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

by Henrietta Harding

  His father hardly blinked up from the letters he was poised over. His hair was tousled, his glasses low on his nose. His glass of scotch was half-drunk, although it was difficult to guess which number of the night it was. Owen creaked the door closed behind him and stood, a heavy shadow overlooking his father, until his father blinked up. He looked tired.

  “Good evening, Owen. Have you been at Theo’s?”

  “No. In fact, I’ve come to tell you something important,” Owen replied.

  His father had hardly enough energy to show interest. He clicked his tongue and gestured to the chair before him. “Sit, then. Tell me. What’s on your mind?”

  Owen sat. The tension grew between them, as he struggled to find the appropriate words. Slowly, a smile formed over his lips, one he couldn’t fully control, and he sputtered into laughter – such was the lightness of his heart.

  “What is it, Owen?” his father asked. His brow furrowed still more, as though he suddenly suspected that Owen had gone mad. Perhaps this was every father’s assured thought, that one day his son would become just like him – in even the most wretched of ways.

  “It’s nothing to worry about, Father. In fact, it’s something we must celebrate,” Owen said. “I’m going to marry Rebecca Frampton.”

  Neil Crauford let out a small, sombre laugh – one steeped in doubt. “That’s impossible, Owen. I’ve received a letter from her father. I showed it to you. It’s rather clear about their intention not to involve themselves with us whatsoever.”

  “Father. Listen to me.” Owen reached across the desk and gripped his father’s hand. It was their first contact in quite a while. After a strange moment, Owen reasoned that this was the first time Neil Crauford had been touched by anyone at all. This gesture – something he received from Theo, from Rebecca, even from Tabitha and Kenneth Frampton – was surely just as foreign as another language.

  But Neil Crauford didn’t remove his hand in distaste. He stared at it for a long time, then returned his eyes to Owen’s. It was clear he was listening, yet he didn’t wish to verbalise what he thought.

  “I made a mistake with Rebecca,” Owen began. “I made her think that I didn’t care for her, even in the midst of our growing affection. She wanted to erase me from her life completely. But I couldn’t allow it. The weight of my emotion for her was too great. I discussed this with her dearest friend, and then with her father – and all is clear. We are to be wed.”

  Neil clicked his head left, then right. Then suddenly, he shot up and raced around the side of the desk. He flung his arms around his son’s neck, every motion joyous, and he cried into his son’s ear, “I’ve never known such happiness. Not for a very, very long time.”

  Owen was bright-eyed and a little dull-headed from champagne, but this didn’t bring him to disagree with his father’s suggestion that they share a scotch. His father poured with wavering arms, continually glancing back as he prattled on and on about his excitement.

  “Son, I don’t want you to think this happiness is all for my personal gain. Of course, the initial arranged marriage was for the betterment of our family – you know it as well as I. But the fact that you actually fell in love with this girl! Love. It’s a feeling I haven’t known for years, not outside of this dull ache and sadness I feel towards your mother.”

  “We must introduce them,” Owen said, his brows high. “Rebecca has a sharp wit to her. An energy that Mother will surely find confusing – yet hopefully endearing.”

  “You were much the same throughout your childhood. I imagine she’ll find it to be a well-suited match,” his father said, speaking quickly. He perched once more on his chair and beamed at his son, clicking his tongue. “My son. The husband of Rebecca Frampton.”

  “But Father…” Owen began, thinking now the appropriate time to mention this, although he felt hesitant. “It’s really essential that once we tie ourselves with the Framptons that you become more responsible with your funds. In fact, I think it necessary that for the first several months after our union, we remain here to keep you away from all that. I haven’t yet announced this to Rebecca, of course – our engagement is merely hours old.”

  His father’s smile flickered downward only slightly. His eyes were hazy with a moment of regret, but he rebounded swiftly.

  “An intelligent man knows his weaknesses,” Neil replied. “I’ve always said this. To uphold the future of you, of Rebecca, of all of us here together – I promise you, Owen, I will abstain from the gambling tables forevermore.”

  “Good. I’ve seen the damage it can do. I’ve decided never to step foot near one again,” Owen returned. “A bit of solidarity for the two of us.”

  Father and son clinked glasses and agreed on this single truth. Afterwards, they fell into plans: when Rebecca would meet Owen’s mother, when the marriage would be (they planned for late August, approximately seven weeks away). Owen’s heart was overwhelmed with adrenaline, with feeling, and, when it passed midnight and into the next day, he hugged his father a final time and bid him goodnight.

  It had been the strangest, most wonderful day of his life. It would take many hours of unpacking to comprehend the weight of it. All he knew for sure was this: Rebecca was the solution to his every problem – not just in money, but in loneliness, in sense of self. He couldn’t comprehend his life without her. And now, he didn’t have to.

