“If you’re looking for the duchess, she’s gone upstairs to her room.” In all his years of service Grieves had never looked at his employer with anything less than absolute pride and loyalty. But for the first time there was an unmistakable flicker of disappointment in those old gray eyes, and it stabbed Andrew right in the middle of his heart.
“You were there that night,” he said suddenly.
“What night, Your Grace?”
“The night my parents argued. The night my father died. What did they fight about?”
The butler’s mouth tightened. “I couldn’t possibly–”
“They never disagreed. Ever. They may not have loved each other, but that’s what made their marriage work so well. That’s what made it perfect.”
Grieves looked at him oddly. “Perhaps from the perspective of a young man who didn’t care to look beneath the surface their marriage was perfect, but your parents – I’m afraid there is no other way to say this – despised one another. On the night they argued your mother was planning on leaving your father for another man. One she loved.”
Andrew felt as though a cold bucket of water had been dumped on his head. “My mother was in love with someone else?”
“She was,” Grieves said stiffly. “If you never saw your parents argue, Your Grace, it’s because they didn’t care enough about each other to argue. And that, I should think, is far more painful than caring too much.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched. “I have to speak with Regina. Immediately.”
“That is an excellent idea. I believe she headed upstairs to her bedchamber.”
He looked at the staircase. Before his fall he would have thought nothing of bounding up the four dozen or so steps. Now they looked as daunting as a mountain. But he would climb it. He would climb it again and again and again if it brought him to the woman he had wronged. The woman he had hurt.
The woman he had loved since the first moment he saw her.
“Should I have her sent down, Your Grace?” asked Grieves.
Gritting his teeth, Andrew hobbled to the first step and placed his cane upon it. “No. She deserves for me to go to her.”
It was a long, grueling climb. By the time he reached the summit his face shone with perspiration and his leg was one fire. Still he kept dragging one foot in front of the other until he was outside Regina’s door, and didn’t knock so much as fall into it with a heavy thud.
“Kitty,” she called from within, “if that’s you I’m sorry but I do not feel like talking at the moment. If you could come back a little later–”
“It’s not Lady Katherine.”
A long pause, and then…
“Andrew?”
“Yes,” he rasped. “Can I come in? There’s something I’d like to say.”
He heard a rustle of fabric, and then the door opened a half inch to reveal a beautiful green eye that widened at the sight of him. She threw open the door and her mouth parted in surprise when she saw the state him.
“Did you walk all the way up here?” she gasped, her gaze flying to his leg.
“If I could have flown I would have,” he said dryly, “but the last I checked I’m a bloody idiot, not a bird.”
“Come – come sit down. Here, hold onto me.” She offered her arm and he took it gratefully as she guided him into her bedchamber and over to a chaise lounge beneath one of the windows. The moment he was seated she stepped back, her countenance a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
“What were you thinking? The doctor was very clear. You shouldn’t even be walking yet, let along climbing a flight of stairs.” She put her hands on her hips and glowered down at him. “You could have re-broken your leg!”
“I needed to see you,” he said simply.
“Well here I am. What happened to going to London?”
“I realized I was forgetting something.”
“What?” she snapped.
He met her tumultuous gaze. “You.”
With a sharp intake of breath Regina abruptly sat down beside him and he reached for her hand, pressing his mouth to the base of her wrist before he tucked it against his chest. “I am sorry. I know an apology is inadequate for the way I’ve treated you and the things I’ve said, but it’s all I have to give. That, and my heart.”
“You heart?” she whispered as her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes. It’s not as perfect as I thought it was. Far from it, actually. But you’ve made it better. You’ve made me better. And my heart is yours if you still want it.”
She shook her head. “But…but what about living separate lives and pretending to be happy–”
“I don’t want to pretend to be happy,” he said fiercely. “I want to be happy. And I am. With you.”
“You love me?” she asked, a tremulous smile shining through her tears.
“I love you.” Tilting her chin up, he kissed her lips. They tasted faintly of salt and hope and dreams come true. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you across a crowded ballroom and I shall love you for all the rest of the moments in my life.”
She gave a watery laugh. “That sounds like it belongs in a romance novel.”
He kissed her again, then gently brushed his thumb under her cheek to wipe away her tears. “Happily-ever-after, my love.”
A Duke for All Seasons
I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed time you spent with Regina and Andrew! As you could probably tell, Pride and Prejudice played a big part in this little novella. But did you know when Jane Austen originally published her works they really were written under the pseudonym ‘A Lady’? With the exception of close family and friends, she was not recognized as an author until after her death at the age of 41. Something that’s hard to imagine in this day and age of social media where everyone seems to know everything about everybody!
If you could take a few moments to right a review for The Summer Duke, I would greatly appreciate (as always). This novella was finished during a difficult time in my personal life, and is truly a labor of love.
I’m looking forward to sharing Kitty and Byron’s story with you in The Autumn Duchess, the fourth and final book in the Duke for All Seasons quartet!
