threw it back, yearning for another form of consciousness. He didn’t want to live in this darkness a moment more.

  Chapter 18

  Augustus teased her in the wake of her dance with her supposed fiancé. His smile was infectious and his words fiery as he uttered, “He must have moved faster than I’ve ever seen him when I told him you were in the midst of conversation with dear Baxter Covington! He ducked away from me mid-sentence.”

  “Oh, but it was dreadful, Augustus. And shame on you for leaving me with him,” Rebecca said, nearly wheezing with laughter. “He went through the many intricacies of his ability to pack well for travel, and he then shared his advantages and disadvantages for his various investments. I imagined myself as his wife, in this other very bizarre future, and saw myself stretched out on the floor in boredom, mumbling ‘Yes, darling’ over and over again, until I crumbled into death. I’m sure he wouldn’t notice such a thing. He’d walk around my body for hours, days, weeks maintaining his boring conversation and telling me how beautiful I am.”

  Augustus shuddered with laughter and passed Rebecca a glass of wine. “But you’ve got through it. A first dance with your supposed beloved. You know, he was quite strange to me at Zelda’s garden party.”

  Rebecca arched her brow. “You haven’t mentioned this.”

  “I don’t suppose it matters much,” he returned. “Only that he peppered me with questions. And when I told him that you’d surely dig out of the engagement soon, he seemed almost resentful. I suppose the man has very little regard for me, which, of course, is quite all right. I’m not one to demand the attention or the care of anyone else.”

  “You’re far different than normal men in this society. It seems that they will do anything for constant attention,” Rebecca said. “I’ve watched Theo all evening. He’s bounced from one woman to the next. Each time he leaves one, she glowers at all the others, as though they’re all in the midst of a competition yet haven’t been given the rules of the game.”

  “I’ve heard that he and Zelda have been rather serious with one another,” Augustus said, his eyes glittering with gossip.

  “And yet, he seems to take on an entirely different persona when he speaks with her, as though they’re children laughing in the corner,” Rebecca said. “I don’t mean to belittle whatever it is they have. Surely, I have no stance to do such a thing. Not with my false engagement on the brink of extinction.”

  Augustus sighed. “You’ll find someone. Someone who makes you happier than you even knew you could be. I know it. You’re special, Rebecca…” He paused, as though he searched for the appropriate words. But before he could fully form them, another woman approached.

  “Rebecca Frampton! I’ve heard good news regarding your situation,” the woman, who Rebecca thought was called Deborah, although she couldn’t be sure, spouted.

  “What sort of good news is that?” Rebecca said coyly.

  Deborah’s face grew clouded. “Only that you’ve been engaged to that handsome Owen Crauford. You know, many women have tried and failed before you.”

  “And yet, I did very little!” Rebecca said. She leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially. “You see, I hear there’s something very wrong with him. His father yearned to latch him to whoever he could, before the full weight of his problems revealed themselves. I am entirely apprehensive about my future. Imagine it. Me, all of his children, and this wild, crazed lunatic, living in a house together.”

  Deborah’s face shifted, her cheeks growing hollow. “Oh my goodness.”

  “Yes. I think this every morning when I awaken,” Rebecca replied. “Yet, of course, I hope to enjoy the last of my freedom. Augustus was only just trying to cheer me up. Weren’t you, Augustus?”

  Augustus, to his credit, played along, forcing his own cheeks to sag. “It’s really a tragedy, Deborah. Our Rebecca will be doing a tremendous service to this man, a man who has very little time before someone must care for him every minute of the day.”

  “Of course, we’ll hire servants and doctors to be at our beck and call,” Rebecca continued, constructing an even denser scheme. “But I’m afraid much of it will fall on my shoulders, as the wife. It’s imperative that we extend his family line, as he’s the only son. I only pray that many of his problems won’t filter into our children. I can just imagine myself. The only sane woman in a house of terror.”

  Deborah pointed her eyes to the floor. The music seemed suddenly sour, strange. After a staggered sigh, Deborah wrapped her fragile fingers around Rebecca’s wrist and said, “You’re a brave, brave woman, Rebecca. I can’t imagine what I would do if faced with this sort of problem. You’re truly doing God’s work.”

  After Deborah left, Augustus and Rebecca watched as she tapped over to a gaggle of girls, leaned forward, and seemed to deliver the news. The girls grew hushed. One hissed, “You must be joking!” even as Deborah declared, “I’m not! Oh, I wish I were.”

  Augustus clicked his tongue. “You’re really quite wretched, Rebecca.”

  “Just wait,” Rebecca said. “I cannot wait for the news to wrap around to Owen. I think we’ll notice the shift in the air when it happens.”

  It didn’t take very long. Rebecca felt the gossip race around the room, passing like an illness from person to person. Several people approached her, squeezed her arm, and asked her if she needed anything from them at all. Augustus, flustered, muttered, “I can’t believe people never see through your lies! Every single time you’re engaged, you come up with one scheme or another. Nobody ever says – isn’t this a bit like what she did last time?”

  “I cannot help that I live in a world of lacklustre intelligence,” Rebecca said.

  Suddenly, there was a bellow from the side of the room. Rebecca ripped around to find Owen, a strange smile cutting up his cheeks, toward his brows. He glared down at a young couple, who seemed to go through many stages of panic, of fear. They’d approached a purported maniac and, ultimately, they’d pushed him into this lunacy.

  “You’re suggesting that I’m mad?” Owen cried. “Please. Repeat what you’ve only just said.”

  The couple exchanged fearful glances. Rebecca forced her grin back and tapped forward. There was a hush throughout the ballroom as she reached Owen and grabbed his massive bicep. Owen balked, his long lashes sweeping over his cheeks. Slowly, his eyes found hers and settled into a moment of understanding. He clicked his tongue and muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, “You’ve really got me this time, haven’t you?”