A Duke Under Her Spell: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  “Yes, fear not, My Lady. Miss Wright has simply agreed to aid me in testing my new device. We will be but a moment. Please, enjoy your tea.”

  Felix wheeled the healer about for a moment more and then took her over to the tea table. “It is of grand construction, Your Grace,” the Earl praised as Felix assisted Miss Wright from the chair.

  “Yes, I think it will do quite nicely.”

  “Her Grace is fortunate to have as caring and conscientious of a son as Your Grace.”

  “Thank you.” Felix could not escape the feeling that the Earl was only being so pleasant because he still wished to convince him to sell the land with the castle, and to marry his sister.

  Looking at Miss Wright, he found himself wishing once more that it was she, and not Cordelia Weatherton, who was the noble lady. But she is not, and all thoughts of such a nature are for naught. Shaking his head, he moved forward to tend to his guests. He was caught off guard when Lady Cordelia laid a possessive hand on his arm as he sat down. Such forward behavior is unlike her. Following Lady Cordelia’s eye, he caught her giving Miss Wright a look of disdain. Jealousy is not an attractive look for anyone.

  Try as he may he could not bring himself to like the Weathertons, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult with Miss Wright’s presence. The four of them wiled away the next hour together until Miss Wright arose and announced that she would go and look in on the Dowager Duchess. Once the healer was out of hearing the Earl leaned forward a look of concern on his face, “Do you believe it to be wise to invite the granddaughter of a witch into your home, Your Grace?”

  “I do not believe the grandmother to have been a witch,” Felix answered shaking his head.

  “That may be so, Your Grace, but people will talk. Is having her so near worth risking your family’s reputation? I would be remiss if I did not point out the danger.” The Earl’s face was quite serious in its concern.

  “Yes, it is worth it. My mother’s life hangs in the balance. If you are made uncomfortable by her presence, then perhaps it would be best for you not to return until she has finished her duties here?”

  “Nay, perish the thought. We will not leave you in your time of need, my dear fellow. We will continue to be here by your side through this trying time.” His tone of voice made it sound as if he were being heroic.

  “And what of your reputation?” Felix asked somewhat sarcastically.

  “We will bear the burden willingly to ensure that you are not left alone in this time of crisis, Your Grace. Perhaps our presence will aid in limiting the damage to Your Graces’ reputation.”

  Felix felt like throwing something across the lawn, but he managed to restrain himself. “I thank you for your kind sacrifice.”

  “What is sacrifice among future family?”

  “Indeed.” Felix closed his eyes in secret agony over the thought.

  Mother is worth any sacrifice, even if it is binding myself to these people for the rest of my miserable life.

  Chapter 5

  “Cordelia you are not making enough progress with the Duke. It is clear that he is more interested in that Wright witch than he is you, and she has just arrived.” Bernard Weatherton, Earl of Bredon, scolded his sister.

  “Bernard, it is you who wishes for me to marry the Duke. You chased away the man I truly loved and commanded me to encourage a courtship with His Grace. I have done all that you ask, but it is hardly my fault if he is not interested. Did you see the state of him wheeling that chair around as if he were a common stable hand?”

  “I did,” the Earl nodded.

  “He was filthy and unkempt. Then to push that witch around as if they were children at play. It is unconscionable. A Duke who works with his hands and carries on a flirtation with a witch, is this really the man you wish to welcome as your brother?”

  “No, it is not, but he has something that I desire and that is good enough.”

  “That is all I am to you? A string of pearls to caste before swine in trade or barter as you wish?”

  “Is it not the fate of all women?”

  Cordelia clenched her fists in frustration. “You are well aware of the answer already, Brother.”

  “Indeed, I am, Sister. Now you be the good little girl that we both know you can be and convince the Duke to wed you, and soon.”

  “Yes, Bernard.” Cordelia bowed her head in submission. She knew her brother was right.

  Bernard was so like their deceased father, Reginald. She could not help but think of all the conversations that they had had on the very same topic when he was alive. Bernard was very much like their father in looks as well. He had the same straight blonde hair and dark brown eyes, the same nose and chin. Neither man was overly handsome, but they were not unattractive either, being somewhere in the middle. Cordelia looked more like their mother.

  “That is what I like to hear.” Bernard walked over and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “You must find a way to make the Duke fall in love with you, Cordelia. It is imperative to our family honor.”

  Cordelia nodded her head quietly. “I will do my best, Brother. Upon that, you may depend.”

  “Good.” Bernard turned and walked around to sit behind his desk.

