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

by Violet Hamers

  Everyone was silent, as they digested that thought. Leah was sitting close to the Duke, leaning toward him, her eyes on him, waiting for him to say something.

  When Selina looked at the Duke, his gaze was on her. She felt her skin flush hot. He is not mine. What was I thinking?

  * * *

  Jasper looked at her. She was brilliant. Sitting calmly, as though she hadn’t just dropped an answer in his lap.

  “I can’t think of a single person who would do something like this,” Lord Kirby said.

  “That’s why it’s so brilliant, Uncle. No one suspects him.” Lady Selina stood up, pressing a hand to her forehead. “If I may be excused for a moment— I’m feeling a bit warm.”

  “You do look flushed,” Lady Kirby said. “Shall I send for some tea?”

  “I think I’ll have Faith fetch a glass of water,” Lady Selina said, walking out of the room.

  Jasper sat in silence, considering what had just been brought to his attention. Who would have threatened the Mortons, then stolen their valuables? It made sense that it was not someone poor—the horses had not been taken. The Morton’s pair were Cleveland Bays, which were very expensive.

  “Come, Latimer,” Lady Kirby said. “You can turn the pages while I play the pianoforte.”

  “I’d be happy to, my dear.” They moved off, to where the pianoforte was. Lady Kirby played softly.

  “My cousin has the most grim set of mind,” Lady Leah said, shaking her head.

  “She’s brought up something I hadn’t thought of, My Lady.”

  “To accuse our friends and neighbors. Any one of them might be at the wedding.”

  “Do you think, perhaps, that we should postpone it?” he asked.

  “But the invitations have already gone out! My dress will be done in a few days,” Lady Leah mused. “No. No, we couldn’t.”

  He felt as though things were out of hand. When had all these things been decided? How had they gone on, without his knowledge?

  “Who decided?”

  “Your mother and I,” Lady Leah replied. “You said—you said that her approbation was as good as your own.”

  He nodded. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “We cannot put it off,” Lady Leah stated firmly. “It would be awful. Not to mention, Lady Morton is particularly looking forward to it. She said today that it was the one thing keeping her spirits up in these dark days.”

  * * *

  Selina stood out in the hallway, her hands on her waist as she took deep, calming breaths. It would not do to be found, crying in the hall. She walked alone along the dimly lit hall, making her way slowly to her room.

  She wondered when she had started to fall for the Duke. There was a pain in her chest, at the thought that he wasn’t hers. After all, he had taken her seriously. He might not have—many gentlemen would have dismissed it as womanish fancy. He respected her intelligence.

  She walked to her room. At what point had her feelings for him increased? They’d snuck up on her, while she smiled at him, enjoying his company, clearly unaware of the danger that she’d promised Faith she would avoid.

  Faith had been right—how was she supposed to attend his wedding? She couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

  Opening her window, she let the cool air wash over her. Closing it, she took a few deep breaths, and then made her way back down the hall.

  She rearranged her face, smiling at the closed door before she opened it. Entering, she saw, immediately, that Leah and the Duke were sitting cozily together on the settee. It was like a slap.

  Chapter Eight

  The ladies had all arrived, for the tea, and to see Leah’s completed wedding gown. Leah’s heart was pounding in her chest. Today was all about her—the new Duchess of Gillingham, or she would be. Only a few short weeks to go!

  It was a cozy gathering, in Leah’s rooms, where chairs had been placed for them all to sit. After the fitting, they would move to the withdrawing room, where there would be tea, finger sandwiches, and cakes.

  “This is such a good idea,” the Dowager Duchess proclaimed. “A new tradition.”

  “Agreed,” Leah’s mother said as they all sat. “Selina, dear. You’re very quiet.”

  “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,” Selina replied, without her usual bluster. Leah noted that her cousin looked pale. That was fine. Better than fine—she wouldn’t take the attention off of Leah. Hopefully, if she were going to leave, she wouldn’t make a big to-do.

  Leah went into the other room, where her maid helped her get the dress on. She stepped out and into the room, where the ladies all made cooing sounds.

  “You look so beautiful, Lady Leah,” Lady Morton said. “That shade of white is exquisite.”

  “And how will you be fixing your hair?” the Dowager Duchess asked.

  “In a low chignon,” Leah replied. “With a few curls, framing my face.”

  “I have the perfect diamond and pearl comb that you can borrow,” the Dowager Duchess said.

  “Oh, how kind, Your Grace,” her mother said.

  “I’d be honored, Your Grace,” Leah added, beaming at her mother-in-law. She felt as though she’d finally come into her own. This was the moment, smiling at the Dowager, who was graciously stepping aside for Leah to take her place.

  Leah stepped back inside of the room next door so that her maid could help her change out of the wedding gown and into the light blue silk she’d chosen for the tea.

  When she’d stepped out, Selina had already excused herself. Leah felt relieved—for once, Selina had the decency to get out of Leah’s way. She glanced around at those gathered—they all smiled at her. She sat down with them—the ladies of the surrounding county. She was taking her place among them.

  * * *

  Selina didn’t know what to do. Seeing Leah in her wedding gown made it all seem too real. For the first time in her life, she’d felt jealous. Her pulse was thundering in her ears as she made her way to her room down the hall from Leah’s.

