Dukes by the Dozen

by Grace Burrowes

  Tall boots, caked in mud, and muscular legs encased in buckskin came into her view. The man crouched and held out his hand. The palm was callused. Another cold wave of humiliation washed through her.

  “Allow me.”

  “Thank you. I can do this by myself.”

  “I know you can. But please allow me to help. You’d do the same for me.”

  Somehow, she couldn’t picture him groveling on all fours in the muck.

  He produced a handkerchief from his waistcoat.

  She shook her head. “It would be ruined.”

  “It’s only a bit of cloth, made for this purpose.”

  She reluctantly accepted it and wiped her eyes. A dark blot of mud covered the fine fabric.

  “I’m sorry; it’s stained already.” Embarrassment thickened her voice.

  “That was clearly its destiny, fulfilled in the hand of the worthiest of women.”

  His kindness tugged at her heart. Hearing his subtle accent and gentle words, she envisaged him as a prince on a fine horse in some far-off land, rescuing damsels in distress like herself. Beginning to think she might simply be imagining this man, Taylor tried to claw her way up the low bank, only to slip back down.

  “Please, will you deny this fellow traveler the same happy fate as his handkerchief?”

  “I’m covered with mud.”

  “What’s a smudge here or a smudge there?”

  Taylor shook her head, unable to stop a smile from forming on her lips. He was definitely trying to make light of the situation. Still, she wasn’t ready to face him—face anyone.

  “If you had not taken the plunge, then the task would have fallen to me. In every rescue, one person must be sacrificed. And you bravely took on that role yourself. Allow me to show my gratitude.”

  He wasn’t giving up. With a resigned sigh, she took his hand, and he began to pull her up.

  “I think I can manage from…” Her words were lost as her feet flew out from beneath her and she collapsed against him.

  “I’m certain you can.”

  One cheek lay on his chest. Dirt smeared his waistcoat. She took the time to inhale his enthralling scent and appreciated the powerful muscles supporting her before slowly trying to push herself away. “That was unexpected.”

  “I must confess, such unexpected outcomes are far more enjoyable than the….”

  He slipped, and suddenly she was holding him up. His face was pressed against her breasts. His arms wrapped around her hips. She tried to help him to straighten up, but instead, he held on tighter. The ridiculousness of the moment was colossal. She wanted to laugh. And from the little that Taylor could see of his face, he was amused too.

  When he got his feet under him, she let go at the same time that he did.

  “I think I’ll be fine now,” she murmured. “If you’d be so kind as to…”

  Suddenly, she was on her way down again, one leg heading for Aberdeen and the other toward Edinburgh. Somehow, she’d turned in his arms, and he was holding her up, his hands just beneath her breasts, squeezing her against him.

  “My apologies.”

  “Perfectly fine,” she managed to chirp. “Your intention was quite chivalrous.”

  For the first time in her life, a man was touching her breasts, her bottom, every inch of her—front and back—but none of it was in the cause of romance.

  She finally stood, and he released her. Taylor turned. Both of them now having regained their footing, she hazarded a glance. His shirt and waistcoat and trousers were as filthy as hers.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “That was my fault.”

  “Hardly. The pleasure was entirely mine, liebling.”

  She heard the huskiness in his voice, but hers didn’t sound any better. She felt warm and tingly and excited, regardless of the ludicrous circumstances.

  “You’re shivering. May I assist you into the carriage?”

  Taylor was shivering. Too soon, reality had returned. She still hadn’t really looked him in the face, and she was embarrassed to do so now. But it couldn’t be avoided. And when she did, she wished the ground would open and swallow her entirely.

  The stranger was beautiful, the embodiment of every woman’s dreams. Water glistened on the sharp planes of high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were full, and his tanned and weathered skin indicated that he was a man who spent a great deal of time outdoors. His eyes had the grey-green hue that the sea took on in a storm. And they were focused on her.

  Her skin warmed. A delicious knot formed in her belly. Taylor’s breath caught in her chest. She averted her gaze, staring at his lips. That was no help. Her heart drummed so loud against the walls of her chest that he had to hear it.

  “You’ll catch a fever standing here in the cold. Please allow me to escort you to your carriage.”

  She already had a fever, and it had nothing to do with the cold and the weather. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, but I can manage.”

  She took an involuntary step back and nearly tumbled once again into the ditch.

  He reached out and steadied her. His fingers lingered before letting go, and he offered his arm. “Wherever you wish to go, please allow me.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.” She practically sighed the words. The truth was, she could have stood there looking into those eyes all day. “But I should be able to manage…now.”

  Taylor carefully stepped across the soft ground and moved away from him. Her boots were heavy. Her dress sagged on her body. Her wet, filthy hair stuck to her face. She put one foot resolutely in front of the other, looking straight ahead as she passed the carriage. The grooms were already handing up the trunks to get underway.

  Her father was calling from the direction of the tree. She passed a magnificent black stallion pawing the earth. A cloak and hat had been tossed onto the saddle. She didn’t slow down. She had to keep going. She had to disappear. She shut her ears to everything and forged onward.