  Cordelia knew that her brother had been greatly disappointed by their visit to Arkley and the Duke’s inattentiveness. The Duke had been far more concerned with getting his witch settled into the manor house than he had been in entertaining his guests. Cordelia could feel her tenuous grip upon his attentions slipping away. Were it only herself she had to think about she would be more than happy to let the Duke go, as she had no real affection for the man, but it was not her choice. It was a matter of family honor.

  “Now the ideal situation would be to have you invited to stay at Arkley Hall just as the witch has been invited to stay. Perhaps you could offer to sit with the Dowager Duchess and read to her?” Bernard suggested, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers in thought. “The Duke appears to have a soft spot for the old lady.”

  “That is what maids are for. Why do I need to show interest in her illness? She is being doted on enough as it is. ‘Tis likely naught but female hysteria.” Cordelia sat back in her seat pouting like a child, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Sit up!” her brother commanded, causing her to jump. She quickly obeyed. “It is unbecoming of a lady of your station to slouch.”

  “My apologies, Brother,” she murmured, her eyes downcast in repentance.

  “I am no more pleased about the situation than you are, Sister, but we must play the cards that we are dealt.”

  Her brother’s reference to gambling caused her anger to flare. “We would not be in this state if Father had not gambled away the family fortunes.”

  “Yes, but he did, and we are left to pick up the pieces. We cannot afford failure.”

  “I do not appreciate being sold as chattel in order to pay off Father’s gambling debts,” she huffed. “It is uncivilized behavior at best.”

  “And I do not appreciate my sister challenging my authority in my own home,” he glared at her over the top of his fingers.

  “My apologies, Brother.” Cordelia quickly humbled herself.

  “Win the Duke’s heart and all shall be forgiven.”

  “The witch must go,” Cordelia insisted. “As long as she is there, the Duke’s attentions will be divided.”

  “Then we will just have to make him see reason, but you know as well as I that he will not send her away as long as she stands a chance at healing the Dowager Duchess. He made his sentiments quite clear during our visit.”

  “He must be made to see the threat to his reputation.”

  “And how do you propose to accomplish such a task?”

  “The only way that that will happen is if others know of his decision to bring her into his household. Such knowledge could get him censored from le bon ton. Would that not be enough for any man to change his ways?”

  “I am not c
ertain that even public censure would cause him to change course. The Duke is a man of principle, family above all else. He would sooner choose ruin than let his mother die. No, the only way that he will see reason is if the healer’s remedies do not work.”

  “What are you proposing, Brother?”

  “I propose we do nothing and wait until the healer’s remedies fail of their own accord, then when the Dowager Duchess’s health does not improve, we will be there to console the Duke and to urge him to preserve what is left of his reputation.”

  Cordelia thought over her brother’s plan. “And you are certain that she will indeed fail?”

  “Aren’t you? Do you honestly believe that a handful of weeds will provide a cure?”

  “No,” Cordelia shook her head in the negative.

  “Well then…”

  Cordelia sighed. “Wait and be patient for the proper time.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And how am I to keep his attentions until then?”

  “Be creative. You are a beautiful noble woman. Surely you have means by which to make a man love you?”

  “I did have a man who loved me, but you chased him away.”

  “For your own good, Cordelia. Why should you pledge yourself to a lowly baronet when you could be a Duchess?”

  “At least as a baroness, I would have been happy.”

  “Happiness, my dear sister, is fleeting. A title is forever.”

  * * *

  Marybeth sat at the Dowager Duchess’s bedside, monitoring her condition. The noble lady’s fever had spiked and left her in a state of delirium. Marybeth had brewed another batch of white willow bark tea and used cooling cloths to bring her temperature down. The Duchess now slept in a relative state of comfort, but Marybeth hesitated to leave her side for fear that the fever might return.

  The Duke entered his face drawn with worry. “The maid just informed me of Mother’s condition. How is she?” He had been riding and had been unaware of the Dowager Duchess’s state.

  “She is resting comfortably now. The tea is working,” she reassured him.

  “Thank the heavens that you were here to aid her in her time of need.” The gratitude he felt for her healing skills was plain on his face for all to see. “I do not know what we would do without you.”

  “You would have found another healer, I suspect,” Marybeth humbly replied.

  “Doubtful, Miss Wright, entirely doubtful.”

  The Duke moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking his mother’s hand in his own. His touch was so gentle that he did not wake her or even cause her to stir. Marybeth sat in the chair next to the bed and studied his face. He was a kind and loving man. That was made evident every time he came to visit his mother, as well as in the hours he spent in his workshop creating devices to make the Dowager Duchess’s life easier and more enjoyable.

