Sins 0f An Intoxicating Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Violet Hamers

  “Oh, dear—” his mother said, “they’re cutting the wicks all wrong.”

  Jasper followed her gaze to where several servants set candles into the chandelier that was now lowered to within reach. His mother strode briskly over to them and abandoning Jasper with his bride-to-be.

  “My cousin, the Lady Selina Drake, has arrived just today,” Lady Leah said.

  “I can’t wait to make her acquaintance,” Jasper replied politely, not actually meaning it. He was exhausted already.

  “She’s a bit of a strange lady,” Leah replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone’s always making a fuss over her,” she said, clearly unhappy that her cousin had arrived. “She’s going to try to take all of the attention.”

  He looked closely at Lady Leah. He took her small hands in his and looked her in the eyes. He’d often thought, in a kind way, they were chocolate brown similar to a horse’s eyes. It was what made him sure that he could come to have healthy, lukewarm esteem for her. “It will be your day,” he assured her. “Not hers.” Alas, his feelings for her would never be passion. Or love.

  “We’ll see,” she said doubtfully.

  Jasper squinted as he studied her. Lady Leah was everything that the next Duchess of Gillingham should be. She was a proper, elegant, well-educated lady. She noticed his scrutiny, staring back at him, her chin raised.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Are you happy, My Lady?” he asked gently.

  Her eyes widened. “Of course, I am!” She looked around at the room, clearly wanting to change the subject. “You know, we could have invited a lot more people. Gillingham Manor is certainly large enough.”

  Jasper cleared his throat. He’d requested that the engagement party be a small affair so that there would be fewer people to be a party to his agony: the fewer people, the better.

  “Yes, well, more doesn’t mean merrier,” he replied.

  “What? Of course, it does,” she said, frowning at him.

  “No, it doesn’t.” He felt pained. He agreed to marry Lady Leah Bowles because it was the right thing to do, according to the aristocracy. As The Duke of Gillingham, it was his duty to marry an aristocratic lady and then produce an heir. Or, give up his Dukedom in favor of his younger brother, Reuben.

  Then, he would have to follow Reuben’s orders. Something that Jasper would rather die than do.

  “The fewer people to put on a face for, the better,” he told her in a low voice.

  She blinked.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

  “Does it not bother you that we aren’t in love?” he asked, finally being honest with her. After all, why not? What could it hurt? Maybe she’d agree, and they could call the farce off.

  “No, it doesn’t,” she said, letting go of his hands. “No one marries for love.” She folded her arms.

  “Some people do,” Jasper pointed out softly.

  “Those are characters, in stories,” she pointed out. She kept her voice low, but she was angry.

  “So it doesn’t matter to you,” he said, watching as she shook her head.

  “Not at all. Let’s not fight,” she said, taking his arm. “Not today. This is a happy time.” She beamed at him. He nodded swallowing.

  Chapter Two

  Selina and Leah were in Uncle Latimer’s carriage on the way to the engagement party. Leah’s parents had sent the two ladies ahead of them. They were both quiet, looking out the windows as the fields belonging to Leah’s betrothed passed by.

  Selina was dressed in a sinfully-soft, spring-green silk gown, which brought out the color of her eyes. It had come from Paris and was extremely à la mode, with puffed cap sleeves and a low décolletage edged in delicate cream lace. Her hair was styled in a bun, with golden ringlets framing her face. Around her neck, she had a string of freshwater pearls. Her cream-colored gloves came up above her elbows, and she had a matching satin clutch and a lace fan, also from Paris.

  Leah pouted as they arrived at Gillingham Manor, the landau swiftly passing the neatly-placed cypress trees along the drive. She was dressed in cream, and her brunette hair was elegantly styled in a bun. She wore a net of pearls over her hair, to look more bridal. “I wanted there to be more people, but His Grace insisted we keep it intimate.”

  “Why, pray tell?” Selina asked. After all, Leah was the bride—shouldn’t it be up to her?

  “He’s upset that we aren’t in love,” she mused.

  “Love will come,” Selina said, smiling at her cousin. “If you let it.”

  Leah shrugged, staring out the window. “I care not.” She beamed beatifically. “I’m going to be a Duchess. Who cares a whit for love?” The carriage pulled up in front of the house. “And look at my house.”

  “As long as you’re happy,” Selina said, keeping her eyes on her cousin. Leah’s eyes cut over to Selina. Something like annoyance flitted over her features for a brief moment and then was gone—replaced by a smug look.

  “I’m very happy. Come,” she said. “Let’s attend my party.”

  Selina watched as her cousin was helped out of the carriage. She’d noticed that Leah spoke only of herself—nothing to do with her husband-to-be. When she imagined this Duke, she saw a downtrodden individual—a gentleman who would bow to all of Leah’s desires in an effort to keep his wife happy.

