Undressed to Impress the Duke : A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Scarlett Osborne

  Eleanor knelt before Lady Julia, who sat in an armchair. She slipped one foot into a silk stocking, and then eased it upward, over her knee. Then, she did the other one. Lady Julia stood up, dressed in petticoats and stockings. Eleanor brought her corset, easing it on, then doing up the laces.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “It must be Mother,” Lady Julia said.

  Eleanor went to open the door, allowing Lady Whitecier inside. She curtsied.

  “Well?” Lady Whitecier asked, entering in a cloud of swishing silk and rose-scented perfume. “What did the Dowager Duchess say to you?” She was resplendent in yellow. “I saw the two of you as you walked through the gardens from my bed chamber window.”

  Lady Julia beamed. Eleanor moved to finish the laces on her corset. “She said that she believes I’m the perfect lady to follow her as Duchess of Durnsott.”

  Lady Whitecier gasped. “I had hoped that she would,” she murmured, clasping her hands in front of her as she sat down in a chair.

  Eleanor tied a bow in the corset strings, then walked across the room to bring Lady Julia’s pale-pink silk dress over. When she turned, she saw that Lady Julia was positively glowing. She knew then that whatever fancy she’d felt for the Duke she needed to forget entirely, or risk hurting Lady Julia.

  “Mother,” Lady Julia said. Her mother smiled at her.

  “What is it, My Darling?”

  “I was horribly nervous,” she said. “But I think that it will work out.” Eleanor helped to put the gown over her head, then did up the row of buttons in the back. She’d done Lady Julia’s hair already. She merely had to add the two white roses from the Dowager Duchess, tucking them into Lady Julia’s hair.

  “Then I’m sure it will,” Lady Whitecier replied kindly. “Support from the Dowager Duchess will certainly work in your favor, when the Duke begins to seriously think about this marriage.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Indeed,” she replied. “The Dowager Duchess of Durnsott is a force of her own. She practically led the ton while her husband was alive.” She stood, cupping her daughter’s cheek in her hand. “And you will be her successor. Just think of all that you will accomplish, My Child.”

  Eleanor saw Lady Julia pale a little before she smiled. Her mother grinned, as she smoothed a hand over her hair. “The roses are becoming. Let’s go down to dinner, shall we?” Lady Whitecier suggested.

  “Thank you, Eleanor,” Lady Julia whispered, pressing both of her hands in her own.

  “Of course, My Lady,” Eleanor replied, curtsying. As soon as the door closed after the two ladies, she let out a deep breath.

  Aaron was standing off to the side, watching all of his guests interact. His mind was full, and he was still feeling anxious, overheated. He took a sip of brandy, letting his eyes travel the room. They settled on his step-mother, who was seated on the dark-red brocade settee.

  He could tell by the sour look on Louisa’s face that she was displeased with Jack. He knew that one of her servants had likely filled her in on his little outing that day to the village pub.

  Aaron felt nothing but sympathy for Jack. No doubt he was chafing at his mother’s constant need to control him. He decided to help his brother out. Perhaps convince Louisa not to come down so hard on him. He was, after all, a gentleman of eight-and-ten—it was past time for this talk. He walked over to where she stood, sipping a glass of pinot grigio.

  Aaron followed her gaze, to where Jack was talking with Arthur, Lady Whitecier, and Lady Julia. They all seemed to be having a pleasant talk, with Jack at the center of it: he threw his head back and laughed.

  “Why do you stare at them so, Step-Mother?” Aaron asked in a low voice. She was clasping the diamond necklace in her hand. She was dressed in crimson silk, which pooled around her as she sat.

  “Who does he think he is?” she wondered, scrunching her nose. “He missed luncheon because he was at the village pub! A Duke’s son should never been seen at the village pub.”

  “He’s a grown gentleman,” Aaron said, recalling how he had been at Jack’s age, as well as the places he’d liked to frequent. “He can do as he pleases.”

  “You may do as you please,” she replied. “You are the Duke.”

  Aaron laughed. “That most certainly does not mean that I may not do as I please,” he replied. “More so than even you, Step-Mother.”

  She scoffed, then stood up, sipping her wine. She crossed the room, joining the others. Aaron remained where he was, watching as she joined them. The tone of her voice changed.

  What would I do, if I could do as I please?

  Aaron knew that, given the ability to do as he pleased, he would spend all his time in the stables. He wouldn’t give another thought to politics, or business. He would focus on the horses, becoming a gentleman farmer, through and through.

  Eleanor was immediately in his mind. Riding Iseult, the new Arabian mare. She would look very fine. Iseult was trained to take a side-saddle, though she was not for an inexperienced rider.

  Perhaps I can do as I please, he thought. It was a delicious thought. For he could never have Eleanor, not in the way he wanted. But he could do something which gave her pleasure.

