Tempting The Ruined Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  His mother had accepted an invitation to a ton event on his behalf, she was not very subtle in her efforts to get him on the marriage mart. He accepted the invitation to the Venetian breakfast because he did not want to upset her. Also, it was in the neighboring county of Dunbarton and not in London. It was no skin off his nose if he turned up and let people fawn over him. He made sure that the Earl of Shearcaster was going too. His friend enjoyed these occasions and always made sure to divert attention off Jeremy – for which the Duke was grateful.

  One of the benefits of being above the average height was the ability to scan a room quickly and effectively. The fact that his quarry had brilliant, champagne-blonde hair would make it that much easier to spot him. A cursory glance around the gathering of people in the drawing-room told him that Daniel hadn’t come in yet, however, and he relaxed a little. He would be here soon.

  He made his way to the side of the drawing room with that thought in mind, it would give him the most advantageous view of the entrance and allow him to quickly join his friend once he arrived. Even with the limited number of eligible bachelors on the guest list, there was still a small army of marriage-minded gentlemen. Hopefully, it would be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Now if Daniel would only appear, that would be perfect.

  The corollary to those bachelors was a sea of young ladies wrapped in pastel morning gowns, most of them as dull as the colors they wore, and their mothers, as shrewd as their daughters were simple. An unfortunate side effect of being the newest attraction at this particular ton entertainment was that each of those mothers and daughters felt it necessary to speak with him in the hopes that he might take an interest.

  When pigs flew.

  “Your Grace...”

  Jeremy turned around and came face to face with Lady Dorothea Kester. He knew her to be one of the Dowager’s friends – although that might be stretching the term – and a few years older than his mother.

  “Lady Dorothea.” He took her hand and bowed over it, observing the niceties he hated so much. “Charmed.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter,” Dorothea said, roughly pushing a young lady forward.

  No, and I have no interest to.

  “I’m afraid you’re right; I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “Georgiana, this is the Duke of Munboro. Your Grace, my daughter, Georgiana.”

  The lady in front of him had been shoved into an ill-fitting pink gown, her hair was done up with curls poking out every which way. He supposed it was meant to look stylish, but he thought she just looked ridiculous.

  Nothing like the painter’s daughter. He shook his head slightly, wondering why he should think of her now.

  She sank into a curtsy, and he gave a bow as courtesy dictated. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Georgiana.”

  “Oh, the pleasure's all mine,” she gushed. Her mother elbowed her covertly. “I mean, thank you, Your Grace.”

  And so it went for what seemed like an eternity. As soon as he stepped away from one group, another took their place. He managed to avoid agreeing to dance with any of the insipid young ladies that were presented to him but knew that he’d likely not escape that fate all night. He breathed a sigh of relief when the crowd of eligible ladies dried up and he was left alone.

  For the moment.

  When Daniel finally made his appearance, Jeremy was in a conversation with Dudley Penfield, Viscount Kingston just lately arrived from the island of Jamaica. He was filling Jeremy in on the state of piracy on the seas. When the other gentleman saw the object of Jeremy’s scrutiny, Dudley turned to him with a smile. “Oh I say, I didn’t know you knew the Earl of Shearcaster. Would you mind providing an introduction?”

  Jeremy smiled. “Of course. Follow me.”

  Dudley clapped him on the arm with a knowing grin. “I understand he’s quite the rake. Hope he’s not averse to sharing?”

  Jeremy ignored the words. What Shearcaster got up to in his own time was none of Jeremy’s business. He set out across the floor toward his friend – Dudley on his heel - while doing his best not to appear rushed. He hoped no one tried to stop him before he reached Daniel. He was already all talked out.

  “Daniel,” he said cordially, holding his hand out to him. Daniel shook his hand with vigor, a smile on his face, eyes already scanning the room.

  “Sorry, I’m late old boy. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

  Daniel knew him too well. Knew that he would be looking to hide behind his friend’s exuberance. People were watching them; he knew that his every move was of great interest, and he did his best to keep the relief he felt out of his gaze. He guessed from his flushed cheeks and wide eyes that he’d done a poor job. He turned toward Dudley.

  “Daniel, let me introduce you to Viscount Kingston, late of the colony of Jamaica. He was just telling me how it goes on the high seas.”

  Daniel shuddered visibly. “You’re a braver gentleman than I’ll ever be,” he said, giving the gentleman a slight nod. Jeremy knew just how much Daniel hated the sea, not least because of the scars it had left on Jeremy. No amount of explanation would convince him that it was not the sea per se that was to blame.

  “If you hadn’t been at sea, you would not have a mark on you,” he would say before rapidly changing the subject. Daniel did not even like to talk about the sea. Dudley fidgeted uncomfortably at his side.