  Once Leah was out, Selina followed. She found herself standing in front of a three-story sandstone monstrosity, flanked by what appeared to be a large garden in the back. It was an impressive façade. A castle for Duchess Leah, she mused, trailing behind her cousin to the door. From where she stood on the drive, she could see an impressive stable, with many sleek-looking horses grazing in the pastures around it.

  There was a receiving line at the front door, compromising of Leah and her mother-in-law-to-be.

  “This is my cousin,” Leah said. “The Lady Selina Drake.”

  “Your Grace, it’s lovely to meet you,” Selina said, curtsying.

  “A pleasure, My Lady,” Her Grace said. She was dressed in an elegant gray-silk gown befitting of a duchess. Her neck was piled with several strands of pearl and diamond necklace, and she had an ostrich plume, draped over her piled tresses. “I must apologize—my son should be here.”

  “I’ll go and find him, Your Grace,” Lady Leah said.

  “I’ll help,” Selina said, trailing after her cousin.

  She entered, finding herself in a three-story foyer, with black-and-white tiling on the floor. Selina was surprised at the small gathering at the engagement party. No wonder Leah was pouting. There were few people here to witness her biggest triumph. She wondered if the wedding was going to be small, as well.

  The interior of Gillingham Manor was impressive—the walls were papered in gold, with oil paintings of ancestors and woodland scenes, hanging on the walls.

  Her silk skirts swished around her legs, luxuriously. Her feet, in their narrow little cream-colored slippers, barely made a sound as she walked.

  Large, white taper candles were everywhere, lighting up the room so that all could be seen. The candlelight flickered, making the glass and the crystal sparkle. There were large floral arrangements—lilies, white roses, and jasmine, which gave off a soft scent.

  She scanned the gathering, recognizing the few neighbors who attended her aunt and uncle’s dinner parties. She guessed that the others were family.

  Leah walked briskly, craning her neck as she searched for her missing fiancé.

  “What does he look like?” Selina asked.

  “He promised that he’d wear his green jacket,” Leah told her. “Oh! There he is! Beside Lord Sandbourne.”

  Selina followed Leah’s gaze, spotting an immensely-handsome gentleman, who looked absolutely disagreeable. He looked bored. At his own engagement party.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured, laughing to herself as she followed Leah. The Duke of Gillingham was certainly handsome—but he
looked miserable. He wore a dark-green coat and a pair of cream-colored pants. His hair was dark, and from here, she couldn’t discern his eye color. He looked like any other member of the ton—so full of self-importance that he’d left no room for any character.

  “There you are, Your Grace,” Leah said superciliously. “Your mother’s sent me to get you—our guests are arriving.” She turned back to Selina, her hand on her fiancé’s arm. “I told you about my cousin, the Lady Selina Drake.” She eyed Selina, pursing her lips. “Cousin, let me introduce you to my fiancé, His Grace, The Duke of Gillingham.”

  * * *

  Jasper felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. He reached out for her hand, feeling electricity shoot through him. It was like she’d stepped out of a painting—she looked like one of Titian’s angels.

  “Lady Selina,” he murmured, leaning to brush his lips chastely over the soft gloves that covered her knuckles. He kept his eyes on hers. They were hazel, green with a touch of honey. He watched a blush form on her cheeks. He now knew why Leah had been upset at her arrival. She was a lady who commanded attention.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she replied, smiling kindly. Her hair was golden, a few curls framing her face. He straightened, reluctantly letting go of her hand. She was the picture of perfection. She took his breath away.

  I must speak with her.

  “I must go and greet Lady Mortimer,” Lady Leah said, looking at him. “Will you entertain my cousin while I do? She knows no one here.”

  “You don’t have to,” Lady Selina said softly as Lady Leah moved through the sparse crowd.

  “It’s all right,” he said, offering her his arm. “Come. I will show you our gardens.” There was a pause. He felt his heart, skip a beat. “They’re the talk of the county,” he said. “I must insist.”

  “Don’t you have guests to welcome?” she asked.

  “It’s as much my mother’s home as it is mine,” he insisted.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Selina replied. “I haven’t got a chaperone—my aunt and uncle have not yet arrived.”

  “Then we’ll stand on the terrace,” he said. “In full view of the entire party.”

  “Very well,” she said, at last, she glanced backward. He looked around, finding that Lady Leah had vanished. He spotted her talking to Lady Mortimer over by the front door.

  * * *

  Selina’s hand was tucked in the crook of his arm. Her pulse was racing. Her skin tingled at his touch, even through the fabric of her gloves. Her whole body felt suffused with warmth at his interest in her.

  “Will you be visiting us long?” he asked as they walked out and onto the terrace, which overlooked the gardens. Some long-ago ancestor of his had put in a stone path, which traveled through the perfectly-manicured shrubs, making several neat loops.