About the Author
Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now lives in Pennsylvania on a five-acre farmette with her husband, their three boys, a miniature donkey, and a draft mule. From an early age Jillian knew she wanted to be a writer, and is absolutely thrilled she gets to do what she loves every day.
In addition to writing, she enjoys gardening, going for walks, working on never ending projects around the house, and reading.
She really, really, really hates laundry.
Read on for an excerpt from Runaway Duchess, the first book in Jillian’s London Ladies series. On sale from July 10th – 17th for just $0.99 cents!
Runaway Duchess
Gavin Graystone did not have a very high opinion of his first ball.
To his mind it was a cluttered, tedious affair filled with high society nabobs who had nothing better to do than throw a party for themselves to celebrate how bloody rich and important they all were.
There was no gambling, no brawling, no women rubbing against his side like cats in heat. Thank God he had thought to bring his own whiskey for it seemed only lemonade – lemonade – was being served. Were it not for his need to meet with new potential clients and the fact that he had turned in a very big favor to ensure an invitation, he would have left hours ago.
Pulling a silver flask from beneath his black waistcoat, he took a liberal swig before collapsing his long, lanky body into a leather chair. Having retreated to an adjoining study some time ago in an effort to find quiet amidst the babbling chaos, he had little intention of returning, at least not until the whiskey took some effect.
Gavin had not expected to be well received, and his assumption proved correct. He was, after all, the son of a baker, a common man without an ounce of blue blood running through his veins and no title to precede his na
me. But he was an ambitious man and a wealthy one besides. In truth he most likely could have bought and sold half the lords in attendance three times over, a fact they were very well aware of. It made them despise him all the more, even as they curried his favor like simpering pups begging for a bone.
But they were purebred pups, he reminded himself with a sardonic tilt of his mouth. While he, no matter how much financial success he achieved, would always be seen as nothing more than a mangy mutt who was not fit to live in the same household, let alone eat from the same silver bowl, as his blue blooded cousins.
When Gavin heard the door to the study open with an audible creak followed by the unmistakable scurry of small feet and the crinkle of crinoline, he grimaced and took one last swig from his flask, draining the contents in one satisfying swallow that left his throat burning and his mind pleasantly fuzzy.
He had wondered how long it would be before an overzealous mother sent her daughter searching for him. There was more than one money hungry family in attendance tonight whom would be willing to overlook his lack of title if it meant their salvation from financial ruin, and they had not been shy in letting him know it.
“If you are looking for Graystone he is not here,” Gavin drawled, not bothering to stand or even turn around to see what the fancy bit of fluff looked like. He had no intention of being lured into marriage by a member of the nobility, no matter how fair her features or soft her bosom. No, when he finally chose to take a wife it would be to a girl of his own class who had not been raised with a silver spoon jammed down her throat. One who knew what it felt like to work for what she had and did not laze about all day sipping watered down tea and getting fat on crumpets.
He sincerely doubted there was a more spoiled creature in the entire world than a high society brat, and he abhorred their haughty demeanors and the way they looked down their nose at him when they had done nothing to earn their lot in life save being born to the right set of parents.
“I did not realize anyone was in here,” the intruder – unmistakably female if her soft, lilting voice was any indication – replied.
Gavin rolled his eyes at the dormant fireplace before him. “Do you make it a habit to wander into dark empty rooms by yourself?”
“Do you make it a habit to sit in dark empty rooms drinking by yourself?”
He stared down at his empty flask, well hidden from view in the crook of his arm, and frowned. “How do you know I was drinking?”
His unwanted guest snorted under her breath. “Because it reeks of spirits in here. And what other reason would a gentleman have to retreat to a dark room than drink himself foolish? Unless you’ve been jilted. Are you?”
“Am I what?” he asked irritably.
“Jilted.”
Gavin gave that question all the response it deserved, which was to say none at all. Still, he could not stop himself from leaning on one elbow and peering around the side of the chair to see who had marched into the study with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.
The light was dim and the air heavy with shadow, but what he was able to see had his eyes widening and a low whistle of appreciation forming between his lips. Lady or no – and he would be willing to bet everything he owned she was a lady – there was no denying the chit her stunning beauty.
Her countenance was that of an angel’s, all soft lines and creamy skin with a pert little nose that hinted at stubbornness and a full, voluptuous mouth just begging to be kissed. Her eyes, neither brown nor green but a captivating mixture of the two, were tilted at the corners and framed by the longest lashes he had ever seen. Curls the color of fire framed her heart shaped face and tumbled down over bare shoulders, drawing his eye to the rest of her body.
His gaze traveled leisurely from the rounded tops of her breasts to her trimmed in waist and back again, drinking his fill. He had gone too long without a woman, and certainly too long without one who looked like this. She was a vision, and were it not for the fact that she had undoubtedly been sent to him like a lamb to the proverbial slaughter, he would have done more than just enjoy her with his eyes.
