Scandalizing the Duke
The Wolverton World
Leslie V. Knowles
Published by Leslie V. Knowles, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SCANDALIZING THE DUKE
First edition. February 23, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Leslie V. Knowles.
ISBN: 978-1736493502
Written by Leslie V. Knowles.
Also by Leslie V. Knowles
The Wolverton World
Scandalizing the Duke (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Leslie V. Knowles’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Leslie V. Knowles
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
Sign up for Leslie V. Knowles's Mailing List
Also By Leslie V. Knowles
About the Author
For my husband, who is my greatest supporter and the love of my life.
CHAPTER 1
Charlotte Longborough looked out at the nearly dry Mayfair street below her bedchamber window and grinned. Finally. For the first time in a week, the rain had stopped. She’d been disappointed to see nothing of London other than the soggy view from the carriage window when she and her sisters arrived in the city. She’d not even ventured to Hyde park, though it lay just two blocks from their aunt and uncle’s door. But now, sunlight dawned, a page had turned, and the adventure of her Season beckoned. Flutters filled her stomach and took flight into her throat.
She tugged the window up and took a deep breath. Charlotte loved the freshness of the air after rain. She loved that there were broad green havens like the park in the middle of the city. But most of all, she loved that Aunt Poppy had agreed to sponsor Charlotte’s Season and had insisted Elizabeth, enjoy a second one. Aunt Poppy had even allowed Sarah to come, though she was too young to take part in the Season itself.
An unwelcome thought intruded, and she caught her lip between her teeth. Until she arrived in London, it hadn’t bothered her to know she was the least interesting of her sisters, but Elizabeth hadn’t had a single offer last year. If her beautiful and talented sister hadn’t received any offers, how could Charlotte, with her mouse brown hair and ordinary features, hope for one?
Charlotte dearly wanted a family of her own. She wanted a husband who adored her as much as Papa had loved Mama, and babes of her own to hold and care for. Yet, if she did receive an offer, it wouldn’t seem right if she married before Elizabeth. Charlotte crossed her fingers, then wondered if it were sacrilegious to do so while she prayed both she and Elizabeth would succeed in making respectable matches by summer.
A soft whuffle, and a tongue that dampened her fingers, made her look away from the view. Amber brown eyes gazed at her with worshipful expression. “What do you say, Harry,” she said as she scratched behind the ears of the half-grown beast who leaned against her leg. Even seated, the dog’s head reached her waist. “Would you’d like a walk in the park as much as I would?”
She laughed when he barked as though he understood, tail wagging wildly. He’d been a pathetic collection of matted fur and bone when she saved him from an abusive drunkard at an inn along the way to London, and his appearance had been only slightly improved with a bath.
After she rescued Harry, Elizabeth had warned her that such impulsive actions could jeopardize her standing as a well behaved young lady, and that it didn’t take much to become the brunt of society gossip. Had that happened to Elizabeth? Surely not. Charlotte was the impulsive member of the family, not Elizabeth.
Charlotte went down to breakfast where she found Elizabeth and Sarah enjoying hot chocolate, eggs and toast with their aunt and uncle. Since they’d come to London, Elizabeth dressed her hair in a softer style than she wore at home, and Charlotte envied her the rich sable color that made Charlotte’s own light brown hair look non-descript and boring. Sarah’s hair was darker than hers too, and had a glint that was not quite auburn, but made the deep brown glow with life even when confined to her school-room braids. Envy aside, she was glad they were here with her.
She seated herself, accepted a cup of chocolate from the footman, then turned to her Aunt. “Now that the sun is shining at last, may we walk to the park this morning? Poor Harry needs exercise even more than I.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Elizabeth and Sarah added together.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Aunt Poppy agreed with a nod, “But don’t linger too long. I, too, look forward to an outing. I thought we might go shopping later.”
As soon as they finished breakfast, Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Sarah set out for the park with Harry, their maids, and a trailing footman. The clear sky and light breeze refreshed and lightened their spirits after days of damp gloom.
Once there, Harry made erratic progress as he alternately pulled ahead, then stopped to smell odd places on the park’s gravel path. His sudden surges and stops made Charlotte wonder if she should relinquish the lead for the large exuberant creature to the footman until Harry received proper training, At the moment, however, she preferred to keep him on the move. Since it wasn’t the fashionable hour to stroll, there were few in the park, though Charlotte saw some nursemaids supervising their charges on the far side.
A gentleman on a distinctive gray gelding trotted by along the row and Charlotte admired the horse’s spirited gait. She glanced at the rider when he passed them and her step faltered. Though she couldn’t see his face properly, cold dread washed over her, as though the waters of the fast-flowing river back home pulled her under, robbing her of breath. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she watched his progress with all the horror of her childhood fears until he reached the far end of the park.
Harry jerked against the lead pulling her back to the present. Her sisters had paused for her to catch up and Charlotte took a calming breath before she rejoined them. She struggled to dismiss her reaction to the stranger on the horse. Surely, she was mistaken. But the chill of unease remained. What if she wasn’t?