  “Until the summer,” she murmured as they stood, looking out over the impressive gardens. There were a few people, promenading in pairs along the paths, and they were, by no means, alone. From where she stood, Selina could see into the ballroom. “I’m to meet my parents in London, upon their return from Paris.”

  “London? In the summer?” He looked at her incredulously.

  “Yes. For a week or two,” she explained, letting go of his arm to lean her hands on the balustrade. “And then it will be back to our county seat in Hertfordshire until the Season starts.” She glanced away from him, to look at the staircase, which led down.

  “Ah,” he said. “I never much cared for the Season.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, waving to an elderly couple as they passed them on their way out into the garden.

  “All of the people, vying for attention,” he said.

  “You don’t like attention?” she asked, turning her gaze to him.

  “No. It’s different—it’s posturing. I much prefer honest conversation,” he said. She studied him curiously. Those green eyes were arresting. He was not at all what she’d imagined.

  “What, pray tell, does honest conversation entail?” she asked, finding herself interested. He was handsome, certainly. But she’d never lost her head over a gentleman before, mainly because most gentlemen were after her fortune or entranced by her beauty. She’d always been looking for someone who could share a conversation. Someone interesting, but everyone always turned out to be the same.

  This—this was different. She found herself gazing at his lips—they were well-shaped, masculine—smiling at her. She raised her eyes to meet his.

  “Well, both conversationalists must be talking about subjects on which they are genuinely interested in, preferably not themselves and their titles or inheritance.”

  “You’d lose over half the ton,” she said. They both laughed. “What should our conversation be about?” She was dying to know.

  “Love,” he said.

  “Love? What about it?” She had to admit, she was disappointed. The smile fell from her face. Here he was, trying to flirt with her! Her own cousin’s husband-to-be!

  “It is an engagement party,” he reminded her, a touch morosely.

  She looked at him. His bright-green eyes were studying her with interest. Was he attempting to flirt with her? She didn’t know him well enough to tell. After all, many gentlemen assumed that she was flirting with them, even when she wasn’t.

  “Very well,” she said, deciding to take the bait. “What about it?” She looked away from him, her eyes traveling over the gardens, out to the fields, and off toward the small wood in the distance. He was quiet for a long moment. She let him collect his thoughts.

  “Do you believe that marriage should be between two people who love each other?” he asked, at last.

  “I can’t speak for other people,” she said, coloring. “I only plan to marry for love and nothing less.”

  “Then you know—” he began, and she turned to face him.

  “That you and Lady Leah aren’t in love?” she asked, pausing. She had figured, in the few moments that she’d seen them together. He looked miserable. To go any further, might be dangerous territory. She looked over his shoulder, where she could see into the house through the French doors, which had been propped open to let air into the ballroom.

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you ask?” she wondered, looking him right in the eye.

  “I—I don’t know.” He looked away, sighing.

  “Perhaps, it would be best if we didn’t speak of it.” After all, what good would this do? He was as good as married to Leah, who already had a marked dislike of her. How was she supposed to be a guest in her aunt and uncle’s home if she stole the groom?

  “You’re right, of course,” he agreed.

  “Let’s head back inside, shall we, Your Grace? Here you are, spending all of this time with me, and you’re neglecting your own guests,” she admonished.

  As they headed back toward the doors, there was a tall, dark-haired gentleman, who was just stepping out on the terrace. He raised a glass toward them.

  “Hello, there, old bean,” he said to the Duke. Selina looked at him with pleasure. Anyone who wasn’t cowed by the powers of prestigious titles was a good person in her book.

  “Lady Selina Drake,” the Duke said. “May I introduce to you my oldest friend, Stephen Cull, The Marquess of Sandbourne.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady,” Lord Sandbourne said, bowing to her. Selina smiled widely as she gave him a curtsy.

  “Charmed, My Lord,” she said. She wasn’t attracted to him in the least. However, he promised to be nothing more than a good conversation and a dance or two. Just enough to get the Duke of Gillingham out of her mind.

  * * *

  Jasper watched Lady Selina dancing with Stephen. The way that she moved was entrancing, and the way that the light from the candles fell upon her golden hair gave her a bit of a glow. She was easily the most beautiful lady in the room.

  “The party is going well,” Lady Leah said to Jasper. As per the rules of being politely engaged, Jasper and Leah
had danced two dances together. They were now standing aside, to let other couples take a turn at being the focus on the dance floor. Naturally, Lady Selina was that focus.

  “Oh, yes,” he replied, glancing at her. She was beaming, almost glowing with happiness.

  “Lady Mortimer particularly likes the floral arrangements,” she went on. “She says we should do something similar for the wedding. She says that they’re absolutely divine.”