  “Dudley thought you might oblige him by agreeing to debauch with him,” Jeremy remarked idly, with an impish grin. “I think he means to find himself a wife.”

  Dudley’s eyes widened and he stammered a bit. “I-I thought t-that…,” he said almost defensively, softening when he saw no censure in either of their eyes. Daniel clapped him on the shoulder, “Cheerio, old gentleman. I should be glad to show you all my tricks. Jeremy here insists on being a boring fellow who won’t so much as join me in some gambling.”

  Daniel sent him a reproving glance which Jeremy met with equanimity.

  “I’ve had my fill of adventurous living, I just want to sit in a corner and perhaps read a book,” Jeremy told him, facetiously.

  Daniel’s answer was a disbelieving grin. He caught sight of some other young ladies looking at them speculatively and pointed them out discreetly to Daniel. “I see some prey just praying for your attention,” he murmured.

  Dudley and Daniel both turned and it was all Jeremy could do not to cover his eyes in embarrassment. “Have either of you ever heard of the phrase ‘discretion’?” he asked in exasperation.

  Daniel laughed not bothering to look back at Jeremy. “Didn’t you hear? Discretion went out of fashion while you were at sea.” He clapped Dudley on the back, “Come along my friend. Let us see what we can do with these delectable debutantes.”

  He walked off, Dudley trailing after him. Jeremy could see that the ladies were already coloring in anticipation although a few still cast hopeful glances in his direction.

  He moved toward the terrace doors, suddenly desperate for some air. When he looked up and met Daniel’s eye, he inclined his head to indicate he was going outside and his friend gave him a tiny nod, indicating that he understood. He nodded back.

  He took a deep breath and began to walk determinedly toward the door, pushing aside the curtain and stepping out onto the terrace. He closed his eyes, breathing in the clean air and wished to be anywhere but here.

  The tinkling sound of merry laughter had him opening his eyes and looking below where two figures were just walking out of the wood, engaged in animated conversation. Their high, excited, feminine voices carried up to him although he could not hear what they said. They walked toward the kitchens, a large basket of flowers in the hand of the redhead. Suddenly the dark-haired one turned her head and he gasped.

  What is she doing here?

  Chapter 5

  Impromptu

  Louisa was a great admirer of her friend Betty Rollins. She was everything Louisa wanted to be. She was a flower seller who had managed to open her own s
hop. She sold flowers arranged cleverly to the nobility when they had functions or even just to decorate their homes. She managed to make enough to support herself and her aged mother.

  Despite his best efforts, Louisa knew that her father was much more gravely ill than he said. Having the example of Betty before her, she dreamed of indulging in commerce too; of earning enough of a living to take care of her father.

  She had dropped in on Betty at her shop just as she was leaving to deliver some flowers.

  “You could come with me, I do not mind. You can be my assistant should the lady ask.”

  Louisa laughed. “Very well, I shall come with you and watch how you conduct your transactions. Perhaps one day, I shall have the opportunity to do the same.”

  Betty’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, you could paint my flower arrangements! And then we could sell the flowers and the accompanying painting. We could start a new fashion!” she said excitedly.

  Louisa gave a rueful laugh. “You have the best ideas, Betty. My father should have an apoplexy if he heard you though.”

  “Then we shall present him with a fait accompli.”

  Louisa linked her arm through that of her friend as they walked.

  “That would indeed be lovely,” she sighed imagining how it would go. Betty would make an arrangement and then Louisa would paint it, with a suitable backdrop – perhaps the sky or a pair of hands holding the flowers!

  They would then present it to the lord or lady and get paid for their work. She would go home and present the money to her father. He would see that he did not need to marry her off or worry about her future and finally confide in her that his hands were not what they used to be. They would make a plan for her to sell more paintings and her father would feel better for not having the pressure of earning their daily bread.

  She sighed again. It’s a good dream, but he would never agree.

  “Fie! Why the long face, Louisa?” Betty’s voice brought her out of her melancholy thoughts, “Tis a happy occasion. We are going to sell flowers to the Lady Dorothea Kester and with the money I get I shall buy you a pretty scarf to brighten your blue eyes, won’t you like that?”

  “Oh, Betty…you don’t have to do that.” Louisa shook her head admonishingly at her best friend.

  “I want to.”

  They walked to Kester Hall through the forest that stretched over the back of the property, right to an artificial lake. It was an enjoyable walk, though a long one and eventually they emerged from the forest to the sound of music emanating from the open bay windows of the hall.

  “Mmm, I feel the need to dance,” Betty said.

  Louisa laughed. “What? You cannot do that; somebody might see you.”

  “Why do they put music on, if they do not expect everybody to dance?” Betty asked.

  Louisa shrugged, turning her head to grin at her friend. “There are people and then there are people. And I do assure you that the latter are quite busy dancing.”

