Tempting The Ruined Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  Her heart was beating triple time in uneven sequence and she felt as if she might faint. She did not know what had gotten into her earlier as she spoke with the Duke.

  Or maybe she did.

  Perhaps it was his mother’s reaction to the drawing of her with a butterfly on her shoulder.

  “It’s such a pity you’re a woman,” she had said, “you really are very talented. If you were a man, I should ask my son to sponsor you at once.”

  Her heart had leapt at such a show of confidence. And then her father had laughed.

  “Oh no, Louisa does not want that. She will be married soon, I hope.”

  Her father’s laughter had cracked something in her that she had not even been aware was present. How dare he dismiss her ambitions so easily? He, of all people, should know better than that.

  The Dowager Duchess had immediately joined him in laughter, going so far as to apologize for her ‘silliness’. They had then launched into a discussion of the marriage prospects for their children and what their hopes were for a daughter and son in-law. Louisa had slowed her steps, not wanting to be privy to any more of that conversation, something in her chest burning.

  And then Jeremy had come, and he was apologizing for not treating her like a delicate little flower who would one day decorate someone’s mantle…and it was just too much.

  Maybe Betty will take me in and allow me to hang my pictures for sale in her shop. She thought bleakly even as she knew it was futile to think that way.

  She could not leave her father alone, no matter how she realized that their world view differed. Indeed, she had not known that she felt so strongly about her independence until her father had said that she would marry soon. She assumed that he was talking about Mr. Jones and really, she wanted to slap herself on the head for not realizing what that meeting had been about.

  Apparently she hadn’t made too much of a muddle of it, since he was allegedly still interested in her.

  I mean, he knows I paint and yet did not utter a single word to dissuade it. Perhaps he would let me…Louisa recoiled at the thought of a virtual stranger giving her permission to continue to do something that had been a part of her since her earliest memories.

  She quickened her pace, as if she might outrun her thoughts if she just went fast enough. Soon she was back in the village and walking along the cobbled streets in search of Betty. It was heading toward evening which meant she would be out on the street, calling out her wares. Louisa knew her schedule well by now.

  She walked slowly, searching for her friend and caught sight of her selling roses to a young man dressed in what could be described as his Sunday best.

  Oh, another man going courting...she noted the acerbic nature of her thought as she came up beside her friend with a smile.

  “Surprise!”

  Betty turned to her, face lighting up with delight. “Louisa, my friend! Where have you been? I looked for you at the fair and did not see you.”

  “It’s funny you should mention the fair…” Louisa grimaced.

  Betty’s face became solemn, “What’s happened?”

  “Come, let us finish selling your flowers and then go have some tea,” she said looking around Betty in order to see how many bunches were left.

  “Oh, that was my last one,” Betty said, “We can go now.”

  “Oh, good. So business is good?” she asked as they looped arms and began strolling down the street to Betty’s house.

  “Well, business at the fair was excellent, I sold almost my entire stock except for a few which I have gotten rid of today. Tomorrow it’s down to the market in search of more.”

  “How I do envy you,” the words caught around the lump in Louisa’s throat.

  “Envy me? Why ever would you do that?”

  Louisa shrugged, “I just wish I could paint all day and sell my paintings for a living and not have to worry about anything like a husband or…”

  “Whoa there, what has happened? What is this about a husband?”

  “My father wants to marry me off. And he thinks that after my wedding I shall magically stop wanting to paint.”

  “Mmm.” Betty looked thoughtful.

  “What is that look about?” Louisa asked sharply.

  It was Betty’s turn to shrug. “Even if he married you off, I’m sure he would give you a say as to choice of husband. And then you can choose someone who would not try to stifle you.”

  Louisa laughed bitterly. “Of course, because I have a veritable line of suitors stretching off into the horizon, just waiting to marry me.”

  Betty squeezed her hand, ignoring her sarcasm. “And any of them would be lucky to have you.”

  Chapter 20

  Unforgettable

  Gilbert Notley did not want to be away from Munboro for too long. It did not bode well for his future if he was. He needed to convince the Duke that, for now, it would be better if they dealt with local properties first. He could go to London, which was only a day’s ride away on a fast horse and see the Munboro man of business but then he needed to return.

  He wondered how to convince the Duke of this without raising his ire. He had seen His Grace walking with his niece in the gardens just this afternoon which meant that whatever had gone on in the Duke’s study yesterday afternoon had not impacted negatively on their relationship.

  Perhaps he could get Louisa to speak with His Grace and change his mind. He knew he could not ask her outright. He had to be very subtle about it and make her think that it was her idea.

  He sighed, wondering why his life could not be straightforward and when he would not have to resort to all these machinations just to live. He decided that his best option was to go and see his brother first. Not to get his approval perhaps, but to try and extract from him the best way to approach his daughter.

