The Devious Seduction 0f A Wayward Duke (Steamy Historical Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  His son was of the upper crust of society, and he didn’t want Jamie interacting with those of the lowest class. He was a Marquess and would one day be a Duke. He didn’t need to be caring about making sure a common street peddler had a job.

  “Your Grace?”

  Wright stepped into the room. “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes, I did.” Oliver turned in his chair and faced Wright. “I have to leave soon to travel to Lord Kenley’s home for our meeting, and I need to make sure that you are fine with finishing out the day at the distillery.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. Since you won’t be home for dinner, my time is well-spent managing the end-of-day activities at the distillery.”

  “Perfect. One more thing. I want your advice about something, Wright.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “This morning, Jamie suggested that I hire an old peddler to work at the distillery. He said that he felt badly about the peddler’s situation, and thought if he had a job, he could improve his lot in life. I told him that peddlers are known for cheating and stealing, and there was no possible way we would hire someone like that.”

  “I very much agree, Your Grace.”

  “What do you know about Miss Ainsley’s background? I’m a bit worried that she is putting these ideas into his head.”

  Oliver could see a look of confusion covering Wright’s face. “Well, Your Grace, I know she was an orphan. I also know that she was educated in the orphanage by the staff. She was bright and intelligent, and I was told that she taught the other children.”

  “Hmm…So no history of interacting with peddlers or others of that ilk?”

  “No, Your Grace. Not that I am aware of, at least.”

  “Do you think it would be out of line for me to ask her?”

  “No, Your Grace. You are her employer, and as such, you should know her background.”

  “Yes, Wright,” Oliver said, beginning to gather his papers. He looked at the clock. It was almost time for Jamie’s lessons to be over. “Do me a favor. Please go to Miss Ainsley right now and ask her to come to me. I would like to talk to her before I leave for Lord Kenley’s.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  * * *

  Priscilla approached the Duke’s office with apprehension. She didn’t know if it was normal or not to be called here, but she had a feeling that trouble could be behind that door.

  “Please sit, Miss Ainsley,” he said as she walked in. “I want to talk to you quickly about Jamie.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she could hear that her voice trembled as she spoke.

  The Duke paced around the room quickly. He seemed distracted.

  “Miss Ainsley, I have a bit of a concern about what you might be teaching my son,” he said, as he suddenly turned to face her. “He has an idea that it’s proper to hire people like peddlers to work in my distillery. Where would he get an idea like that?”

  Priscilla looked directly at the Duke. “I didn’t give him that idea, Your Grace. However, I do not feel as if there is anything wrong with it. A peddler deserves a job just as much as anyone else.”

  She could see from his shocked expression that the Duke was not used to being spoken to so directly, especially by a woman.

  He shook his head. “No, Miss Ainsley. I can’t agree with that, and I strongly advise that you do not put any more ideas like that into my son’s head. He cannot live his life pandering to thieves and cheats.”

  Priscilla could feel the anger rising throughout her body. The Duke quickly turned, and then said, “Is that understood, Miss Ainsley?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Very good,” he replied, now leaning over the desk. She almost wondered if he was in pain.

  “You are dismissed, Miss Ainsley.”

  Chapter 11

  Oliver couldn’t believe that he got a full-blown erection when speaking with Miss Ainsley. He tried to hide it by leaning over the desk, but he was sure that she saw it.

  His body simply responded to her, and there was nothing that he could do about it. As soon as she walked into the room, his member began to stiffen. Then, when she got that strict look in her eye and talked back to him, he grew exponentially. It strained against his trousers, and the pain of wanting her was intense.

  Now, sitting in the carriage on the way to Lord Kenley’s estate, Oliver had plenty of time to think about the day’s events. Perhaps he had been too stern with Jamie this morning, but he had to show his son that he was different than other people. His son was a member of the peerage, and that came with certain responsibilities and expectations.

  He supposed that Miss Ainsley wouldn’t know that, having grown up in an orphanage, though she seemed to be very much a lady.

  Oliver decided that he would take some time to get to know her better.

  Glancing out the window, Oliver now turned his attention to his upcoming meeting with Lord Kenley. His estate was not too far away, just on the other side of town, so he wasn’t planning on staying over for the entire evening.

  He watched out the window as the carriage began to move through town. There were many people walking about, and he couldn’t help but wonder which of the peddlers they passed was the one Jamie had interacted with.

  Oliver turned his attention out of the opposite window and watched as they passed by the buildings. He could see why Jamie was so fascinated with the town life. He had never been in a situation where he would be around all of these people; people who were different than him.

  Even at this later time in the afternoon, the townsfolk were still shopping, interacting, and moving quickly. They passed a pub that Oliver didn’t recognize, and he made a mental note to send someone to enquire about selling his whisky there.

