Darkest Valentine

by Leona Bushman

  Darkest Valentine

  Book 1, Darkest series

  By Leona Bushman

  Leona Bushman

  Darkest Valentine

  Copyright 2018 Leona Bushman

  Darkest Series, book 1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and incidents are used fictionally, or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to real places or people are purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please use an accepted lending program, or purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, borrow it through an accepted lending program, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and her team.

  Author’s note: Many locales and places are real from the time period, but many are made up. Hampsteads is one such place. It is a club of my own creation. Enjoy your story.

  Leona Bushman

  Acknowledgements:

  To Samantha Holt, who set these wheels in motion to reality.

  With profuse thanks to my friend and editor, Ishabelle Tory. You helped me make this book all it could be. To Victoria Miller, whose cover art is magnificent, as always.

  For my Muse. This one’s for you. Love you.

  Prologue

  England, 1834

  The duke stood behind his stately desk, both hands pressed on top as he leaned forward. “I will report you for fraud. I will take it to the highest authority and make sure you are ruined so that you cannot fleece another man. What you have done is dishonorable, sir. You do not deserve the titles given you.”

  “You pompous ass.” The cruel laughter echoed in the study. “You are one of those nobles who buy into being of nobility?” He sneered.

  “The titles are meant to be kept in honor, to protect the crown, and take care of those less fortunate. Not be a brigand, a base robber.” The duke sat in his chair, steepled his fingers together in front of him, then continued in his deep voice. “You are lower than the lowest person in this great empire. I will make it my mission to see that you are stripped of all titles forthwith.”

  “I think not, Your Grace.” The pistol went off louder than he’d expected within the enclosed space. Good thing the staff had the night off. Blood and grayish ick coated the wall behind the former duke. He put the pistol down in the lifeless hand on the desk, wrapping the finger around the trigger, then took out a sheet of the duke’s paper, and proceeded to write a suicide note.

  He sneered again. Now who would be disgraced?

  Chapter One

  London, 1840

  Not wanting to consider that she was at the Hampsteads because of Father—another special meeting for the House of the Lords—Lady Lillian Della Lancaster stood at the top of the stairs, waiting to be announced. Though bored, at least she did not have to go through the ordeal of coming out again. That experience could go rest in Hades.

  Is it possible that Queen Victoria has actually made an appearance here?

  Not that it mattered. With its spotless reputation and glittering ballroom, it provided the lords and ladies of Polite Society a welcome gathering place for those early to town for the Season. She stepped forward, pulling her brother Robert along, noting she was next in line and wondering about those who might find a husband this season.

  Not that she was at all interested in that sort of thing.

  Though Father had other ideas for her, titles and fripperies could wait. Besides, she had earned her own title and couldn’t be bothered with it all. Her friend’s plight occupied her mind with great anticipation at receiving news this evening.

  Enduring her brother’s company while being put on the marriage mart caused her some trepidation, but she wished to be home even less. Lillian smoothed her gown and prepared to go downstairs. The wider skirt fell in graceful blue tiers, flaring out from her small waist. The lace along her bodice matched that on her reticule. Stepping forward and walking down the spiral staircase, she held her head high.

  Last season, Robert had nearly ruined her on multiple occasions between his uncouth manner toward her and his manipulations to keep her from a suitable husband. Perhaps he would stop if he knew she had no wish for such things?

  He deserted her as soon as they hit the bottom of the oak staircase. Fine by her. She had other plans, and despite being stopped by many finely dressed men and women for a word, it only took her a few minutes to find Sarah, one of her best friends. She took a moment to admire her friend’s senses of fashion.

  Sarah’s dress bore more lace, with yellow silk roses embroidered on it, and was not quite as wide as her own, but Lillian envied her friend’s ability to wear the brilliant orange hue of the dress. It would make Lillian appear mealy mouthed and sickly, but on her friend, it brought out her auburn highlights and gave a rich tone to her skin. After quick greetings, they did the usual gossip until they found some privacy. They put their heads together, whispering about their good friend, Hermione.

  “She is beside herself with shame and upsetedness. The servants almost did not allow me to pass. Imagine, they turned down the Countess of York!”

  Lillian turned her head to sweep the crowd dancing to the orchestra and flicked her fan open to hide her laughter. Since coming in to her Scottish title, Sarah had taken every opportunity to say it. “I cannot fathom any being foolish enough to try such a thing,” she replied truthfully. Sarah was like a force of nature once she decided on a course of action.

  Robert emerged from the cardroom as her gaze roamed, and she clenched her teeth. No doubt losing the allowance Father afforded him. A brief moment of sadness hit her as she wished they were closer the way Hermione was with her brother. Robert would not dream of protecting her from the ton’s backlash if she were to embroil herself into a problem of the magnitude Hermione found herself in.

  “Lord Archie came by before I gave the butler a piece of my mind. I swear by Queen Victoria, if he had not, that servant’s ears would still be ringing!”