  Lady Julia approached him. He stood up, bowing low. He was glad that she was coming to speak with him, for he had something he wanted to ask her. “My Lady,” he said. “For the next day of your visit, I had planned that all of us would go for a ride, and a picnic. But, now that I know your fear of horses—”

  “Do you have a governess cart, Your Grace?” she asked.

  “We do indeed.” It had been purchased for Louisa, though she used it infrequently. There was a pure white Connemara pony who had been bought specifically for the purpose of pulling it.

  “Then I shall ride in that,” she replied stoutly. “And we shall all still go.”

  “Very good,” he said, impressed that she already had a solution to her fears. He was used to Louisa, who would often bemoan her problems, complaining about them until someone sorted them out for her.

  “I love going on outings,” Lady Julia explained. “My family has a pony cart, and Eleanor rides beside me.”

  “Then that is exactly what we shall do,” he said, smiling at her.

  After Eleanor had eaten her dinner, she slipped out of the house, walking for the stables. They were painted white, with dark-green siding. She hoped that the groom would be around at this hour. Lady Julia had assured her that she wouldn’t be needed until late that night, to help her undress for bed.

  When she walked inside, she found that it was empty. She moved quietly, peering about. It smelled of fresh hay, and of horse, which for a person who loved them, is a very good smell indeed. She heard the sound of boots, and turned to find a man, dressed neatly in breeches and a white shirt and a dark vest.

  “Good evening,” she said, curtsying to him. He was a solid man, with chestnut hair that was shot through with silver. He had an easy smile.

  “You must be Eleanor,” he said.

  “I am,” she replied, surprised to find that he knew her name.

  “I’m Martin. Martin Whilby. His Grace said that you’d be stopping in,” he murmured. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I worried that he would either forget, or wouldn’t have the chance to tell you,” she admitted.

  “Not His Grace,” Martin replied. “He’s not one to forget, or to put things off, for that matter.”

  They both turned when someone cleared his throat. Eleanor saw that it was the unpleasant male servant. He was dressed in livery—a black jacket, with dark pants, and shiny black shoes. He had on a stiff white shirt.

  “I’ll need a horse,” he ordered. “Tomorrow at nine.”

  “As you please,” Martin replied courteously.

  “Thank you, Whilby.”

  Eleanor and the groom both watched as he stalked off, his shoes crunching in the gravel of the drive.

  “Have you met him?” the groom asked in a whisp
er. Eleanor nodded grimly.

  “He’s a gossiper. Tried to get me to talk about Lady Julia.”

  “Oh, he’s the Dowager Duchess’ man through and through,” he warned her. “Don’t gossip about your lady in front of him. He’ll tell the Dowager Duchess every word that you say. Come this way. Did his Lordship show you Tristan and Iseult?”

  Eleanor shook her head, following when he began to walk briskly along the long row of stalls. Her stomach did a queasy flip.

  “Is there…something I should be concerned about?” she asked him.

  “No,” he said, laughing. “That’s the way of things in these sorts of houses. It’s politics and gossip all around. Her Grace likes to know everything that’s going on all over the grounds. I suppose it helps her run things.”

  “Isn’t the Duke the one who runs them?” Eleanor wondered.

  “He does. His step-mother does like to have her way, though.”

  “Anyone else I should be careful of?” Eleanor was curious to know. Things were not this way at Clayriver Manor. Lady Whitecier, though very much in charge of the household, did not have any servants that she used to deliver gossip.

  “Most everyone else is very kind here,” he remarked. “The Duke—he’s very good with horses. I’m often hard-pressed to let him care for any of them.” This, Eleanor knew, was very high praise.

  Martin stopped walking just outside of the white wooden fence around a pasture. Inside, there were two sleek black horses. Eleanor had never seen their like in all her life. They seemed more delicate than any she’d seen—almost perfectly formed.

  “Tristan and Iseult,” Martin announced.

  “They are both very beautiful,” she gasped. She had never seen such gorgeous creatures in her life, though Lord and Lady Whitecier owned some very impressive thoroughbred horses.

  “Indeed. They come all of the way from Egypt, these two. They’re bred for endurance,” he explained. “Particularly in desert climates.”

  “What does His Grace plan to do with two desert horses in England?” she wondered. After all, England was mostly cold and damp.

  “Breed them,” he replied. “They’ll be well-suited to long distance riding. They’re pretty to look at. No one has done it so far.”

  As Eleanor looked at them, they grazed in the fields. “Tristan and Iseult,” she murmured. “I’m surprised that His Grace had such a romantic story in mind.”

  Martin laughed. “I imagine he’s planning to name all in their bloodline after Irish mythology.”

  “Interesting,” Eleanor murmured, thinking of all of the possible names. Ceridwen, Morrigan, Lugh, Aengus. There were plenty of curious ones.

  “Come,” Martin said. “There’s lots more to see.”

