A Duke Under Her Spell: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  She was stunning in a silk gown the color of purple lilacs. Her grey eyes shone like stars in the predawn sky. Her chestnut hair was piled about her in a glorious cascade of curls that tumbled around her face and neck. A silver and amethyst jeweled sash rested just below her breasts as the neckline came down, exposing the warmth of her creamy skin. Felix knew that no matter how long he lived he would never again see anything so exquisite as the sight before him.

  Marybeth descended the stairs and Felix moved forward to aid her in navigating the bottom step. She accepted his proffered hand with a glance of gratitude as she came to stand in the hall. “Shall we?” he asked offering her his arm. She nodded her consent and they walked together to the waiting carriage.

  “Well!” Felix heard Lady Cordelia huff and turned to offer her his hand in assistance once he had secured Marybeth into the carriage. “I am not at all certain that it is appropriate for her to attend,” she informed him as she stepped up into the conveyance.

  “She attends at the Dowager Duchess’s command,” Felix informed her firmly.

  “I see,” she replied, eyeing Marybeth across the carriage. Resigning herself to the situation, she moved to sit in the seat across from Marybeth. The Earl entered the carriage and did the same.

  Felix fought the urge to roll his eyes and climbed aboard, taking his seat next to Marybeth. He was more than happy to do so. In the close confines of the carriage he could smell the scent of the soap she had used to bathe, and it enlivened his senses. She smelled of flowers and the forest. It was intoxicating. The driver called out for the horses to move forward and the carriage began bumping along, jostling its occupants closer together as it moved.

  Felix reveled in the warmth of her body so close to his own. He longed to take her into his arms once more. Feeling her elbow jab him in the ribs he looked over to find her nervously twisting her gloves in her hands. She stared out of the carriage window, preoccupied with her own thoughts. He reached over on the darkness of the carriage and squeezed her hand reassuringly. He noted that she had opted to wear the ring her brother Alexander had given her, and he wondered why she did so now.

  “You will do well,” he murmured in reassurance.

  “I am not at all certain,” she admitted quietly.

  “Shall we turn the carriage around and take you back?” Lady Cordelia enquired, unable to hide the hopeful tone in her voice.

  Marybeth opened her mouth to reply, but Felix beat her to it. “Nay, she shall do superlatively.” He was not about to let Marybeth return to the townhouse after she had gone to so much effort to attend upon his mother’s wishes.

  Lady Cordelia’s brows arched, but she refrained from saying anything more on the subject. “Do not forget, Your Grace, that my sister has saved the first dance for you,” the Earl reminded, a hint of warning in his tone.

  “I am honored, Lady Cordelia,” Felix replied bowing his head slightly in her direction. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to dance the entire night through with Marybeth, but he knew his duty and he would do it to his fullest ability. He squared his shoulders as his mother’s words came to the forefront of his mind once more.

  “Propose to Lady Cordelia, Felix. It is my greatest and last wish to see you married before I pass from this earth.”

  Clearing his throat, he adjusted his cravat. “Are you well?” Marybeth asked softly.

  “Yes, quite,” he lied, not wishing to burden her with his thoughts. She, however, did not look at all convinced.

  When they arrived at the Upper Rooms, they descended the carriage and entered the newer assembly room. The sheer number of attendees were astounding even to him. There had to be nearly a thousand people in attendance. “Oh, my,” Marybeth whispered from beside him.

  “Indeed,” he agreed nodding and offered her his arm. Lady Cordelia and the Earl of Bredon followed behind. Felix could practically feel their matching glares of disapproval.

  If I am to pledge the remainder of my days to a noble lady that I do not love, then I will at least have this one night with the woman that I do love.

  Felix moved to be announced and all eyes turned to gaze upon the newcomers. The announcer stood straight and tall as he boomed out, “His Grace, the Duke of Arkley.” Before he could stop her, Marybeth let go of his arm and faded into the background. He turned to request her return and found that she had disappeared from sight in the crowd. “His Lordship the Earl of Bredon and Lady Cordelia Weatherton,” the announcer’s voice boomed again.

  “Remember, Your Grace, you promised me the first dance,” Lady Cordelia reminded him taking his arm and dragging him into the ballroom.

  Felix swiveled his head all around, but Marybeth was nowhere to be seen. As he surveyed the crowd, he found himself being forced into a dance and was required to return his attention to the noble lady in front of him. The dance opened with a promenade with all of the ball’s participants; however, the crowd was so large that he was unable to distinguish Marybeth from the crowd of heads around him. He worried for her wellbeing but knew that he was being foolish.

  It is quite unlikely that anything would befall her here, he attempted to temper his concern, but no sooner had he thought the words then his mind instantly recalled his mother’s promise that no man would be able to resist her. Felix began to look for Marybeth with renewed fervor. I will not leave her to fall prey to any unscrupulous character who might make advances upon her person.