  Lillian eyed her friend with interest. Though the anger remained in Sarah’s tones, something else gave her voice an undercurrent. “You like Hermione’s brother? You like Lord Archie.”

  “I—whatever do you mean?” Her voice rose to a higher pitch. “Of course I do. He’s always been kind to us.”

  “No you don’t, Sarah Joy Hargrove, Countess of York. You know precisely what I mean. Does he know?” Lillian gasped. “I’m your best friend. You should have said! Does Hermione know?”

  Sarah grasped her hand and squeezed. “No, no one knows, except you now. I have loved him since I was but fifteen at my parents’ funeral. He took care of me and convinced his parents to allow me to stay over with Hermione. I was so alone. It took me until I came out to put a name to my feelings.”

  Lillian squeezed back. “I promise not to give you away. You must tell him. He has a title, and another that will equal yours once his father has died.”

  Lillian’s heart broke as she saw her friend blink back tears. “Maybe. He has had to deal with so much, and now, with Hermione’s condition…”

  Of course. “Silly of me. Did they come up with a cover story? Or is she to remain in hiding the rest of her life?”

  “Her parents are mortified and beyond helping.” Sarah’s voice held a faint whiff of disgust. “However, Archie has come up with a grand scheme, though the inspiration is rather unfortunate.”

  “Sarah, you are
being maddingly unhelpful and longwinded tonight. What is it? Tell me the plan.” Lillian had to wonder if Sarah realized how familiar she spoke of him, as if already a couple.

  “They are going to bandy about that she eloped with a man, a soldier of no title to Gretna Green.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, and that he died of a fever on the way to China to fight the opium trade issues. It really happened to Archie’s friend from university. That’s what made him think of it.”

  Lillian used great will power not to tease her friend of the familiar use of Lord Archie’s name. However, if it had any chance of success, they had to put the plan in action as soon as possible for Hermione’s protection. “The fact she eloped and ran off with an untitled man would be enough reason for the family to not have spoken of it. It might work. Moreover, we need to start the rumors now.”

  Sarah grinned. “You are quick. It took me longer. But yes. Lord Archie has asked that we talk about it and how Hermione’s parents are devastated that their daughter ran off with a nobody and got married back in November.”

  Lillian smiled. “I know the perfect place, too. Eufemia is here tonight. She is wearing that awful fuchsia which Maude has pushed this season. For truth, I saw her dress before knowing who wore it on my way to find you. Still, it should afford us an easier time in finding Eufemia.”

  “That malicious gossip—oh, yes. Perfect. Shall we?”

  Lillian put her arm through her friend’s as they walked. As long as she stayed with Sarah and Sarah’s chaperone who stood off an appropriate few paces, she would be fine and could avoid her brother longer. His scowl upon leaving the cardroom did not bode well for her. He tended to take his losses out on her if she was in the vicinity.

  While keeping an eye out for Robert, she noticed an attractive red-headed man dressed in black save for his blue cravat. His broad shoulders particularly caught her attention until she gazed upon his face. His blue eyes gleamed as he watched her intensely, the sadness there striking a chord in her even from where she stood. Something about him had her wanting a closer look. Though he stood with a group of men on the sidelines of the dance floor, he lifted his glass to her as they passed, and she blushed at being caught staring and quickly looked away. His gaze stirred a restless excitement in her, and the flushed warmth would not leave her.

  “Who is that red-headed man,” she whispered to Sarah.

  Sarah peered over her shoulder, and Lillian pulled her forward. “Don’t look, you ninny. He’ll catch you. There are but few red heads in the ton.”

  “Too late, he did. And that is the Duke of Canterbury, but he is better known as The Dark Duke. How do you not know him? I am sure I have mentioned him.”

  “Well, I don’t remember, so give.”

  “He is said to have gone mad with grief after his father’s death. Servants disappearing, even the men of the ton refuse to cross him in business.” Sarah shook her head as if above it all. “Whispers and rumors is all. Though that has not stopped every eligible female—save us—from flinging themselves at him. He also has two sisters. One made her debut to the queen this past year and is being launched this season. That is probably why he is here.”

  His father’s death explained the sadness she sensed earlier. Lillian tried a discreet peek back at him, only to find him still watching her. He again lifted his glass, and she sucked in an embarrassed breath and hid behind indignation and fanned herself. How cheeky of him!

  She was about to ask her friend about the man’s rather alarming nickname when Sarah grabbed her hand. “There’s Eufemia. Be ready.”

  Lillian flipped her fan closed, and then they both waited until they approached within earshot of the horrid gossip.

  “I was there. Her poor mother is distraught. Her own daughter running off to Gretna Green and marrying like that—and to a nobody.” Sarah clasped her chest in a decidedly dramatic fashion.

  Lillian bit back the smile, focusing on her friend as if desperate to catch every word.

  “She is quite beside herself. I hear the servants have to keep pressing smelling salts under her nose almost by the hour!” Sarah’s loud whispers were clearly heard, for Eufemia’s head shot up.