"There are no people over by the trees, so it might be best if we walked in that direction," Elizabeth said as she scratched behind Harry’s ears. He showed his appreciation with a personal sniff in the natural manner of dogs and she gave a startled gasp before carefully shifting his nose to a more genteel location. “Harry is a dear, but he has still to learn his manners."
Sarah giggled and Charlotte gave the lead a sharp tug.
Her disquiet eased when she looked at her younger sister, whose dreams often revealed joys and upsets to come. If actual danger threatened, Sarah would surely be the first to know, and warn her.
Charlotte turned to speak to Elizabeth but Harry suddenly gave a delighted woof and nearly pulled her off her feet when he took off toward the trees. She fought to hang onto the dog's lead and to keep her balance while he hauled her across the grass. She yanked bac
k on the leather lead. "Harry," she cried. "Stay!"
Charlotte tugged to no avail and fought to remain upright while Harry pulled her to where he barked and leapt against a large oak. The abrupt lack of tension in the lead and a protruding rock combined to pitch her forward just before three horsemen thundered out of the trees directly in front of her. She fell to the ground with an unladylike grunt, let go of the lead, and landed in a puddle of mud.
Harry gave another sharp bark.
A man’s voice cursed, "Bloody Hell!”
Charlotte ducked her head and the horse's hoof missed her by inches. The damp earth beneath her cheek vibrated when the horse stamped about in a confusion of barking dog, cursing male and the distant cries of her sisters above her head. Instinctively, she froze in place lest she put a limb in the way of anyone or thing that might land on it. The commotion seemed to last forever before a snuffling muzzle at her cheek followed by a tentative wet puppy lick let her know that the danger had passed.
"Oh, Harry," she muttered. "You silly beast. What were you chasing?" Charlotte opened her eyes and focused on a pair of booted feet before a gloved hand reached down to offer her assistance.
"Are you hurt, Miss?”
A man knelt beside her. His baritone voice touched something deep inside, made her nerves spark, and her breath hitch. A peculiar warmth blossomed through her when she looked into vivid blue eyes. Her pulse galloped and her voice trembled when she answered, “I don’t believe so.”
Charlotte blinked and looked away to the gloved hand he held toward her, and accepted his assistance to stand. She took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of sandalwood and leather mixed with freshly crushed grass and damp mulch. She raised her gaze to observe his squared jaw, clamped mouth and lowered brows before noting that his eyes met hers only briefly before they glanced at her mouth then lowered to her bodice.
A flicker of something—a darkening focus—made Charlotte glance down. The warmth of her awareness turned into the fire of humiliation.
Grass stained her bodice in the most embarrassing locations and mud covered her blue walking dress. Her embarrassment doubled when she saw her rescuer’s pantaloons were also splattered with muck.
"I beg your pardon for putting you into more danger than your circumstances had already thrown you." He glanced at Harry, who sat nearby with his tongue lolling.
"It is I who should apologize," Charlotte protested. "Harry is new to the lead, and I should have given him over to a footman to control until he has learned not to give chase without command."
"Dash it all," a new voice made Charlotte look to her right where a sandy-haired man in buckskins and a bottle green riding jacket settled his horse and dismounted. His bronzed skin marked him as a dedicated sportsman. "Tell me you've not maimed the lady."
Elizabeth and Sarah caught up to her, eyes wide and faces pale. "Charlotte, are you hurt?"
“Only my dignity,” Charlotte assured them.
Charlotte glanced around to see who else had witnessed her embarrassing downfall and found herself observed by another blond gentleman, the third rider of the group. He also dismounted, doffed his hat and announced, "Any lady who can cause Wolverton to nearly lose his seat must be made known to us. Pray allow us to make acquaintance with these ladies, Your Grace."
Wolverton? As in the Duke of Wolverton? Charlotte nearly groaned aloud. She’d made a point of reviewing her aunt’s copy of Debrett’s Peerage to learn who she might meet during the Season, and the Duke was at the top of the list of unmarried gentlemen she’d assembled.
The duke surveyed her and her sisters, before his lips firmed and his expression shuttered. “I have not had the privilege myself, so you must curb your curiosity, Ravencliffe.” He gave Charlotte a stiffly correct bow and told her, “I am sorry to have intruded on your day. As you are unhurt, I shall take my leave. Should we meet again I hope it will be under more favorable conditions.” He remounted his horse as did the other two gentlemen. “Lead the way, Norcross,” he told the sportsman. All three gentlemen doffed their hats before guiding their horses out of the park at a much more sedate pace.
Charlotte had known it was silly to include gentlemen above her station in her notations, but she had. Along with the duke, Lords Ravencliffe and Norcross would be stricken from her list as soon as she arrived home. First impressions counted, and all three gentlemen would forever associate her with mud and chaos.