  He really should have made more of an effort to socialize with the girl when she was younger. He shrugged, not seeing the benefit of indulging in regrets.

  Let bygones be bygones.

  He descended the servants’ stairs and slipped out, making his way to the dower house. He knocked on the door but there was no answer so he turned the knob, unsurprised to find the door unlocked. He had seen the girl venture out earlier which meant Americus was on his own. She would not lock him in, in case he needed to go out and could not work the lock with those shaky hands. A very solicitous daughter she was.

  “Americus?” he called but there was no answer. He stepped into the parlor and immediately caught sight of his brother, slumped over in his seat, his eyes closed. Gilbert frowned, walking closer to better examine his brother.

  “Americus?” he called in a louder voice but his brother did not stir.

  What could be the problem?

  Gilbert straightened to his full height, staring down at his brother, and biting his lip, wondering how to proceed. He reached out and placed his hand on his brother’s skin, finding it cold and clammy to the touch.

  “Mmm.” He ground his jaw as he thought. Reaching out again, he shook his brother hard, while calling his name but all that served to do was tip him over in the seat so his head was lolling at a most awkward angle.

  Gilbert sighed, straightening Americus up. He stood there in thought for a moment before hurrying out of the house toward the kitchens. “I need help!” he shouted to the cook, “Fetch me two footmen, please.”

  “Wha’ has happened?” the cook asked even as she gestured for the scullery maid to go on and get the footmen.

  “None of your business.” Gilbert said curtly as he waited for the footmen to appear. As soon as he caught sight of them as they entered the kitchen, he called them over, ignoring the cook’s disgruntled muttering.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He hurried off, the two footmen at his heels. When they got to the dower house, Americus was still slumped over, still unmoving.

  “What shall we do, Notley?” one of the footmen asked.

  “Pick him up, move him to his bed.”

&nbs
p; The two footmen gently lifted Americus from his chair and carried him slowly to the master bedroom. They laid him out on the bed, flat on his back and then looked to Gilbert for further instruction.

  “One of you needs to go to the village and fetch his daughter. She will know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said and both hurried out. Americus made a loud snoring sound which startled Gilbert and he peered at his brother, wondering if he was wakening. But there was no further movement. He took a pillow, lifted Americus head and stuffed the pillow under him so his head was raised a bit. He did not know if he was imagining it but he thought Americus looked more comfortable that way.

  He stood there, simply staring, at a loss for how to proceed. “What have you done to yourself, you stupid bugger?” he sighed, shaking his head with annoyance. He was not supposed to be the one looking after his brother. That was why the man had a daughter.

  He crossed to the armchair in the corner and sat down, staring out of the window.

  A tentative knock a few minutes later had him looking to the door in surprise. He assumed that Louisa would not knock and so wondered who was on the other side.

  He crossed over to the door and opened it, stiffening with surprise to see the Dowager Duchess on the other side.

  “My lady’s maid tells me that Mr. Notley has had some sort of episode?” she said stepping into the room. Gilbert hastily moved out of the way.

  “Your Grace. My er, brother seems to be taken ill that is true. I have sent for Miss Notley.”

  Her Grace glided over to the bed, standing over Americus and looking down at him thoughtfully. “Mmm. He had mentioned to me that he is under the care of a herb-woman. A Mrs. Marni. Perhaps you should have her fetched as well.”

  “Oh?” Gilbert was astonished that she knew so much about his brother, “I-I-I shall send a footman, shall I?”

  She nodded absently. “Yes, tell him to take a horse and hurry.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed and hurried out of the room, dashing to the kitchen to do as he was bid. He was reeling at the care that the Dowager Duchess was showing. She was a kind lady and solicitous of her servants’ welfare in a distant sort of way. But he had never known her to take so much interest as to know any of their medical histories. She had never asked him any questions regarding his health.

  It was disconcerting indeed.

  * * *

  Daniel suggested that they visit the local tavern, as he was not ready to tolerate Jeremy’s bad mood while sober.

  “I have plenty to drink here.” Jeremy protested.

  “Why drink in this musty old house when there are gin-soaked taverns filled with wenches to debauch with?”

  Jeremy laughed uncomfortably, not really wanting to debauch with any wenches or even socialize for that matter. “I am not in the mood, Shearcaster. Please can we just stay here tonight?”

  “No.” Daniel declared and got to his feet, dragging Jeremy along with him. They went to the stables and saddled horses, Daniel declaring that they should make a race of it.

  “That should cheer you right up.”

  Jeremy did not want to admit it but he did agree – if only to himself – that racing the horses might lift his mood.

