by Lauren Smith
The Duke’s Twin
Lauren Smith
Contents
Other Titles By Lauren Smith
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Bewitching the Earl
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Smith
Cover design by Carpe Librum Book Design
Lauren Smith supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-947206-97-7 (ebook)
Other Titles By Lauren Smith
Historical
The League of Rogues Series
Wicked Designs
His Wicked Seduction
Her Wicked Proposal
Wicked Rivals
Her Wicked Longing
His Wicked Embrace
The Earl of Pembroke
His Wicked Secret
The Last Wicked Rogue
The Seduction Series
The Duelist’s Seduction
The Rakehell’s Seduction
The Rogue’s Seduction
The Gentleman’s Seduction
Standalone Stories
Tempted by A Rogue
Bewitching the Earl
The Duke’s Twin
Sins and Scandals
An Earl By Any Other Name
A Gentleman Never Surrenders
A Scottish Lord for Christmas
* * *
Contemporary
The Surrender Series
The Gilded Cuff
The Gilded Cage
The Gilded Chain
The Darkest Hour
Love In London
Forbidden
Seduction
Climax
Forever Be Mine
* * *
Paranormal
Dark Seductions Series
The Shadows of Stormclyffe Hall
The Love Bites Series
The Bite of Winter
Brothers of Ash and Fire
Grigori
Mikhail
Rurik
* * *
Sci-Fi Romance
Cyborg Genesis Series
Across the Stars
* * *
The Krinar Eclipse
1
England, May 1821
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“Miles, you must save me.”
Miles Beresford folded down the edges of his newspaper and met the harried gaze of his twin brother, Justin, who was standing in the doorway of Miles’s study. No matter that they’d grown up together as children, it still shocked him to come face-to-face with Justin, given how much they looked alike. Though they’d been born only minutes apart and were mirror images of each other, their temperaments couldn’t have been more different.
Justin, the elder, was all decency and goodness. A fair man, a pleasant man. Miles, on the other hand… He snickered at the thought of how anyone would describe him.
Unruly, a bounder, a rogue, devilish. He was even known to make matchmaking mamas faint dead away when he walked into a ballroom. None could deny he had a good head for business, and any decent Englishman respected someone who was good at business.
“Save you, brother? What have you gone and done now? Save a house of orphans who now want you to adopt them all? Rescue a nest of kittens from a tree and now they live under your bed, keeping you up with their cries? Carry a pretty young damsel miles in the rain after she twisted her ankle and now she wants to marry you?”
Justin frowned, his dark-brown eyes holding no glint of their usual humor at Miles’s teasing. “I’m quite serious, Miles. I need your help.”
It was normal for Miles to tease his brother about being such a stand-up gentleman. Justin was the eldest brother, the Duke of Wiltshire. They both bore the name of Beresford, but when their father had passed on five years ago, Justin had become the duke, and therefore everyone but Miles called him Lord Wiltshire or, if they were very close friends, just Wiltshire.
“Is it serious, then?” If his sensible brother truly needed rescuing of some kind, then that was sure to be genuine trouble. He raised a brow and waited for his brother to elaborate. Usually Miles was the one who needed saving, which meant, unfortunately, that he owed his brother a favor. Or, more accurately, several dozen. He’d lost count over the years. Such was the price of being the rogue of the family and not the gentleman.
Justin shifted restlessly on his feet. “I have guests arriving shortly.”
“At Wiltshire Manor?” Miles asked.
As a duke, Justin often hosted house parties, but he rarely needing rescuing from them. He was the perfect sort of man to host a delightful dinner, a musical gala, or even a vigorous fox hunt. This made Miles infinitely curious as to what sort of guests would strike fear in the heart of his sociable and likable brother.
The look of consternation upon his face filled Miles with curiosity. He set the paper down on his desk and leaned forward. The study in which they sat was quiet, the only sound being the tick of the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. Miles may have been a rogue, but he kept his estate, Beresford House, orderly and comfortable, even if it was a bachelor residence. More often than not, Justin would ride over from Wiltshire Manor in the morning, and the two of them would share breakfast and catch each other up on news.
“Justin, why do you need saving? Seeing as you are the one who invited them, you ought to be able to deal with them. You know I’m not a good guest. I find myself rather bored with innocent young ladies. Now, if it’s a lusty widow you need distracted, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“Well, it does involve a few ladies coming to the house, and I do need your help with them—but no lusty widows, I’m afraid.” Justin raked a hand through his dark hair, mussing it. Miles tended to keep his hair a little longer than was fashionable, if only to turn heads and cause scandal.