  At present the Duke was planning a trip to Bath so that his mother might take in the waters there. He had invited Marybeth to join them. She had never been to Bath and did not know what to expect, but she was fascinated by the idea of the ancient Roman baths and architecture. She wondered if the waters truly helped to restore health or if it was all a matter of wishful thinking. Either way she was excited. The Duke had told her of the city’s history and current culture, leaving her in a state of anticipatory curiosity.

  “When do you hope to depart for Bath?” she asked quietly.

  “Within the fortnight, Mother’s health permitting of course.”

  “Of course,” she nodded her head in understanding.

  The worry on the Duke’s face was heartbreaking. He released his mother’s hand, straightened her blankets, pulling them up over her chest, and then moved to the open window. He stared out across the grounds. “When I was but a boy, Mother would chase me around the gardens playing various games. My governess thought it to be most undignified and attempted to put a stop to it, but Mother would have none of it.”

  “She sounds lovely, your mother.”

  “Yes, she is,” the Duke agreed. “When all other ladies were sitting inside of their drawing rooms only seeing their children during certain hours of the day overseen by a governess, I was out playing with mine. She is my best friend. A better companion no man could ever ask for, but lately there has been a barrier between us.”

  “A barrier?” Marybeth asked against her better judgement.

  “Yes, she wishes for me to wed the Lady Cordelia Weatherton.”

  “I see.” Marybeth did not know the lady in question, but her first impression at tea had not been a good one. She could not imagine a worse fit for the Duke.

  “Our estates abut so it makes a great deal of geographical sense,” the Duke reasoned.

  “Love is not a matter of geography, Your Grace,” Marybeth answered before she could think better of it.

  “There is the familial alliance of two great houses as well.”

  “But do you love her? Is she kind, caring, intelligent?”

  The Duke looked at her curiously. “No, I do not love her, and I do not know if she is any of those things. If she is, she has yet to exhibit such qualities.”

  “Do you not care about the lady’s character?” Marybeth knew that many men did not care if what her grandmother had told her bore any merit at all, but she could not imagine a man such as the Duke not caring.

  “I care very much, but for me to wed Lady Cordelia is my mother’s last dying wish and I dare not disappoint her. If she were to die unhappy, I would never forgive myself.”

  “You would throw away what remains of your life and any chance of future happiness simply to make your mother happy in her last days?”

  “Yes, I would,” the Duke answered without bitterness or malice. Marybeth shook her head in sorrow for him. “You disapprove?”

  “It is not my place to approve or disapprove of a Duke’s marriage plans.”

  “But?”

  “But since you desire my answer, I will give it. Yes, I disapprove. I believe that you deserve so much more than that, Your Grace. You are a man of heart and intellect. You deserve to wed someone with the same.”

  “An unlikely find among the ton.”

  “I think you sell my sex short, Your Grace.”

  “No, not your sex, Miss Wright, but my class and station.”

  “Your mother is a woman of both heart and intellect. Is she not of your class and station?”

  “Yes, of course, but she is the rarity.”

  “I see.” As Marybeth’s experience with the noble born was limited, she had no alternative but to take his word for it. “That is a sad thing indeed.”

  “Indeed,” the Duke agreed, studying her face once more.

  “My apologies if I overstepped, Your Grace.”

  “Not at all. I appreciate a woman with spirit. You must never fear to speak your mind around me, Miss Wright.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. You are most gracious.”

  “Not particularly, I simply appreciate honesty.”

  “But it does not change how you feel about marrying Lady Cordelia, does it?”

  “No, it does not, but I thank you for your concern. I would be honored to count you among my friends if you are amenable?”

  “It would be an honor, Your Grace.” Marybeth bowed her head in acknowledgement of the honor.

  “It is I who am honored, Miss Wright,” the Duke bowed his head in return.

  “If we are to be friends, Your Grace, then perhaps you could call me Marybeth. Miss Wright seems quite unnatural to me after spending a lifetime secluded in the forest with only my grandmother and Oliver to provide companionship.”

  “Very well, Marybeth. You must call me Felix.”

  “Are you certain that is wise, given our significant variance in station?”

  “Perhaps a compromise then? In private we shall call each other our given names, but in public we shall continue to use our honorifics.”

  Marybeth smiled. “A sound plan, Your Grace.”

  �
��We are in private now, are we not, Marybeth?”

  Her smiled turned into a grin of amusement. “A sound plan, Felix.”

  “Excellent!” he grinned back. “Now you must always promise to be as honest as you have been with me here and now. No matter the circumstance, you must always tell me exactly how you feel.”

  “I cannot imagine that such a thing is wise, Your Grace. I mean Felix,” she corrected herself.