A Duke Under Her Spell: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  “I promise you that I will never lay a hand upon you again.”

  “I wanted that as much as you did. It is as much my fault as yours. I am not leaving because I do not trust you to control yourself around me.”

  “Then why?”

  “I am leaving because I cannot control myself around you. I love you, Felix, and anyone with eyes can see it. Lady Cordelia and her brother can see it. Your mother can see it. If I stay a moment longer than is absolutely necessary, I could ruin your entire future. I must go.”

  Felix looked at her with a combination of hurt and joy. “You love me?” he whispered moving toward her.

  “Yes,” Marybeth answered matter-of-factly.

  “I…” Felix began to answer and found himself being interrupted by the Earl of Bredon calling his name. Resigned, he gave Marybeth a look that said they were not finished yet and went over to see what his guest needed.

  Feeling flushed and near tears, Marybeth decided that it was unwise to linger in the heated waters over long and exited the bath. The Dowager Duchess, seeing her go, called out requesting to return to the townhouse. The poor woman was exhausted beyond measure as the journey had taken entirely too much out of her. Had it not been for Marybeth’s treatments the Duchess would not have been able to make the journey at all.

  “Felix,” the Dowager Duchess called out softly. Her son turned to answer and found both women ready to leave. He emerged from the waters, his shirt clinging to his muscled form. “I need to return to the house to rest, but you and the others may stay as long as you wish. I believe there is to be a ball on Monday and another on Thursday that Lady Cordelia might be interested in attending. Perhaps you could invite her to go with you?”

  “I will return with you now. I will inform the Earl and Lady Cordelia that they may stay as long as they choose. I will broach the topic of the ball over dinner this evening.” Felix turned to speak with his guests and then rejoined Marybeth and his mother. He pushed the Dowager Duchess back to the town house in her wheeled chair and Mrs. Snow helped her into bed. Marybeth administered another treatment and the Duchess was sleeping soundly in no time at all.

  Tired, Marybeth crawled into her own bed after changing out of her wet clothes and allowed sleep to claim her. As she slept, she dreamt of another life where she and Felix were wed, their children and grandchildren gathered around them. Felix, her heart whispered as she reached out into the darkness for a man who was not and would never be hers.

  Chapter 23

  The day of the ball arrived, and the townhouse was a flurry of activity as Lady Cordelia fussed about in preparation. They had received callers every day since their arrival paying their respects to the Duke and Dowager Duchess, but Lady Cordelia had by far been the most social of them all. It was as if Bath had made her come alive, fluttering about from one house to another. The Earl was frequently absent, spending much of his time on his own tending to various business connections.

  Marybeth and Mrs. Snow would tend to the Dowager Duchess’s needs in the morning, then Felix would come and take his mother to the waters during the day in the wheeled bath chair. As the Dowager Duchess was not up to visitors the majority of the time, Felix bore the bulk of the family social responsibilities in the afternoon and evening hours. He was continuously coming and going to one social engagement or another, many times with Lady Cordelia on his arm.

  When Marybeth was not helping the Dowager Duchess, she roamed the streets, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city. She loved the old Roman architecture of the baths mixed with the more modern aspects throughout the town. When at the townhouse, she did her best to stay away from Felix so as not to fall victim to temptation. On the night of the ball she intended on staying home with the Dowager Duchess; however, the Duchess was having none of it.

  “Marybeth, I will not allow you to remain behind with me and squander the pleasures of youth. You have never had the opportunity to attend a ball before now and I do not wish for you to miss it on my account.”

  “I will be more than happy remaining here with you. I have not ever, nor do I now desire to attend a ball,” Marybeth argued in return.

  “That is only because you have never been to one, my dear. A ball is the premiere event to meet potential suitors. Perhaps you might be so fortunate as to find the one for you at your first social event.”

  “That is highly unlikely.” Marybeth shook her head in good natured refusal of the Dowager Duchess’s attempts at matchmaking. “I have no desire to find a husband.”

  The Dowager Duchess’s face registered shock at Marybeth’s words. “No husband?”

  “No,” Marybeth shook her head smiling at the Duchess’s reaction.

  “But every girl of age seeks a husband.” The notion of Marybeth’s confession had truly confounded the noble lady. “I was so very happy with mine.” Her face took on a dreamy faraway look as if she were remembering a happier time. “So happy…”

  Marybeth smiled and sat down on the bed next to the Dowager Duchess, taking her hand. “Tell me about him.”

  “Arthur was a wonderful man. He was strong, handsome, caring, a magnificent leader and father,” the Dowager Duchess smiled fondly. “Felix may have my outward appearance, but he has his father’s strength of mind and heart.”

  “He sounds lovely.”

  “He was. I was blessed to find such a love.”

  “Not everyone is so fortunate.”