“Oh no, the last time you asked me to seduce a woman to keep her out of your way, I almost ended up leg-shackled to Freddy Poncenby’s little sister. Do you have any idea what that would have done to a man like me? Married to that little redheaded creature? She was far too quiet for my tastes, and her brother is a notorious dandy. Can’t have one of those in the family. Dreadful bore. Last dinner we were at he spent the entire meal discussing the cut of one’s waistcoat and the style of folding one’s cravat.”
“Are you done complaining? I’m more than happy to remind you that you owe me, little brother.” There was a hint of humor in his brother’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. It reminded Miles of when they were lads and Justin had raged about some scheme or another that had gotten them in trouble—a scheme Miles had usually come up with and Justin had been obliging enough to join in. Yet each time they’d been caught, Justin’s eyes would twinkle, and he’d find a way to evade both their parents’ displeasure and their punishment.
“There are some things I won’t do for any man, not even you.�
�� Miles attempted to return his attention to his paper, but Justin leaned forward and shoved the paper down.
“Miles, don’t make me beg.” Anxiety darkened Justin’s eyes, stirring a worry in Miles. When had his brother ever had to beg for help? Never. That alone meant it was serious.
He sat up in the wingback chair he’d been lounging in. “Very well, what must I do?”
Justin’s face relaxed, and he took the chair opposite Miles. “The manor house is in need of a solid fortune to keep it up. I’ve fallen behind on paying the debts Father left me with.”
Miles’s fingers crushed the paper he’d been holding. “How long?” His brother hadn’t told him that their childhood home was in dire financial straits? Miles swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth. They were brothers. He should have shared this with him. Miles had inherited a smaller estate, Beresford House, which had no debts, and he’d made his own comfortable fortune since then. He’d always assumed Justin had been able to do the same. It seemed he hadn’t, but what hurt him was that he hadn’t come to Miles for help when he should have.
Justin’s dark brows drew together. “I know I should have told you about the debts.”
A pulse of anger stirred inside Miles. “Yes, by God, you should have. We’re brothers, Justin. These are exactly the kinds of things you ask your brother to help you with.”
Justin gave an apologetic nod of his head. “I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t have the courage to admit to you that I was failing in my duties.” Justin paused. “That is why I’ve been considering marrying an heiress to secure Wiltshire Manor’s future.”
Miles rose from his chair and stared at his brother. “You aren’t failing. Father left the manor house with debts. Few men would have luck paying them down on their own. But you should have come to me. I could have advised you on investments. Now you intend to throw away your happiness and marry for money? Whatever happened to marrying for love? You always believed in that.”
Marrying for love—or marrying at all—was something Miles had never thought much about. He and his twin were now thirty-four years old, well past the time most men married. But as a duke, Justin had a duty to marry and produce the next Duke of Wiltshire. Justin had always proclaimed he would marry for love, and now that hope was being dashed because Justin had fallen prey to pride?
“Don’t look at me like that, Miles. I am ready to settle down once I find the right woman. The estate needs every penny of whatever my future wife will bring to the marriage. I’m working the tenants as much as I can, but we need more to square off what is still owed to Father’s creditors.” Justin scrubbed a hand over his jaw and then finally met Miles’s gaze.
Miles frowned. Their father had frequented gambling hells far too often not to have dented the family’s coffers. The last five years had been an exercise in both grief and panic as they adjusted to life as a duke and a duke’s brother.
“How much do you need? I’m happy to give it to you.” Miles didn’t want Justin marrying the first woman he encountered with a large dowry and accounts at Drummonds. Just because Miles didn’t believe in love didn’t mean he would let his brother sacrifice that dream.
“You know I won’t take money from you, and the debt is too great for us to share it,” Justin said. “Besides, as I’ve said, the help I need involves guests at Wiltshire for the next week.”
“Ah yes, the mysterious guests,” Miles mused. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense. Out with it.”
Justin relaxed a little, his old confidence returning. “When I was in London last week, I was introduced to a man named Mr. Livingston. He’s quite well off and has two unwed daughters. One is rumored to be a great beauty and has just come out.”
“So you’ve invited the two heiresses here this weekend? The comely one and the other? Tell me this other one isn’t anything like Pepper Poncenby.” Miles prayed he wouldn’t spend the entire week running from a marriage trap.
“No, nothing like Miss Poncenby. Lydia and Rebecca are, I’m told, quite lovely ladies in both disposition and manner. Lydia is the younger and prettier one. Not that I chose her because of her looks. I haven’t seen either of the women yet. It’s just…” His brother struggled for words. “When I spoke with their father, his eyes lit up when he talked about Lydia. She’s intelligent, beautiful, able to run a large household, and she enjoys society as I do. I need that in a wife, someone who will competently handle the duties of a duchess.”
On that Miles had to agree. A duke needed a wife with a very particular set of skills and a social personality.
“And what of the other daughter? Did the father talk about her?” Miles was curious to know what sort of lady he would no doubt be in charge of somehow.