  “No. Say it isn’t so. You mean she eloped and married a man without a title?” Lillian did her part to sound aghast. “What did her father do?”

  “Apparently, after much yelling and gnashing of teeth, nothing. The man left for war a month later, out to China, and then had the gall to die of a fever. But that’s not the worst part…” Sarah trailed her voice as they moved out of earshot.

  Lillian breathed a sigh of relief once they were finished. The groundwork had been set to save her friend. It still would be a hard path to regain her reputation, but running off and marrying was a scandal which could actually make her more popular with the bored women of Polite Society who needed entertainment at their dinner parties, she thought with a touch of cynicism. Whatever it took to save her friend, she would do. Hermione did not deserve the treatment she’d received from that bounder, her circumstances another example of the inequality for women which frustrated her no end.

  “Did you see Eufemia’s face?” Sarah giggled. “I wager not an ear will be missed. No one will be able to leave here without hearing the tale.”

  Lillian laughed. “By morning, Hermione’s reputation will be at least salvageable. I swear, I could wring the Marquess of Oxford’s neck with my own hands.”

  “Let us move on to more pleasant matters,” Sarah said and then raised her eyebrow and flicked open her fan. “Or perhaps it will have to wait. The Dark Duke is headed this way.”

  “What?” Lillian turned and saw him headed toward them. Their eyes met, and mesmerized by his brooding gaze, she began to walk toward him. “He is rather dashing,” she said.

  “Lillian! I have never seen you act this way toward a man,” Sarah whispered, grabbing her arm to forestall her. “What has gotten into you?”

  “Introduce us,” she whispered back. “I want to meet him. And at least Father can’t complain about his title.” For the first time since being a debutante last season, she found herself wishing she knew how to flirt better. She lifted her fan to open it up when her brother stood between her and the duke. She tried to peer around him, but the duke disappeared into the crowd, his red hair all she could see for several moments before losing track.

  “Lillian, I need some ready.” Robert grabbed her upper arm as he spoke.

  Already annoyed, she snapped harsher than usual. “Robert, I told you, my allowance is less than half of yours.”

  “I’ll pay you back—if you don’t.”

  With punches and pinches if I let you. More to get him to leave her alone than anything, she dipped into her silk reticule and handed him the little bit of money she had. “I have no more, so don’t even ask,” she warned.

  Robert smiled at her, and again, she found herself wishing for more of an affectionate relationship with him. His smile held no warmth, no feelings other than avarice and snide entitlement over her. Why did he have to turn out more like their Uncle Jarvis than their father? Overbearing, she could deal with, but cruel? She shook her head and turned to Sarah.

  “Your brother is not a nice man,” Sarah noted. “How come you are still giving him money? I thought you had decided not to.”

  “He hurt my maid when I stopped completely. When it was just me, I could avoid it or take it, but I couldn’t let him do that to Janice.”

  “Tell your father!”

  “It’s only for a little while longer,” she reminded Sarah. “Besides, I do not know how Father will handle it. Robert is his only son. I’d rather not find out how Father would choose.” She was very much afraid that it would be her who lost.

  Sarah hugged her, and Lillian soaked in the warmth of the embrace, grateful to have a true friend.

  “I’m so sorry. Shall we go searching for your handsome duke? At least one of us could have a dance.”

  Lillian smiled at her friend
. “You could have had twenty dances by now if you would quit freezing them with your eyes.”

  “As could you. Aren’t we a pair?”

  They visited for another hour when Robert found her again. “It is time to go, Lillian.”

  “I do not want to go yet. Sarah and I are discussing some mutual friends.” And I have no wish to be in a carriage with you while freshly angered from losses.

  Robert dug his fingers into her arm. “As your chaperone for the evening, you will leave when I say.”

  Lillian gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to allow him the pleasure of knowing how much it hurt. “Fine. I must collect my cloak first.”

  He force marched her to the cloak room without giving her the chance to say goodbye to Sarah. Then he left her there, saying, “I will have our carriage pulled round then come back and get you.”

  She nodded and rolled her eyes behind his back. He’d obviously lost the money she’d given him on top of his own and managed to do it faster than ever. She frowned in frustration. He would choose tonight to leave early. She’d never found the handsome duke again. It was the first party of the season. He’d be to others, wouldn’t he? Then again, if she wasn’t getting married, why did she care?

  She waited a long time for her brother. The servant started giving her pitying glances, so she left and went out front to the stone semi-circle driveway just in time to see what appeared to be her brother’s carriage move away from her. She called out and ran a few steps before collecting herself.

  Now what?

  She could hardly go back in unchaperoned, and the longer she stood there, the higher the risk of being caught and branded as a loose women and be in as much danger as Hermione. Her dear friend stayed cooped up in isolation because she would be punished for a man’s indiscretion and lies.

  Frustration smacked her in the face again at the unfairness of the rules. One day, she would push to change the rules somehow. If she were male, she’d already be on her own, not stuck in her father’s home with a brother who played tricks on her. She looked about and watched for a carriage for hire.