THE HUM OF CONVERSATION in the upper room of White’s Gentleman’s Club should have relaxed Lucien Caldwell, Duke of Wolverton, where he leaned back in his club’s leather chair with a frown over his unsettling day. He’d nearly trampled a young woman with his horse this morning. Even if the woman hadn’t been pulled into his path by her unruly dog, he’d ignored the ordinance against racing in the park. He never acted impulsively, but he’d challenged his friends and taken off with uncharacteristic disregard for the reason the ordinance existed. He knew better. But for some reason he’d given in to the sudden urge to ignore propriety and ride wild and free.
He studied his half-brother, Tristan, who had just added another conflicting layer of relief and irritation to his disquiet. No longer the skinny gutter-rat of a boy their father scandalized society with by bringing him into their home, Tristan remained lean, but now appeared as respectable as Lucien or any other gentleman in the club. Of course most of the members would never consider a bastard respectable.
He contemplated the single finger of brandy remaining in his glass before telling Tristan, “Anne will be devastated if you miss her come out."
"She will be exposed to ridicule and whispers if I take part in her Season."
Lucien’s jaw tightened. The flash of relief he’d experienced when Tristan announced he would be gone during his sister’s Season irritated him. It also irritated him that the old scandal still threatened his peace of mind after all this time. The scandalous outrage had never been that the late duke had fathered the boy, but that he’d insisted Tristan be raised along-side his legitimate offspring.
For Lucien, who had been twelve to Tristan’s ten years, it had been a blow that left him angry and resentful for longer than he cared to remember, and had resulted in consequences that had impacted them all. Familiar guilt tightened his chest and clogged his throat. At least that aspect of their relationship had been resolved.
Tristan gestured toward the wood-paneled room where a host of gentlemen conversed over wines and spirts. "If anyone here disapproves of my presence and gives me the cut direct, it doesn't hurt Anne's feelings, or her chances for a good match.” He sipped at his own glass and met Lucien's gaze, "But if I take an active part in her come-out, the gossips will have a field day reviving the scandal. Anne will be faced with snide remarks and simpering sympathy." He paused, his eyes reflecting sardonic amusement. "And she won't be able to challenge them to fisticuffs the way we did."
Lucien's knuckles whitened around the glass. He recalled all too well the sudden silences in conversation when he passed his schoolmates, and the embarrassed suspicion that their laughter was aimed at him. He’d learned to disguise his humiliation behind a wall of civil reserve, and when he gained the title, he had vowed he would never allow the family to be gossip fodder again. He defied the gabble-mongers by living a pristine life.
Tristan's eyes didn’t waver. "If I’m not available, the waters of society will remain smooth and untroubled."
The footman returned and Lucien considered Tristan's argument while the man replaced Lucien's empty glass with a fresh one. The heady scent of aged brandy rose when he swirled the amber liquid.
"You do realize that if you’re not at Anne's ball it will draw more attention to the past than if you are. Any lack of family unity after all these years would send a message of discord and create a new scandal at a time when it would affect Anne's future the most.” He sipped his brandy and glared at Tristan. “We need no scandals of any kind—real or inferred—to interfere with Anne's Season."
The footman mov
ed on to another patron and Lucien sat forward to argue his point. "The rest of the ton might remain calm, but when Anne realizes what you've done and why you've done it, those waters will become very choppy and your boat-full of good intentions will be sunk in a sea of outrage and disappointment. She isn’t brainless."
Tristan shifted in his chair. "There is that.”
"So you’ll at least attend her come-out ball."
Tristan avoided Lucien's gaze when he stood to leave, his expression pensive. “I’ll think about it."
Lucien ceased his argument. Tristan would do what he wanted to do—or not—as he always did. Lucien only hoped Anne would accept Tristan’s decision as well. As it was, Anne showed a decided disregard for the traditions of rank and the strictures of polite society. She accepted Tristan without question and scorned those who didn’t. Though Lucien was proud of her independence, her spirited attitude made him shudder at the social dangers it presented. In her support of their illegitimate brother, he worried she might encourage friends or suitors who were truly unsuitable.
Lucien’s thoughts were interrupted when Norcross arrived, took the seat Tristan had vacated, and released a deep sigh. “My mother has decided that she is quite ready for grandchildren and has begun visiting all the families who have marriageable daughters." He shuddered dramatically. "I suspect she is making a list of ladies who strike her as potential daughters-in-law.” Tall, athletic, and a viscount since childhood, Norcross had been the target of marriage-minded females long before he reached his majority.
"Fortunately, a list of candidates is not a marriage contract,” Lucien assured him. “Nor are you obliged to confine your eventual choice to a list made by your mother. Certainly, my stepmother knows I would never countenance the presumption of anyone else making such a choice for me.” The image of a blushing face with large gray eyes suddenly filled his mental vision. He blinked and took a quick sip of his brandy to banish it. His eyes narrowed and he declared, “She also knows I decided long ago that I’ll not marry until both Anne and Rowena are launched. I don’t need to start a new family until I’ve seen to the one I already have.”
Scandalizing the Duke Page 1