  He also noticed that the buildings were now further apart, so that signaled to him that they were moving out of town and close to Lord Kenley’s estate. He only lived approximately 15 minutes from the edge of town, according to the carriage driver.

  This would be the first time Oliver had been to Lord Kenley’s home. Typically, when they had business dealings, they had met at Oliver’s office or sometimes in town at Lord Kenley’s shop, which he used to sell some of his goods. Oliver was quite curious about what Lord Kenley’s home would be like, since he seemed to be able to obtain some very interesting things.

  The carriage continued, and Oliver noticed that he could see much more land than before. The fields were full of swaying grain, and Oliver wondered if the owner was one of his suppliers. We will have to make a note of this, too.

  A few more minutes passed, and Oliver could feel the carriage begin to slow. He leaned towards the window and looked out, and he could see a large home. It wasn’t as large as his, but it was quite regal looking. It had a number of elaborate gothic statues placed around the grounds, and Oliver wondered where Lord Kenley had gotten them.

  The carriage slowed to a stop at the door, and the coachman stepped down and opened the door for Oliver. He stepped out and smiled, as a middle-aged man approached him with a grin.

  “Welcome, Your Grace,” he said, bowing slightly. “It is my great pleasure to welcome you to the home of the Baron of Kenley. My name is Mr. Lowe, and I am Lord Kenley’s butler. Please come with me. The Baron will meet you inside.”

  Oliver nodded, and then followed Mr. Lowe up three short stairs and into the home. The interior was a bit garish for Oliver’s taste, but he could see, based on what he knew about Lord Kenley, why he would like this type of décor.

  As they walked out of the main entrance hall towards the main hallway, Oliver noticed a number of tribal artefacts, presumably from Africa, and once again wondered where Lord Kenley had obtained these items from.

  “Only around this corner, Your Grace,” Mr. Lowe said, as he motioned to the left with his open palm.

  “Just this way, Your Grace.”

  Oliver walked into the room, which was decorated in Chinoiserie. Much of the furniture was covered in black and gold lacquer, a
nd imitation bamboo was dotted throughout the room. Again, not quite Oliver’s taste, but he could see why Lord Kenley would like it.

  “Care for a drink? Wine?”

  “Yes, please,” Oliver replied, still trying to take in the details of this room. He noticed Chinese calligraphy decorating pictures on the wall.

  “Very good, Your Grace,” Mr. Lowe replied, motioning for the footman to bring the tray. “Please sit anywhere you like. Lord Kenley will be with you shortly.”

  Again, Mr. Lowe bowed slightly, and he left the room. Oliver took the glass from the footman’s tray and took a sip of the wine before sitting in the closest chair. The wine was bold and deep red in color. Oliver held it up to the light coming through the window. He couldn’t see through it. He would guess it was French…perhaps Claret.

  He took another sip, and just as he swallowed, the door to the room opened and Lord Kenley walked through in a rush.

  “Oh, Your Grace,” he said as he approached. “I do hope that you haven’t been waiting long.”

  Oliver stood and extended his hand to his host. “No, Lord Kenley. Only but a moment. This wine is delicious, by the way. Where is it from? France?”

  “No, no,” Lord Kenley replied, walking towards the footman who was pouring a second glass. “It’s Portuguese. Portugal has been producing fantastic grapes the past few years, in my opinion.”

  “I’m not very knowledgeable of the wine industry, but I do enjoy the taste.”

  “It’s one of my hobbies. I would love to own a vineyard of my own. The climate and soil here simply aren’t conducive to growing good grapes. It’s excellent for grains, which you know very well, but not for grapes, unfortunately. One can make a beautiful elderberry wine here in England, but I prefer proper grapes. Please sit.”

  Oliver sat back down in the chair he had occupied. Lord Kenley sat across from him and took another sip of wine. “This wine is actually a blend of two different grapes. Blends are becoming more popular all of the time. You can produce wine that brings out the best of each grape variety. It’s all very interesting.” He looked up at Oliver. “Speaking of blending, I’m happy that you accepted my invitation. Don’t worry, I won’t offer to buy your distillery again. Instead, I would like to speak with you about some items that I have available.”

  “Oh? What type of items?”

  Lord Kenley leaned back as he smiled. “Items that help boost your profits, significantly.”

  “I’m interested,” Oliver replied, sipping his wine.

  “Excellent,” Lord Kenley exclaimed, as he clapped his hands together. “The first thing I thought that you would be interested in is known as…steam.”

  “Steam? Such as a steam engine?”

  “Close. At least it’s the same idea.”

  “I don’t understand. How could a steam engine help to boost my profits?”