  Memories riffled through her mind like pages of a book open in the wind. Ballrooms. Standing on the edge of dance floors, hoping for a look, a glance, a flirtatious gesture. Like any other young woman, she’d wanted to be noticed. That wish had never been granted. Empty dance cards. No one even addressed her, let alone held her or called her liebling.

  Her father had always been quick to identify everything that was wrong with her. Happy to enumerate why no suitors sent up their cards. Too tall. Too fat. Too pale. Too smart. Too outspoken. So, after two long, disastrous Seasons, she closed her heart. She needed no romance. It was too painful.

  Taylor slipped as the road rose again, but she stayed upright. The rain-drenched Highland countryside blurred around her, but she continued on.

  Fortunately, after two years with not even the hint of a suitor, she became an heiress. As a rich and independent woman, she was secure for the rest of her life.

  With the money came attention. Her modest dowry had become a fortune, but she had no interest in a husband. She busied herself in the financial affairs of her family, visited her trusted friends, and ignored the social invitations that arrived every day.

  At twenty-seven years old, Taylor thought she was immune to men.

  Until this man. His chivalry. His strength. His kindness. His eyes. That liebling. And those absurd moments of clutching and falling and supporting each other in the mud.

  Don’t be a fool, she told herself, picking up the hem of her dress and increasing the length of her stride.

  “My lady. My lady, please stop.”

  Her maid’s distressed call cut into her thoughts. Taylor waited until she caught up with her.

  “You’re going to catch your death.”

  Taylor took her cloak from the older woman, who proceeded to fuss over her in an attempt to make her presentable. Taylor knew it was a lost cause.

  “They’re coming, my lady.”

  Taylor glanced back down the hill and was surprised at how far she’d walked. She caught a glimpse of a cloaked man astrid
e his black steed, riding away. As he disappeared around a bend in the distance, she felt oddly disconcerted, as if a beacon on the shore had suddenly vanished. He was here, and then he was gone.

  The handkerchief was still miraculously clutched in her fist. She tucked it into her sleeve.

  “His lordship said to wait. They’ll pick us up here.”

  Taylor watched the men finish strapping down the luggage. Her father and Clay had to be inside already. She felt drained, exhausted. She was not looking forward to climbing into that carriage. She had no stomach for any more arguments. Whatever had been said, whatever she’d done, it all meant nothing. This was simply another day in the wearying life she led with those men. What she really wanted to think about now was a pair of grey-green eyes.

  A few minutes later, the driver stopped the carriage, and Taylor and her maid climbed in. With the exception of her father looking disdainfully down his nose and Clay shifting his position so that his knees wouldn’t brush against hers, nothing else was said. Taylor looked out the window, wishing for one more glimpse of their rescuer, but he was long gone.

  “Looking for the duke?” Clay asked.

  Duke? Taylor tried to think of the dukes she’d met in her life. Not one had been like him. And he’d come to their aid. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. A duke had helped them while an earl and a viscount stood by and did nothing. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the feel of his powerful arms around her.

  “The man was a duke?” she asked finally.

  “Franz Aurech, Duke of Bamberg.” Her father was thumbing a card.

  “Bamberg,” her brother clarified. “In Bavaria.”

  The accent. Liebling. It all made sense. “He left his card? Are you going to see him again?”

  “Indeed,” Lord Lindsay replied curtly, tucking the card into his waistcoat pocket. “He mentioned that he traveled here from the continent to find a suitable wife. I offered you to him. And as strange as it seems, he might be interested.”

  Chapter 2

  How to Ditch A Duke

  – Step 2 –

  Maintain a Healthy Distance

  * * *

  The Abbey Hospital

  Western Aberdeen, the Scottish Highlands

  Three Months Later

  No warning. No knock. The door into Taylor’s rooms flew open, and in marched Lady Millie Pennington McKendry, preceded by her exceptionally large, round belly. True, she was nine months pregnant, but Taylor had never been in the company of an expectant woman so close to giving birth.

  And her dearest friend was not happy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Millie shut the door and leaned her back against it. “You didn’t come here to keep my company until this bairn is born. You came north to run away.”

  The stung look in her eyes caused Taylor to shrivel a little with guilt. It was true that she’d traveled to this hospital tucked away in the Highlands in order to escape. It seemed the perfect place. A private asylum where Millie’s husband treated patients suffering from head injuries and mental disorders. She’d said nothing because she wanted to spare her friend some of the chaos that her life had become. Her silence had clearly been for nothing, however. Somehow, Millie knew.

  “You’ve said not one word about it. A whole month and not one syllable about a suitor.” Millie pressed a hand to her lower back as she waddled away from the door. “And not simply a suitor. A man who’s made his intentions known to you.”

  “I did come here to be with you…for the most part.” Taylor moved a chair and helped her friend sit down. “But if I wasn’t bubbling over with news, it’s because there’s nothing to bubble about. And besides, I didn’t see any point in mentioning my problem because I’m hoping it will disappear on its own while I’m…well, away.”

  “What problem?” Millie breathed deeply and pressed the side of her belly.