“Of course. Rebecca is quiet and sweet natured.”
“Sounds dreadful.”
“She’s not, I assure you. Say you’ll help me, Miles.”
It was hard to resist his twin’s pleading, but that didn’t mean he had to sound eager to do so. “Very well, I shall endeavor to help. What part must I play in your scheme, then?”
Justin’s face reddened, a sign of guilt if there ever was one. “Well…I want us to switch places, like we did as boys. That way I will be able to meet both ladies and discover which one suits me best without my title influencing their affections. I’m fairly certain I shall wish to marry Lydia, but I don’t want her to be aware of my preference until I am certain. I want a wife who wants me for me, not one who wants the title of duchess. We must stay switched the entire time in order for my idea to work.”
The idea was amusing, Miles would credit his brother that much. “So I am to play the firstborn brother and become the Duke of Wiltshire, and you will play the humble Miles Beresford?”
Justin quirked an eyebrow. “Humble?”
“Incredibly humble,” Miles joked. “But what happens should the ladies fall for the wrong brother? They’re likely to both fall in love with me. I’m the better brother, after all, with or without a title.”
Justin chuckled. “Such humility. Besides, since when would you risk being leg-shackled? I doubt you’d do anything to put your bachelorhood at risk. You must simply be charming, but not too charming. I know you, Miles. Your rakish reputation will likely have the young ladies and their mother in fits. So do be kind to my lovely guests. No heart-breaking, especially since you’ll be playing me.”
“Very well, I’ll play the gentleman.”
“You’d better,” Justin said.
Miles grinned. “My role shall be easy, but what of you? You will be forced to play me, said rakehell. What will the poor innocent lambs think of that?”
“They’ll think that for the first time Miles Beresford is on his best behavior. When I play you, I shall be a gentleman above reproach.”
“How very dull, brother,” Miles said with a laugh. “You know, being a bit wicked might do you and the young lady you desire some good.”
Justin smiled. “Perhaps, but it’s my duty to be good.”
A duty indeed. A duty that Miles would be forced to endure for an entire week.
A young footman appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace, I have received a message from Wiltshire Manor. Your guests will arrive in a few hours.”
“Thank you.” Justin nodded at the footman, who then disappeared from view, leaving the brothers alone.
“Now then. I suppose it’s time for you to become the duke, brother,” Justin said with a grin.
A grim smile settled on Miles’s face as he followed his brother outside. Bloody hell, what the devil have I gotten myself into?
2
Rebecca Livingston stared at the vast Wiltshire estate as her father’s coach rolled to a stop in front of the manor house. It was built with beautiful limestone and had a multitude of windows. Sunlight flashed off the panes, reminding her of light on a lake in the early morning. It was perfect, the sort of place a duchess would expect to live. Not that Rebecca had any intention of becoming a duchess. That was her little sister’
s future, not hers.
Rebecca missed their home in the country. Three months in London had taken a toll on her. The balls, the dancing, the dinners. There was something terrible about having to be polite and conversational around dozens of men and women she didn’t know at all. She wanted peace and quiet, tucked away in a library next to a grand fireplace, reading books on everything from politics and economics to lurid Gothic novels. Or she’d go riding by herself, stopping to stretch out in the fields and gaze at the clouds.
But her mother had dragged her along to every social engagement she could this season, seeking a suitable match for her sister. Lydia had blossomed under the attention, but she was eighteen, and her first Season was a thing to be celebrated.
Rebecca was twenty years old and had ended her third season without hope of finding a match. At least, not one she would consent to. She wasn’t the sort to garner admirers. Too quiet, too studious, too…plain.
At first, the whispered words no one thought she heard had wounded her, but now she cared little for the thoughts of others. She simply was herself and found no shame in that. A woman who enjoyed reading and playing the harp. If she found a man worth talking to, conversation came easily, but she wasn’t about to waste words on insufferably boring topics such as the weather or what mutual friends were up to in London. If no one could accept her the way she was, then she would go without a husband. It would give her mother hysterics, but Mama would survive. As long as Lydia was well married, that would distract her mother from Rebecca’s desire for the freedom to do as she liked.
She cast a glance at Lydia, who was perched on the edge of her seat, blue eyes wide with delight and wonder as she studied the manor. Honey-colored curls bounced against her cheeks as she leaned to better see out the coach window. She was infinitely more accomplished, much to Lydia’s own dismay. Rebecca often had to soothe her younger sister’s worries because Lydia feared Rebecca felt the sting of their mother’s clear preference for Lydia. They had never been the type of sisters to quarrel, though. Rebecca was not jealous of Lydia’s beauty, and Lydia certainly wasn’t jealous of Rebecca. Rebecca had learned early on that she’d been blessed with a full-hearted sister who was not spoilt or selfish.