“Are you done yet?” the titian haired goddess asked in a very un-goddess like tone. “Or would you like me to do a turn and stick out my tongue so you can check my teeth?”
“Would you?” he asked hopefully, and he grinned despite himself when she merely pinned her hands to her hips and cocked one eyebrow. Bounding to his feet with ease, he stepped around the chair and leaned up against the back of it, crossing his arms over his wide chest and raising one of his own eyebrows in turn. “Gavin Graystone at your service, my lady. Congratulations. You have found me.”
Her lips thinned. “I thought you said Graystone was not here. A liar and a drunk? No wonder you are in hiding.”
She was good, he would give her that. He was amused by her belligerence and impressed with her wit, two things so rarely found among the beauties of the ton. They were undeniably pretty to look at, but the moment they opened their mouths the poor girls revealed they had nothing in their heads save feathers and rocks.
“I suppose now you will try to say you came across me by complete coincidence, and there is no one waiting outside the door to catch us alone together in a compromising position.” Some of his amusement fled at the thought that he had, in all likelihood, just revealed the girl’s plan. Beautiful face or not, she was no different than the rest. Conniving wenches, all of them. “A valiant effort, my lady, but one I fear will be wasted. I am no prancing dandy to be so easily fooled, nor a fox to be chased to ground by a pack of howling bitches.”
Her lips parted at the slur and two splotches of color appeared high on her cheeks. “You are correct when you say you are not a fox, Mr. Graystone, for they are cunning, handsome animals while you possess the qualities more commonly associated with a boar!”
A reluctant smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Your flattery could do with some work. Best return to your mother and practice some more before you attempt to snare a husband by fair means or foul.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think I am doing? Well, let me assure you that a husband is the last thing I require, especially a husband like you!”
“Every woman wants a husband,” he said confidently.
“Then I must not be a woman. Good day to you, Mr. Graystone.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I would say it was a pleasure to make you acquaintance, but that would be a lie.”
Gavin did not know why he did it. One moment he was lounging against the chair; the next he was uncoiling to his full height of six feet and crossing the room to stand behind the girl as she attempted to leave.
She wrenched the door open. He moved with lightening quickness to slam it shut. He saw the muscles in her shoulders and neck tighten before she whirled to face him and lifted her chin, a warrior princess with a Cupid’s bow mouth just asking to be ravished.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“You cannot leave yet,” he said huskily. Lord, but she smelled sweet. Like violets and sunshine and something a little dark. A little dangerous. She was dangerous, if only for the fact that she made it so temptingly easy to forget who and what she was: an innocent, but worse than that – far worse, to Gavin’s mind – a highborn lady.
Aye, this one’s blood was as blue as they came; he would stake his life on it. He struggled to remember why he hated the nobility, but it was a losing battle. In this moment, in this breath, she was only a woman and he was only a man.
He ached to touch her. To know the feel of her skin. The taste of her flesh. The sound of her sigh.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered.
In the dancing candlelight her eyes were endless pools of shimmering amber. He shifted closer and her eyes widened, but she did not look away or fight to be free of him. She stood quietly, her head tipped slightly to the right, her arms poised motionless at her sides. Gavin wet his lips. The small motion drew her gaze to his mouth, and the naïve curi
osity he saw flicker across her face was nearly his undoing.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, dropping his head and bracing his arms on either side of the door, effectively pinning her against it. From inside his chest his heart pounded and his pulse raced, as if he were an eager, inexperienced lad about to lose his virginity all over again.
When had a woman ever affected him like this, let alone a slip of a girl with fire in her hair and steel in her eyes?
Never. The answer was never.
“Tell me to let you go,” he said roughly, dragging one hand from the door to cup the delicate curve of her jaw. Her skin felt like velvet.
Her eyes were like fire, her voice like smoke. “Why?” she whispered.
Why indeed? Throwing caution to the wind, Gavin muttered a savage oath as he claimed her mouth with his.
Description
A wealthy entrepreneur with a dark past, Gavin Graystone is not looking for love. But he does need a wife. Setting his sights on Charlotte Vanderley, a lady of impeccable breeding - albeit questionable temperament - he makes it clear from the very beginning that emotion will have no place in their relationship. As far as he is concerned marriage is a business contract. Nothing more and nothing less.
Desperate to escape her engagement to the lecherous old Duke of Tarrow, feisty, free-spirited Charlotte jumps at the opportunity to marry Gavin. Running away with him will mean defying one of the most powerful men in all of England, but Charlotte has never let a little adversity - or a surly rogue - stand in her way. Gavin may not be a fairy-tale prince, but he's certainly better than a man three times her age. And he's an excellent kisser.
But marriages of convenience rarely go as planned, and as Charlotte and Gavin embark on a journey that will take them from Gretna Green to the rolling hills of Southampton and the crowded streets of London, they find themselves doing the one thing they both vowed they would never do.
The Summer Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 3) Page 9