  “The problem with my father and this proposal. Yes, I have a suitor, but I want him to disappear.”

  “Taylor, a real suitor doesn’t simply disappear.”

  Lord knows, Taylor was aware of that.

  “And people are saying you’re engaged.”

  “Falsehoods, I swear it. A real engagement involves a proposal of marriage and an acceptance. It is a verbal agreement between a man and a woman. Not a father pressuring someone to take his unsightly harpy of a daughter off his hands.”

  “You are neither of those things. You make me so angry when you talk about yourself like that.”

  “Be angry all you want, but I need you to support me in this.”

  Millie sat quietly for a moment. “I know almost nothing of the details, but from what I understand, the man is a duke. How can the earl influence someone of that rank?”

  “The man stepped into a trap.” Taylor wrapped her arms around her waist, recalling the most embarrassing moment of her life. “The duke came upon us after a carriage accident and, out of sheer kindness, stopped to help. Naturally, my father thought it was the perfect time to throw me at him. I believe he tried to sweeten the deal with pair of goats.”

  Millie smiled. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I wish I were. I’m all too familiar with his methods. Influence, plead, beg, promise, lie, embellish. Stay after him like a hound on the scent of a fox. Whatever he had to do, he did over the weeks that followed…and somehow managed to succeed.”

  It was only when they’d returned to Edinburgh that she’d been able to find out more information about the duke.

  “Franz Aurech, the Duke of Bamberg, is financially strapped. His estates are on the verge of collapse.”

  “I see.” Millie paused, her brow drawing together. “And he’s looking for a rich wife?”

  “An heiress,” Taylor answered. “His Grace is looking for a woman with substantial wealth. And from what I gather, the moment he arrived and his intentions were known, he had invitations to every salon and assembly from London to Bath to Edinburgh. The social circles are still abuzz with a list of prospects.”

  “But I doubt there’s any woman richer than you.”

  Taylor cringed to think what exactly her father had revealed to this total stranger.

  “Why would the earl want this?” Millie asked. “You and I both know that without you handling the business of the family estates, Lord Lindsay and your brother would be…well, ruined.”

  It was true. They’d be lost. While Taylor was growing up, her mother had controlled the finances of the family. And when she’d grown ill, Taylor had taken over her role. She had an aptitude for it. She enjoyed the manipulation of funds and stocks, as well as the budgeting of estate revenues. Her father, who had absolutely no interest in such responsibilities, had been off somewhere serving in some ceremonial capacity during the war when her mother passed away. Since then, under Taylor’s management, the family’s fortunes had grown, and Millie was correct that the two men would squander their fortunes in no time without her.

  “I imagine he expects that I’ll somehow continue to do from a distance the same thing I’ve been doing. But more important, having a duke in the family tree is a prize beyond his wildest dreams. Never mind that it settles the question of his daughter’s future,” she explained. “I believe in his own twisted way, he worries about me. My fortune is independent of his. He’s said outright that it’s only matter of time before some no-good, penniless swindler will seduce me and steal all my money.”

  “He doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

  Wealth brought attention. But Taylor was invulnerable to the flirtations of fine-looking men. At least, she thought she was, until she met Bamberg. That chest. That accent. “You’re correct. He doesn’t.”

  “What else do you know about the duke? Other than his name and that he’s looking for a rich wife?”

  “To be honest, he’s quite accomplished. He’s an explorer. A world traveler. I’ve been trying to learn what I could, aside from the gossip, and there’s actually quite a bit of
information out there. Lord Bamberg is highly celebrated in academic circles. After the war, he partnered with Prince Maximilian of Wied-Neuwied in an expedition into the jungles of Brazil. He’s even published journals on the ethnography of people living in the Amazon.”

  “I’m surprised. I was half expecting you to tell me he was a ne’er-do-well, living a dissipated existence in gaming hells all over Europe.”

  “Nay, that would be my brother, as you know.” She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. She couldn’t allow her memory of her first meeting with the duke to influence her judgment. “Bamberg is well-respected as an explorer and a scholar. But his accomplishments have come at a price. I imagine his absence and neglect might be the cause of the dire situation of his estates in Bavaria.”

  Millie frowned. “And that, of course, would all be remedied as soon as he finds a rich wife.”

  “Apparently.”

  Her friend asked for a glass of water, and Taylor brought it for her.

  She still didn’t know how it was that Millie had found out about Bamberg. Her friend was not a person with any interest in or access to society natter. She doubted that any of the city gossip rags were delivered to the Abbey.

  “Tell me, what is he like as a person?” Millie asked, handing back the empty glass.

  “I don’t really know.”

  Millie’s eyes rounded, and a smile tugged at a corner of her lips. “You mean, you haven’t spent any time in his company?”

  Taylor was suddenly interested in the pattern of the rug at her feet.

  “I would have thought this strong opinion of yours, this outright rejection of the man, would be based on personal observation, along with what you’ve learned. Are you telling me it’s not?”

  Taylor slipped a hand into the pocket of her dress, touching his handkerchief. Foolishly, she considered it a gift. A keepsake of the man that she dreamed of at night and ran away from by day.