  He could not bear the idea of another man holding her in his arms. He knew she was not a wanton woman to fall into the embrace of the first man to pay her note, but he could not erase the intimacy of their shared waltz from his mind. No man should ever hold her thus but I. Even as he thought the words, he realized the unfair nature of their meaning. I am to be betrothed to another. I would never wish her to a life lived in the forest alone. She is meant for far better and greater things than that.

  As soon as he was able to free himself from Lady Cordelia’s grasp, Felix plunged into the crowd in search of Marybeth. He found her in the garden wandering alone through the flowers. “Marybeth,” he called out as he caught up to her. “I have been searching for you everywhere. You had me quite concerned. What were you thinking, running off like that?”

  “I was thinking that I do not belong in this world,” she admitted, bending to pick a blossom from a nearby plant. “This,” she lifted the flower up to her nose and smelled it. “This is my world. The plants, the earth. That,” she turned sweeping her arm out toward the grand ballroom, “is not my world no matter how beautiful a dress I might wear.”

  “Marybeth, I…” he began but she cut him off.

  “I do not belong to your world, Felix. I will never belong. Your mother is right. You should wed Lady Cordelia. She will be the wife that you need to survive in your world. I could never be a noble lady.”

  “But you already are,” Felix argued.

  “No, I am not,” Marybeth argued shaking her head.

  “Yes, you are. You are a noble lady by birth, legitimate or not, and more than that you are a noble lady in spirit. I have never met a more noble soul.” Felix took the hand that bore her brother’s ring and brought it up into the light.

  “I wore this thing so that it might instill me with τhe bravery to face this night, but instead it merely served to remind me that I should not be here. As I stood next to you in front of all of those ladies and gentlemen, their faces turned up in curiosity and reverence I could not bear to have my name announced beside yours. I could not taint your good name with my blood stained one.”

  “That is absurd,” Felix protested. “You are not blood stained and you most certainly would not taint me in anyway no matter the truth of your paternity. What your father did to your mother was wrong and he should hang for it, but that will never happen. These people do not know, nor do they need to know your story. There is absolutely no reason that you cannot go in there and hold your head high. None whatsoever.”

  Tears gleamed in Marybeth’s eyes. He
had never seen her as anything less than a confident woman, proud of her skill and the heritage her grandmother had left her. The moment she had learned about her father and the true story of her conception she had grown uncertain, he had seen it, but he had never guessed that it had so drastically altered her perception of who she was. “Felix, I…”

  “No, Marybeth. I will not hear another word of you maligning yourself. I do not care what anyone here thinks about you or I standing together, being announced together, or dancing together. No one and nothing is going to rob us of this one night together.”

  As Felix spoke the strains of a waltz began to float down through the garden. Taking a step forward he swept Marybeth up into his arms and began to move their bodies as one to the music. The soothing sounds of the stringed instruments swept over the earth and surrounded them like a blanket of clouds shielding them from the outside world. Lost in the dance and in each other they glided across the garden expanse like a breeze across the calm surface of a lake.

  They lost all sense of time and place as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Marybeth surrendered herself to his lead and protection. As the music swelled so too did Felix’s heart with a fierce need to keep her in his arms safe for always. It was a feeling unlike any he had ever felt before. In that moment he was hers and she was his, together as one upon the ebb and flow of time itself. And then it was over.

  The music stopped and the world went still. The sound of riotous applause shook them from their state of peaceful bliss and the reality of their situation came crashing back down around them. “I am yours forever,” he whispered, “No matter who may bear my name, you will hold my heart.”

  Marybeth shook her head. “You will never be mine, but I will always be yours,” and with that she ran from the garden disappearing into the crowded ballroom. Felix gave chase, but by the time he had caught up with her she had already flagged down a carriage and was rumbling down the streets of Bath back toward the townhouse.

  Chapter 25

  Felix watched as the carriage rolled away. He debated whether to follow her, but she had made it quite clear that she wished to be left alone. Deciding to give her the time she needed, he reentered the ballroom in search of his guests. He was in no mood to be proposing marriage, but he could not bring himself to abandon them entirely. He was not an inconsiderate man by nature, but his concern for Marybeth had very nearly tempted him into doing exactly that.

  Spotting the Earl of Bredon across the crowded ballroom from his vantage point atop the entry stairs, he descended and weaved his way through the people between them. He doubted that the Earl and his sister would be ready to leave so early, but it would do little harm to ask. The band started up a Scottish reel and Felix found himself being swept up into a dance by an overly exuberant crowd of young people. Not wishing to hurt the young woman he had been paired with, he acquiesced to dance.

  When the reel ended, Felix bowed to his dancing partner and headed once more for where he had last spotted the Earl of Bredon. As he weaved his way through the crowd, he caught the sound of Lady Cordelia’s voice. Changing course, he moved toward it. “She is a witch no doubt about it. Bastard born from her mother’s violation. A punishment from God for her wicked ways I would wager. Marybeth Wright is not meant for civilized society. Once I have married the Duke, I will have her removed.”