  Chapter 30

  It was decided that Rebecca would meet Mrs. Crauford on the following Saturday. The Friday prior, Rebecca and Tabitha went on a brief foray to the village to find a better dress for Rebecca – as she was quite frightened at being on display for her new mother-in-law. “Owen says she’s been quite distressed lately. Always in her bedroom. Worrying about the future of their family,” she said to Tabitha in the carriage, collecting her hands across her lap, anxious.

  “I imagine it’s been stressful,” Tabitha agreed. “Although this must have brightened her spirits.”

  “Owen said she seemed a little forlorn, even after he told her the news,” Rebecca said, her voice heavy. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to watch the love of your life descend into such madness. I pray…” Here, her mind rolled over what Augustus had spewed to her on that most uncomfortable afternoon, when he’d described to her that Owen would turn out precisely like his father. She shivered.

  Tabitha seemed to sense the shift. She reached across the carriage and squeezed her hand. “Owen is quite different from his father. He’s different from anyone either of us have met before. Trust him as much as you can. It’s all we can do.”

  “Thank you again for coming with me to the village today,” Rebecca said.

  Tabitha snorted. “I’m only here because the morning sickness seems to have calmed. Anthony watches me like a hawk. I won’t be surprised if he arrives here later, making up some excuse about why he’s required in the village.”

  Once outside the carriage, Rebecca’s heart fluttered with excitement. She hadn’t shopped for herself in quite some time. It had been a habit of the girls, years before, prior to Tabitha’s marriage, when courting had been on the very top of their minds. Now, with just a brief glance at Tabitha’s stomach, it was clear that so much had shifted.

  As they cut through the village, en route to their favourite dressmaker, Rebecca was surprised to spot Theo and Zelda, collected near a little brasserie, their heads close together. As they neared the strange couple, Rebecca became aware that Zelda’s face was strangely constricted, her eyes glossy with tears. Suddenly, at the worst-possible moment, Zelda burst out from the brasserie and crashed into Rebecca, nearly toppling her over Tabitha. Luckily, Rebecca managed to catch and collect herself.

  Theo’s laughter echoed out across the village square, across the old-world church roof and the tiled buildings. “My, my. If it isn’t my dear best friend’s fiancée.”

  “He’s told you,” Rebecca said, delivering a large smile at the sound of this term – fiancée.

  “Of course. Owen doesn�
�t do anything without telling me first,” Theo said. He took a step forward, gripped Rebecca’s hand, and dotted a light kiss on top.

  Zelda coughed. Again, when Rebecca looked at her, she saw a stricken, enraged woman.

  “Let’s see how long that lasts,” Zelda suddenly spewed.

  Rebecca took a large step back, her lips parting. “Excuse me?”

  Zelda’s nostrils flared. She no longer looked like the bright and beautiful, blonde princess she’d been at the ball. She pointed a firm finger and said, “You. You’re always toying with men. Making them think that you love them and then digging yourself out of the engagement.”

  Rebecca was perturbed. “Of course. Everyone knows that was the old me. But Owen – he’s far different. I’ve finally found a man I wish to settle down with. Not that Owen and I could ever really ‘settle down’ in the traditional sense. I imagine we’ll run circles around one another until we die at the ripe age of thirty-three.”

  Theo chuckled good-naturedly. He then spoke to Zelda through gritted teeth. “It’s unnecessary to bring one’s own baggage into another’s affair.”

  “And yet, you’ve decided to dump me in the centre of the village – leaving me with nothing else to do!” Zelda shot back. She turned stormy eyes back towards Rebecca. “I wish I was more like you, Rebecca. Apt to dip in and out of relationships. Never giving any power to them.”

  “As I’ve already said…” Rebecca began.

  “No. Theo. You. Owen. Assuredly her…” Zelda spat towards Tabitha.

  “I’m pregnant with my first child,” Tabitha replied, her eyebrow high.

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What does he think? He’s just going to run off to the West Indies? And for what? What sort of woman awaits you there, Theo? The sort of woman who loves you the way I do? The sort of woman willing to… to do the things I’ve done to you… for you…” She trailed off, her eyes stirring with tears.

  Rebecca glanced back towards Theo, shocked. “The West Indies?”

  “It’s been a bit of a blur,” Theo returned. “But I’ve longed for an adventure. Owen can tell you the same about me. The marriage, the children… that sort of life?”

  “He’s going to say it again. That it’s not in the cards for him,” Zelda spat. “As though I didn’t know you ran around on me. Almost continually! I spotted you at the balls, your little affairs. I went along with all of it. Because I thought the great Theodore Ayles would be mine.”