  “It’s not quite a steam engine, but it uses the same type of technology,” Lord Kenley explained. “It’s basically a lift, which is powered by steam. Instead of using pulley systems, which I assume you use now, a steam-powered system would not only allow your staff to move barrels more quickly, but it would also cut down on the amount of staff you would require.”

  Oliver leaned back in his chair. “Interesting.”

  “It’s fairly new to the market, but it will change everything in industry. What I have is a prototype of a larger lift. But this smaller version would be perfect for the distillery, and you were the first person I thought of when I obtained it.”

  “I see,” Oliver replied, thinking about the positive impact he could get from a machine like this. “And what is the cost of something like this?”

  “We can discuss cost at a later time. First, I want to make sure that you are happy with the product.”

  “Are you saying I could use, or test, the product before paying for it?”

  “Precisely,” Lord Kenley replied, though Oliver thought this was a bit strange.

  “Is there something I am missing here?” Oliver asked, his head cocked to the side.

  “Not at all. I am simply hoping to get someone of your…reputation…to try it out. I would like to recreate these and sell them. Industry is truly the future.”

  “Indeed,” Oliver replied.

  “I have more to talk to you about, too, Your Grace.”

  * * *

  Priscilla had enjoyed dinner with Miss Slade and Lord Seton since the Duke was away for the evening. It was quite reminiscent of a family meal, something she didn’t have much experience with.

  Lord Seton was in great spirits, and even though they had been forbidden from going back into town, he still seemed quite happy. Priscilla wondered, however, if he was up to something. With the Duke away, it would be the perfect opportunity for him to pull a prank. She vowed to herself that she would keep a close eye on him the rest of the evening. So, for now, they were both sitting in the library, reading.

  She could see Lord Seton over the top of the book she was reading. He was lounging on an elongated sofa, fully engrossed in his story. His tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth, and she could tell that he didn’t even realize it.

  Priscilla could certainly recognize this state…it’s the state of being so into a book you forget reality for a moment. Her book wasn’t as good, but that was fine, because she wanted to make sure to watch Lord Seton.

  The book she was reading was a romance novel. She wasn’t usually interested in them, as she never thought much about romance. She guessed, at some point, she would marry, but so far, in her two-and-twenty years, she had never met a man whom was very interesting to her…at least a man who she could reasonably marry.

  She had noticed that the Duke was very handsome, of course, and he was also single and able to marry. However, he was a Duke. It would be preposterous for her to think that he would see anything in her. She knew her skinny frame and wildly curly hair wasn’t quite attractive to most men. They were more interested in women who had a nice figure, with a round backside and buxom breasts.

  “Miss Ainsley?”

  Priscilla jumped at the sound of the voice and turned towards Lord Seton. She had allowed herself to get lost in thought and totally dismissed her plan to watch Lord Seton.

  “Yes, My Lord?” she asked, placing her book down on her lap.

  He yawned widely, and perhaps a bit too obviously. “I am tired. I believe I am going to find Miss Slade and retire for the evening.”

  Priscilla glanced at the clock. It was earlier than he would typically go to bed, so she knew that he was likely planning a prank.

  “Very well, My Lord. I hope that you sleep well, and I will see you in the morning for our lesson. I am so wholly interested in this book, I am going to stay here and read as much as I can tonight.”

  Lord Seton smiled widely. “Great! I will see you tomorrow, Miss Ainsley.” He stood up and quickly walked out of the door. Priscilla slowly counted to five, and then stood up and quietly opened the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. She could just see him turn the corner at the end of the hall.

  She quickly walked towards the direction he went in, but by the time she reached the end of the hallway, he was nowhere to be seen. She stood silently, straining to listen for any noises. A moment later, she heard a small squeak, which sounded just like the squeak of a well-made shoe on a marble floor.

  Priscilla slowly made her way towards the sound, and then saw Lord Seton reaching for a handle on a door that she was not familiar with. He pulled the door open, looked over his shoulder the opposite way, and then walked through, closing it behind him.

  She had no idea where that door led, but she had to follow Lord Seton. Priscilla quickly walked towards it and opened it. She was met, staring face-to-face with the young lord. She gasped. He yelled out.

  “What are you doing, My Lord?” she asked him, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

  “I…I…” he stammered.

  “You were going to pull a prank, weren’t you?
” Priscilla asked, now looking at him with a stern look on her face.

  Lord Seton’s head fell into a slow nod.

  “My Lord,” Priscilla said, making sure to keep her unyielding expression. “I think it’s time for you to really go find Miss Slade. Shall I accompany you?”

  Lord Seton sighed and stepped out of the small room. It looked to be a type of storage area. There were rags, pails, mops, and brooms, so it seemed to be a place for the housemaids to store their tools.

  Priscilla placed her hand on Lord Seton’s shoulder, and the pair began to walk through the hallway in silence. As they approached the stairway, Miss Slade waved at them from the top.