  The Dowager Duchess studied Marybeth’s face. “But you could. You will not know what awaits you until you try.”

  Marybeth sighed. The Dowager Duchess spoke with such earnest that to deny her further felt disrespectful. “I have nothing to wear.”

  “Yes, but I do. We are of a similar build, are we not?” the Dowager Duchess smiled. “Mrs. Snow, if you would be so kind as to please bring out a selection of my dresses for Miss Wright.”

  “Your Grace,” Mrs. Snow bowed, casting a disapproving look at Marybeth. She moved into the dressing room and emerged moments later with an armload of dresses.

  Marybeth eyed the pile with trepidation. The colors were beautiful, but she could not imagine floating about the dance floor without tripping and falling over her own skirt. “I do not know how to dance,” she admitted, reaching out to feel the silken fabric.

  “That too can be remedied.” The Dowager Duchess waved away Marybeth’s worries and reached out to ring the bell pull. A footman immediately appeared at the door. “Please find His Grace and inform him that his mother requests his presence in her bedchamber forthwith.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The footman bowed and went in search of the Duke.

  “Really, this all unnecessary,” Marybeth protested. She had not gone to so much trouble to avoid Felix just to have his own mother put them in the same room together. She knew the Dowager Duchess would not approve of their being together were she to know the fullest extent of their feelings for one another. She had seen the look in the Duchess’s eyes when she had caught Felix looking at Marybeth.

  When Felix entered the room, he walked over and place a kiss on his mother’s forehead. “You requested my presence?” he enquired with a smile.

  “Yes. We find we are in need of your services.”

  “Oh?” he asked with a raised brow in curiosity. “And what services might those be?”

  “We need you to teach Marybeth how to dance,” the Dowager Duchess announced, the look on her face very much resembling that of a cat who has just caught a canary.

  “I see,” Felix answered turning his gaze to Marybeth. Something flickered in the Duke’s eyes, but she was not at all sure what the look had meant.

  “I am sure that His Grace has far more important matters to attend to than teaching me to dance,” Marybeth protested.

  “Nonsense,” the Dowager Duchess argued. “You do not have anything more important than helping our dear friend, do you?” she asked Felix.

  Please say yes. Say that you are otherwise engaged. Say that you have an appointme
nt with the Earl. Say that you are having tea with the Prince Regent. Say anything but no. Marybeth begged him in silence.

  “No, I do not,” Felix replied smiling. “I would be happy to instruct Miss Wright in the finer points of dancing.”

  Marybeth’s heart managed to sink and speed up at the same time. It was a feeling that was not at all comfortable for her. The knowledge that she would be held in Felix’s arms once more evoked equal parts anxiety and excitement. “Are you certain?” she asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

  “I am,” Felix answered meeting her eyes.

  “Wonderful!” The Dowager Duchess exclaimed, clasping her hands in delight. “We will make you the prettiest girl at the ball. No man will be able to resist you.” Marybeth saw Felix’s jaw tighten at his mother’s words, but he said nothing. “No go on, my dear, while we select a dress and see what alterations might need to be made. When we are done, Marybeth will come and find you.”

  “Very well,” Felix answered, bowed to his mother, and left the room.

  Marybeth swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back to face the pile of dresses upon the bed. The Dowager Duchess sorted through the dresses glancing up at Marybeth periodically to compare coloring. At the bottom of the pile was a stunning lilac gown that glistened in the sunlight from the window. “Oh,” Marybeth breathed. She had never seen a more beautiful garment.

  “This one,” the Dowager Duchess nodded, satisfied that she had found the perfect dress. Mrs. Snow picked the ball gown up and placed it against Marybeth’s frame. “Try it on, dear,” the Dowager Duchess instructed, motioning for her to do as bid.

  Marybeth did as instructed with Mrs. Snow’s help. “It is beautiful,” Marybeth exclaimed running her hands over the smooth purple fabric.

  “It is Indian silk. I had it made from fabric my brother sent me. He always said the color made my green eyes shine.” The Dowager Duchess spoke of her brother with affection.

  “I could not possibly wear something of such sentimental value,” Marybeth declined, attempting to remove the garment before anything bad could happen to it.

  “Nonsense. You will wear it and look lovely doing so. Mrs. Snow will see that it is ready for you when the time comes and will help you with your hair. For now, you may remove it and go along to find Felix for your dancing lesson.”

  Marybeth did as instructed and removed the dress, handing it back to Mrs. Snow. She left the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber in search of Felix and found him in the library. He was sitting at the desk pouring over a set of ledgers. “I am here for my dancing lesson,” she announced from the open doorway.

  Felix looked up and smiled. “And yet you look less than pleased about it.”

  “It is an intimate thing to dance with a man.”