  “That, My Lady, is not your order to give,” Felix stated, standing behind her.

  Lady Cordelia’s pale face turned to stare up at him with wide surprised eyes. She had not had any idea that he had been there listening to her conversation. “Your Grace,” she began.

  “Our courtship is off. There will be no marriage joining our ancient houses together,” Felix informed her sternly. “You are no longer welcome at Arkley Hall. Please be so kind as to find other accommodations for the remainder of your stay in Bath and transportation home.” With that Felix turned and left the ballroom.

  That night Felix did not immediately return to the townhouse as he knew that Lady Cordelia and the Earl would be returning there for their things, having been forced to find other lodgings. Instead, he roamed the streets of Bath thinking about what he would say to his mother and to Marybeth. He knew that their stations divided them, but he loved her enough to overcome all such obstacles that might stand in their way now or in the future.

  But does she love me enough? He could not help but wonder. Felix roamed the streets until dawn began to break over the horizon. Making up his mind he turned for the townhouse. “There is only one way to find out.”

  * * *

  Marybeth sat in her purple ballgown in front of the library fire sipping brandy as she wept. She had returned to the townhouse with the intent of going to bed and then had realized that she could not get herself out of her dress without help, and Mrs. Snow was nowhere to be found. The Dowager Duchess had long been asleep, and Marybeth was not about to ask a footman to unfasten her bodice. Frustrated, she had stormed into the library, poured herself a drink, and sunk down upon the settee.

  She sat there for some time until she finally dozed off. She was not sure how long she had slept when she was rudely awakened by the sound of slamming doors. The sound of stomping feet entering the library and brandy snifters being clinked about brought her up out of her chair. “Your Lordship,” she curtsied as she knew was expected of her.

  “You!” the Earl seethed. She had never seen him so angry. “You are the reason my sister has lost everything! I should strangle you and dump your body in the River Avon!”

  “No, Bernard, you cannot!” Lady Cordelia’s voice cautioned him against any such rash behavior. “It is my fault as much as hers.”

  “Be still! I will deal with you later,” the Earl ordered, then turned back to Marybeth. “You, I will deal with now.” He moved forward menacingly. “Now you listen and listen well, witch.”

  “I am not a witch,” Marybeth argued before she could stop herself. The Earl raised his hand and struck her across the face, sending her spinning to the floor.

  “You will tell the Duke that you have changed your mind about him and his mother. You will refuse to help either of them any more from this night forward. You will do so in a way that breaks the Duke’s heart. You will do so in a way that makes him loathe the very thought of you. You will leave immediately, and you will never return. If I ever see you step foot here or at Arkley Hall ever again I will kill you and I will kill the Duke.”

  “No! I will go to the magistrate and report you!”

  “And I will tell them that you are poisoning the Dowager Duchess.”

  “I would never!”

  “They do not know that. To them you are just a witch from the forest. Who do you think they will believe, you or a peer of the realm?”

  “I will not let you do this!”

  “You have no choice. Now go and pack your things. The Duke must have no doubts as to your intentions. He must not be given false hope that you will return.” The Earl of Bredon grabbed her up by the arm and hauled her up the stairs to her room. “And get out of those clothes. You are not worthy of a noble lady’s silk.” The Earl jerked at her fastenings nearly ripping the silk in the process. He pulled his sister into the room and made her stand guard. “Make sure she does as she is instructed. I will be just outside the door.”

  The Earl left the room and shut the door behind him. Lady Cordelia stepped forward and helped Marybeth the rest of the way out of her dress. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I did not mean for this to happen.”

  Marybeth refused to speak. She was so angry she did not trust herself to say anything. Instead she shed the lovely purple dress and pulled on her everyday frock. Packing her few belongings into her medicinal bag, she turned ready to leave the townhouse, Bath, and all things pertaining to the nobility behind. When she opened the door, she found the Earl standing watch just as he had warned. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her back down to the library where he forced her to write a letter saying goodbye.

  “M
ake it hurt,” he ordered as he stood over her watching her every move.

  Marybeth picked up the quill and began writing. By the time she was done she was in tears. She had never felt so low in all her life. “God will punish you for this,” she whispered to the Earl and was silenced by the back of his hand striking her across the face.

  “Get out,” he seethed, and then physically tossed her out into the street.

  Marybeth fell, skinning her hands and knees on the cobblestones. Sobbing, she picked herself up from the ground, hefted her bag over her shoulder, then began walking. She walked until dawn, scared and sore. When she thought she could not take another step a farmer passed in his wagon. Stopping, the farmer asked her if she needed a ride and Marybeth gratefully accepted. “I am on my way to London. Where are you headed?”

  “Arkley Forest,” Marybeth answered climbing aboard the wagon and taking a seat next to the farmer’s dog.