  She whipped around, gripped her skirts, and stormed into the crowd, disappearing behind a carriage. Rebecca tutted, surprised, and then returned her gaze to Theo. He looked oddly pleased with himself. Rebecca decided to articulate this to him.

  “Oh, of course. I love a public display of hatred,” Theo replied.

  “How bizarre,” Tabitha whispered. She looked stricken, yet in awe, folding and unfolding her hands unconsciously. “And you never assumed you would marry the poor thing?”

  “Not for a moment. And I never hinted for a moment about marriage, either,” Theo said. “It was all a collection of strange images and ideas in her mind. Now, faced with reality, she must press forward without me.” Here, he delivered a clever wink, then swiftly switched topics. “What brings you two ladies to the village?”

  Rebecca, admittedly a bit flabbergasted, said, “We’ve arrived to find a dress for me. I’m to meet Mrs. Crauford tomorrow.”

  “Quite a day,” Theo said. “Have you investigated the gowns at Montgomery Seamstresses? A remarkable selection. A woman I once courted got all her fine things there.”

  “It’s the best place in town,” Tabitha confirmed. “It’s the only place we ever return to.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll walk with you,” Theo said. “Not that the pair of you need any sort of chaperone. If Owen is to be trusted, Rebecca, you’re something of a wild card yourself. Nobody anybody needs to check up on. The sort of woman who could certainly get through her life alone, if she wanted to.” After a heavy sigh, he added, “Poor, dear Zelda. She really was one of the prettier ones. But endlessly dull! I couldn’t have envisioned a life with her.”

  When they reached Montgomery Seamstresses, Theo paused and bid his goodbye. “Zelda’s correct, by the way. The entire village and surrounding county have bets regarding whether or not you and Owen will continue with your engagement.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rebecca said, laughing. “Although I suppose, if I were in another’s shoes, I might make that bet.”

  “I have money you’re going to make it. Don’t disappoint me,” Theo said.

  With a final wink he shot off into the crowd, disappearing just as Zelda had. Tabitha swept her arm through Rebecca’s and muttered as they entered, “That man is one of the handsomest I’ve seen in my life. He’s apt to destroy another hundred women’s lives before he’s done with us. It’s times like these I’m terribly grateful for Anthony, for all his dullness. For all his sincerity.”

  Chapter 31

  Owen waited in the shadows of the parlour. He felt his mother creeping about upstairs, preparing herself for the dinner with Rebecca. She’d nearly broken to pieces hours before, wondering what on earth she could possibly wear for this all-important meeting – an event that would change the course of her life. She’d hardly eaten in weeks and had turned to skin and bones and was apt to crumple into him, fall into another round of tears.

  When Owen had initially told his mother of the engagement, she’d furrowed her brow in a similar manner as Neil had – arguing that no, that engagement had been off for some time. Owen had had to backtrack, explain. His mother had still seemed suspicious. How could any good befall their family again? It seemed outside the bounds of likelihood.

  Suddenly, his mother appeared at the first landing. She looked regal, powerful, entirely unlike the woman who’d moped about, seemingly preparing to die, for the previous few months. She wore a high-necked twilight-blue gown, and her eyes were cat-like and demanding. She clutched the bannister and tilted her head at Owen, the way she had when he’d been younger and they’d been in the midst of playing a game. Was it possible that his mother could heal? Was it possible that the three of them – with the addition of Rebecca – could find love once more?

  “Is she late?” his mother asked. She lifted her chin a bit higher, almost formidably.

  “Only a few minutes,” Owen returned.

  On cue, the carriage appeared in the drive. Owen whipped up from the rickety parlour chair and opened the front door, casting the last of the evening sunlight across the foyer. His mother hadn’t experienced such warmth in some time, and she drew back slightly, fearful.

  “I’ll bring her inside to meet you,” Owen said.

  Neil Crauford bumbled up from the back of the house, beaming. They’d hired their old cook for one night, and it was clear that Neil had taken his time, sampling the various creams and sauces and little morsels of meat. There was an air of long-ago familiarity to him.

  “Is that our girl?” his father called. He glanced up at his wife and gave her a warm smile. She replied a slight one – the first she’d administered to him for some time.

  Perhaps there was the possibility of healing. Perhaps they could find love with one another again.

  Owen shot out through the door and met Rebecca at the carriage. As she stepped out, she revealed her gorgeous, maroon gown, cut low over her glowing porcelain breasts. Her hair was curled remarkably, glowing in the light. Immediately, her hands crawled over his shoulders and she delivered a stellar kiss to his lips.

  “I believe someone missed me,” he said, his grin widening.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” she returned.

  As they walked to the house, she ran through the events of the previous day in the village. “Of course, it shouldn’t surprise me that so many people guess we’ll end our engagement,” she said. “But to hear it from Zelda in that way! It was the very best sort of entertainment.”