  “It can be, yes,” he nodded in agreement. “Or it can mean nothing at all.”

  “And does it mean nothing?”

  “You already know the answer to that question.”

  “As you already know the reason why I would be less than pleased.”

  Felix sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, the pain he felt clear for her to see. “Yes, I do.”

  “My apologies,” she murmured, moving forward into the room. “I did not intend to make this any more difficult than it will already be.”

  Felix attempted a smile. “I simply wish to make it as pleasantly appropriate a time as I am able.”

  “Yes, of course. That is, of course, best. ‘Tis only my own foolishness that has me in such a state. Please instruct me.” Marybeth gestured toward the open area in the middle of the room.

  Felix moved forward and swept her up into his arms. He moved so fast that Marybeth had nary a moment to breath before her hand rested on his chest above his heart. She could feel the steady beat of it beneath her palm and closed her eyes for the briefest moment to enjoy the comfort it brought her. She breathed in and out slowly in an effort to calm her own racing heart. Felix removed her hand from his chest and held it in his, his other hand moving around to encircle her waist.

  “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructed. Marybeth slid her free hand up his arm to his shoulder region and allowed it to rest upon the hard sinew of his broad muscular frame. “This is what is known as the German waltz.” He pulled her close against his body and began to move them across the floor.

  “This dance is most intimate,” Marybeth noted, blushing at the thoughts that floated through her own mind at his nearness.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied looking down into her eyes.

  “And this sort of behavior is permitted in polite society?” she asked in surprise.

  Felix chuckled. “Yes, it is.”

  “But it resembles…” she stopped, turning bright crimson.

  Felix broke out into a full-fledged grin and laughed. “Lord Byron thinks so too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, he wrote about the intimacy of the waltz when it was first introduced to England.”

  “What did he have to say about it?”

  “Hmm, let us see if I can remember how it goes…” Felix stood and thought for a moment before reciting.

  “Waltz—Waltz—alone both legs and arms demands,

  Liberal of feet—and lavish of her hands;

  Hands which may freely range in public sight,

  Where ne’er before—but—pray ‘put out the light.’

  Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier

  Shines much too far—or I am much too near;

  And true, though strange—Waltz whispers this remark;

  ‘My slippery steps are safest in the dark!’”

  “Oh, my,” Marybeth stumbled over her own feet at the brazen nature of Lord Byron’s words.

  “Oh, yes, and it gets worse from there.”

  “I think perhaps I have heard enough.”

  “That is probably best,” Felix agreed with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Perhaps another dance?”

  “The country dance perhaps?”

  “Do they do so outside of the country?” she asked. The manners and rules of society were proving to be quite a foreign clime to her.

  Felix chuckled once more. “Yes, it is. The name comes from the French contredanse which is simply in reference to the dance’s structure.” Felix went on to explain the positions and steps of the dance as people faced off standing apart from one another. “We need more people for this dance,” he mused, thinking for a moment and then walked over and rang the bell pull. A footman entered moments later.

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “I need a number of the servants to join us in the library, if you would please inform them.”

  “And what number would that be, Your Grace?”

  “Three others beside yourself should provide a proper demonstration.”

  “Very well, Your Grace.” The footman bowed and went to do as bid.

  When he returned with the required number of people, Felix instructed them to face off for the dance. He led them in the steps and then before Marybeth knew what was happening, they were galloping together down the center of the line and circling back around from whence they had come. Breathless and laughing, she informed him, “This is much better.”

  “If you say so,” he murmured giving her a knowing look that caused shivers all the way down to her toes. “For me it is the waltz. It will always be the waltz.”

  Chapter 24

  Felix waited downstairs in the main hall for his companions to join him below stairs. They had made arrangements to ride to the ball together and he had the carriage awaiting them outside. He had felt a bit out of sorts since his dancing lesson with Marybeth. Holding her so near had broken down the carefully erected wall he had been trying to build around his heart. She had molded against his body perfectly as he had swept her about the room. He had been unable to think clearly since she had left him standing in the library alone.

  Damn the waltz for its enchanting power over a man.


  Lady Cordelia and the Earl joined him in the hall murmuring quietly to one another as they descended the stairs. Lady Cordelia wore a gown of pale pink in the latest fashion. She looked pretty and he made sure to tell her so, his mother’s words of encouragement to propose marriage ringing though his mind. “Shall we be going then?” the Earl inquired raising his brow in question at Felix.

  “We have one more joining us this evening.”

  “Whom would that be?” Lady Cordelia asked turning to look at Felix. A motion behind his shoulder caught her attention and she gasped in surprise, her hand flying to her chest.

  Felix turned to see what had upset her so and found himself frozen in place, unable to move or speak. There at the top of the stairs stood the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. “Marybeth,” he gasped out not intending to do so aloud.