  “Come on then Munboro, last one there buys all the tankards of ale I want!” Daniel declared before taking off at full canter. Jeremy uttered a cry of protest and followed him, urging his horse onward with fierce competitive zeal.

  They arrived at the tavern neck and neck, but Shearcaster with his usual devil-may-care attitude, flew off his horse before it came to a complete stop and declared himself the winner.

  Jeremy shook his head. “One of these days you shall break your neck with those capers.”

  “Ha! Don’t be a sore loser, Munboro. Now come and buy me my ale!”

  Jeremy alighted from his horse, tethered it and then went to do as Daniel bid him. He was surprised to find that he was smiling widely.

  In the tavern, the barkeep naturally served them the most unadulterated ale he had, and availed a bottle of whiskey for their drinking pleasure. Jeremy also ordered some pigeon pies to soak all the alcohol up, knowing that they would have to get back to the manor on horseback.

  The patrons kept a respectable distance until Daniel gestured for two wenches to approach. Jeremy stayed aloof, not wanting to give them any ideas. He wondered if Louisa might hear about this visit and if it would make her jealous. He smiled to himself at the thought.

  “What are you smilin’ about Your Grace?” one of the girls said, shaking her bosom in his face and batting her eyelashes at him.

  “Oh, just enjoying the company,” he replied politely enough and took a sip of his drink. He sat back, resolving to enjoy himself.

  She’s not even thinking about you, why are you thinking about her? A voice that sounded vaguely like Daniel’s echoed in his mind. He nodded in agreement. The voice was right. He had fairly decent alcohol in front of him, the company of a good friend and perfectly-willing girls. He did not need to be pining over a painter.

  * * *

  Louisa was beginning to think about getting back to Munboro soon. She knew that the kitchens would bring him something to eat but she did not like to leave him alone for too long. Furthermore, however much he tried to pretend, the fair had taken a lot out of him.

  A soft knock on the door startled them both. Louisa turned to Betty. “Were you expecting someone?”

  Betty shook her head even as she went to the door. “Who is it please?”

  “Footman from Munboro,” a deep baritone replied, “Come to collect Miss Notley.”

  Louisa shot to her feet at that, and came to the door just as Betty was unlatching it. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she grabbed the footman’s tassels even as he opened his mouth.

  “Your father’s been took bad.” He said.

  Louisa gasped, letting go of the man’s tassels to grab for her shawl. “Let’s go then.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Betty said at once.

  Louisa nodded distractedly and they followed the footman out, surprised to see that he had one of the Munboro coaches with him. “Get in,” he said.

  They hurried inside, exchanging fearful glances. “You don’t think he’s–” Louisa could not say the last word.

  “No. He isn’t. There would be no need to hurry if he was.” Betty squeezed her hand tight, trying to look reassuring. Louisa could see that her friend was just as scared as she was and that somehow reassured her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resolving not to worry until they had news. The coach came to a stop only a few minutes later and Louisa stuck her head out of the window to see what was happening.

  She saw that they had stopped in front of Mrs. Marni’s shop.

  “Why have you stopped?” she called to the footman.

  “We are to fetch Mrs. Marni too,” he said, even as he went to knock on her door.

  “Oh.” Louisa said mostly to herself as she sat back in her seat with relief. If they were fetching Mrs. Marni it meant that her father was still breathing. Also her father must be lucid enough to ask for her.

  Before long, Mrs. Marni came shuffling to the coach and Louisa moved to make space for her. “Good evening, Mrs. Marni.”

  The older woman peered at her from beneath her shawl. “Louisa Notley. They tell me yer father been took bad.”

  “Yes, they’ve told me the same. I was visiting with Betty.” She gestured to her friend who leaned forward and waved with a small smile.

  “Hmph. I told yer father not to exert ‘imself.”

  “And he hasn’t been,” Louisa hastened to reassure her, “…but he might have overdone it at the fair, yesterday.”

  “Hmph,” was all Mrs. Marni said to that, before turning to gaze out of the window, her wizened hands clutching her bag.

  * * *

  Mrs. Marni chased them all out while she worked, filling the room with foul smells as she used the fireplace to boil up a potion. She called fo
r various simples to be found in the manor herbarium and enlisted Betty’s help in converting them to life-giving draughts. Louisa paced in the parlor, in company with the Dowager Duchess and her uncle. For a fleeting, very fleeting moment, she wondered where the Duke was before she resumed worrying about her father.

  After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Marni emerged, wiping her hands on a clean rag. She sighed, regarding Louisa tiredly. “Yer father’s had an episode. He’s alrigh’ now, but he will have to rest, no moving, no walking, no going outside for fresh air, open a winder. Do ye hear me? Complete rest.”