  Chapter 8

  Aaron knew that he was dreaming. All of the edges of the world seemed blurred, glowing with light, even as the rain fell all around him. He moved through the trees, wondering where he was. All of the world was green, and new. When he came out of them, he found that he was just by the lake.

  The sun shone on the water, as it peered out through the clouds, lighting up the amber highlights in her hair.

  She stood there, by the edge of the pond, like a nymph. She was dressed all in white, her long hair loose over her shoulders. She seemed almost to float in the mist, even as Eleanor turned to face him.

  “How came you here?” she asked. Through the thin, damp fabric of her dress, he could see much. He allowed his eyes to feast on the sight of her. His hunger for her, which he had kept hidden, was unmasked.

  “I was looking for you,” he replied, moving toward her, until he was close enough to reach out and touch her.

  “What for, Your Grace?” she asked. There was such innocence in those brown eyes of hers.

  He dared to step forward, reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand. He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. He felt arousal, pooling in his stomach. He desired her greatly, though in his waking life he could never just reach out for her.

  She stepped out of the water. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to hers. Her lips parted for his tongue, and he dipped it into her mouth. She moaned softly against his lips.

  His hands went to her shoulders, pushing down the filmy dress that she wore. He stopped when she gasped, noticing that her eyes were focused on someone who stood behind him. When he turned, he saw that someone was watching them in the woods.

  Aaron awoke, sitting bolt upright. He groaned, covering his face with both of his hands.

  A maid!

  He was horrified by his own psyche, which appeared to be betraying him. His whole body still felt like it was alive with desire, wracked by his need for her.

  He got up, walking over to the window and peering out over the moonlit grounds. But it made sense, after all. He was drawn to her goodness. He wished that he could view the world like she did. He wished that he could believe in love, just like she did.

  I don’t deserve her.

  Lady Julia was seated at breakfast with the gentlemen. Both the Dowager Duchess and Lady Whitecier took their breakfast in bed. However, as an unmarried lady, Julia was to eat at the table. She glanced over at Eleanor, who was seated by the door. She smiled back at Julia.

  How I wish Eleanor could sit at the table! She glanced around at all of the gentlemen—they were all so silent that morning.

  The Duke seemed exhausted, dark circles underneath his eyes. Lord Jack was quiet, as well. She didn’t know what to make of it. Both gentlemen were eating silently. Lord Mallen was studying them both curiously. He smiled at Julia, and gave her a wink. Eleanor sat in a chair in the corner, acting as chaperone.

  “Why is everyone so quiet this morning?” Lord Mallen wondered. “Are we not to have a fine day, out riding?”

  “I feel as though I barely slept,” His Grace said, taking a bite of toast.

  “Would you prefer that we wait until tomorrow to go on our outing?” Lady Julia suggested. After all, the Duke did seem tired.

  He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “That is very kind of you, My Lady,” he replied. “But I assure you, I am quite well enough to go out for a ride in the countryside. As a matter-of-fact, it will do me good.”

  “If that’s settled,” Lord Mallen said, “then I shall go and make ready. I wanted to write a letter before we headed out.”

  “I shall take my leave as well,” Lord Ayles announced, though he did not say where he was going.

  “We shall leave at ten of the clock,” His Grace told them, taking a sip of his tea. They left, and Lady Julia was glad to have a moment to speak to His Grace, as alone as they could.

  He glanced over at her, the corners of his lips curving upward. Julia saw that this was an unexpected opportunity. She felt nervous, but emboldened, after her talk with the Dowager Duchess the day before.

  “I have not had a chance to speak with you,” she said.

  “Of what, My Lady?” he asked, his piercing-blue eyes taking her in. A strand of his golden-brown hair had fallen out of his ponytail, falling against his cheek. This was the gentleman who would be her husband—the gentleman with whom she would share her life and her body.

  Why then, do I feel nothing?

  “We have not yet spoken of the very thing that I am here for,” she replied. “I feel as though I’ve spoken with the Dowager Duchess of it, but not with you.”

  “What is it that you want in life, My Lady?” he asked, though it was with gentle curiosity. “Is it…” he waved his hand, “a fine house, a powerful title?”

  “I want a happy life,” she replied. “The house, the title…it’s all very fine, but I want a kind husband, who cares for me. My parents have that. They are not passionate about each other. But they do care for one another, very much. I want that.”

  He smiled. “We all want that, I believe.”

  “Do you think that you could, in time, care for me?” she asked. “If you do not, Your Grace, then speak now. For I will call you everythi
ng that is honorable, if you do.”

  “Are you asking if I could fall in love with you?” he asked. “For I do not believe in love. It is a fanciful myth, perpetuated by poets.”

  “No,” she replied, “just that you could care for me.”

  His Grace was silent, his eyes studying her face. She returned his gaze with confidence. “I think that, with time, I could,” he replied. “We do seem a good match, do we not?”