  They walked around the house, avoiding the bay windows so the revelers would not see them. Skirting the corner of the hall, they came upon the kitchen door and knocked.

  A harried housekeeper opened the door and Betty held out the basket artfully arranged with roses, hydrangeas, tulips, and freesias. “I brought the flowers.”

  The woman frowned. “You’re very late.”

  Betty’s face fell quite theatrically. “I’m sorry. I was told to have them ready for three.”

  The woman glanced inside and then sighed. She gestured for them to enter. “Very well, put them on the table. I shall fetch the butler to pay you.”

  “Thank you,” Betty said as they stepped into the bustling kitchen. They made sure to stay out of the way of bustling servants, watching fascinated as they prepared various dishes in a never-ending stream that were shipped out on trays by servers, to the party goers in the drawing room.

  “Seems like quite the party,” Betty murmured to her.

  Louisa nodded.

  “Doesn’t it make you want to have a quick peek at what’s happening?”

  Louisa slowly shook her head, giving Betty a bland disbelieving glance. Even if they managed to sneak past the servants, there was no way they could mingle among the guests without being noticed. Their gowns were not exactly designed for parties.

  “Oh come on, Louisa! Live a little.”

  Louisa merely snorted in answer, just in time for the butler to come bustling in very self-importantly. He examined the flower arrangement and deemed it satisfactory. He turned to the woman that had opened the door for them.

  “Hortense, where shall we put the flowers?”

  Hortense shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the dilemma.

  “Oh, my friend is a renowned painter. I’m sure if you allow us to see the drawing room, she would be able to determine the very best place for the flowers.”

  The butler frowned. “There is a Venetian breakfast going on in the drawing room as we speak.”

  “We shall be very discreet,” Betty promised hopefully, much to Louisa’s horror.

  This was such a stupid idea. Louisa lightly bit her lip, feeling anxious and out of place. She did not like to brush shoulders with the nobility outside the confines of her profession. They tended to be…unkind. She made sure her brown hair was tucked securely in her cap as Betty got her way. The girl could coax the stars from the sky given sufficient motivation.

  Why, oh why did I allow my best friend to talk me into this? But Betty could be so convincing.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach without rest, making her almost want to punch herself to snap out of it. This wasn’t the same as entering the houses of nobility to paint them. She had never felt like such an interloper even as she thrilled at the chance to sneak in and spy on these people. Hardly anyone saw the naughty side of her, really but Betty definitely knew how to bring it out.

  She preferred it that way. That side of her was flighty and reckless which left her open to situations she might not otherwise have gotten herself into. Mostly when the mood hit her, she might walk the market with one of her sunrises and see if anyone might buy it. Just to see if her talent was really as good as her father said it was. So far, she had not yet returned home with a painting she meant to sell. She felt guilty at times, for lying to her father, but he was so adamant that she was to be protected that it was hard to get him to listen.

  Betty had her usual jaunty smile as she stood in a serviceable frock of robin’s egg blue and decorated with tiny carnations, next to Louisa. The butler placed the basket on her arm, as well as the pouch containing her payment, and they were ready to go. Betty bent her arm in an offer of an escort for her. Louisa looped her arm with that of her best friend.

  Louisa, in one of her favorite morning gowns, a creamy muslin with blue lace decorating the cleavage, stayed at her side, arm linked with her as they approached the drawing room. The room was already lit up even if it was not yet dark. The viscountess was seated at the head of the table as the host, and the party was in full swing. It was easy to slip in unnoticed.

  The two friends slipped in through the kitchen entrance and immediately lost themselves in a sea of other guests; all the lords and ladies from nearby towns were in attendance. The butler stood behind them and gave them a nod as they wove through the guests, trying to remain low key and discreet. The basket of flowers would have been displayed to best advantage on the table but that was currently laden with trays of food and so the next best place was a plinth by the window.

  The drawing room was teeming with the hum of many voices talking at once amid the gentle notes of soft music from a lone performer, accompanied by the piano. There was a dance floor where nobles danced with one another as other guests stood on the sidelines and chatted with smiles. Betty and Louisa fixed social smiles on their faces and kept walking. Suddenly from the balcony, a very familiar figure stepped back into the room.

  Louisa sighed, “I should have known he would be here. He is after all the shiniest new to
y in the basket.”

  "Huh?" Betty asked absentmindedly, her eyes on an approaching serving girl. Her eyes brightened with mischief as she took two glasses of hot honeyed rum off the tray. The serving girl barely noticed them as she tried not to drop the tray or trip as she made her rounds with shaky hands. Perhaps she was new.

  Betty smiled, handing one glass to Louisa, "Just relax and see what happens." She sipped her drink and walked on, swinging her basket of flowers as she headed toward the plinth on which she would put them.