  It was a strange feeling, and it had come over her so quickly.

  “I don’t at all feel myself,” she said as she burst into her room. She didn’t know what to do. She felt like she had to do something. But there was nothing to be done.

  All her life, she’d felt as though she had agency. Her parents had always made it so. The world was not what they’d prepared her for. She was a lady, and only gentlemen had the final say in what happened. The Duke of Gillingham was the one with the power—to demand, to court, to marry or not marry Leah.

  She sank down onto her bed. False promises. The door opened, and Faith peered inside.

  “My Lady?” she asked.

  “I’m feeling unwell,” she murmured.

  “Is it seeing Lady Leah in her wedding gown?” Faith asked, sagely.

  That’s when Selina burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

  “Come now, surely there’s something that can be done,” Faith said, sitting down beside Selina.

  “But what, Faith?” she asked, dropping her hands to her lap.

  “Well, My Lady,” she said. “We could leave and head back to Staunton.”

  “We might have to,” Selina agreed. Suddenly, Staunton seemed like a safe haven, even empty of the usual bustle of the entire family.

  “It’s quite all right, My Lady,” Faith assured her. “A gentleman was going to catch your eye someday.”

  “I just hoped it would be one who was free to love me in return,” Selina sobbed.

  “Love is funny like that, My Lady,” Faith said. “I’ve only just finished that one Shakespeare play.”

  Selina, despite her tears, laughed at that. “Please tell me you’re talking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “No, My Lady! I’m talking of Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Dear God, Faith, that’s a tragedy!”

  “But they fell in love with the absolute most difficult person, My Lady, just like you and the Duke.” Faith handed her a clean han
dkerchief, which she dabbed at her eyes with.

  “I suppose you’re right, Faith. ‘Star-crossed lovers’ is the term they use.” She thought for a few moments, tapping her foot in agitation. “Come, Faith,” she said. “I think a walk would suit me just fine.”

  * * *

  Beneath him, Pilot was loping along at an easy, rolling canter. Jasper could feel the horse’s muscles, straining slightly. Jasper surveyed the land around his own estate, soon leaving the rolling pastures when he reached the road. His main objective was to see if he saw anyone suspicious out on the roads.

  Perhaps, a certain lady would be out, as well. His pulse raced as he considered meeting her out walking again.

  He slowed Pilot to a walk, so he could get a good look at anyone that he passed. As he rode, his thoughts were on Lady Selina, as they often were these days.

  He was fearful for her safety, with the men who had robbed the Mortons out there, still free. He considered the possibility of at least one of them being of noble blood. He couldn’t think of anyone of his acquaintance who would do something of the sort.

  Jasper’s pulse raced as he neared the drive which led to Kirby Hall. He had a very strong hunch that she would take another walk—since she’d said the other day that she would not meet him.

  Turning Pilot instead through the greenway, which led in between Lord Kirby’s pastures. He touched his heels to Pilot’s sides, urging him into a brisk trot.

  The pastures were filled—several of Lord Kirby’s mares had recently foaled, and were out grazing, with their leggy little offspring darting about beside them.

  Jasper wasn’t surprised when he saw two bonneted heads, rising above the zenith of a hill. He brought Pilot to a full stop, getting down. He slipped the reins over the horse’s head, then marched over to Lady Selina and her maid.

  She spotted him, her smile fading. He wondered what could be wrong?

  “We meet again, My Lady,” he said.

  Her eyes lowered to her hands, covered by soft kid gloves. She tugged at one of the fingers. “So we do, Your Grace,” she replied. She looked up, giving him a rueful half-smile.

  What is she thinking? What’s wrong?

  Recalling that she’d left the parlor the other night, he wondered if she was feeling ill.

  “Are you well, My Lady?” he asked, watching as her mask suddenly went up—she smiled serenely, but it didn’t make it into her eyes like it did when she meant it. The light that he’d seen there had been extinguished, and he wanted to know why.

  “Yes, Your Grace. Very well. Are you? Well?” she asked, all reserved politeness, where before, she’d been so open.

  “Certainly. Thank you, My Lady.” He fell into step beside her. “Where are you headed?”

  She pointed, to the large, ancient-looking tree that was just ahead of them, in the middle of a pasture. “We were going to see that,” she replied. “My Uncle calls it the World Tree. I haven’t seen it since I was here five years ago.”

  “It’s a monstrosity,” he murmured. He’d certainly seen it before but had never stopped to observe it.

  “Yes. It is that, Your Grace.”

  Remembering his manners, he asked, “Could I accompany you, My Lady?”

  “Do I have a choice, Your Grace?” she asked, her eyes on the tree.

  “Not at all, My Lady,” he replied. “Chivalry dictates that I do so.”

  She laughed airily. “That’s not chivalry, Your Grace.”

  “There are brigands about, My Lady, and I worry about your safety.” It was the truth.

  She studied him closely. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Jasper tethered Pilot to the fence post, then opened the gate, holding it for Lady Selina and her maid to pass.

  She was silent, as they left the little greenway in between the pastures, walking through the bright-green grassy field. The sun was high overhead, and there was a gentle breeze, which stirred the grass.

  He waited for her to say something.

  * * *

  Selina had come out to get away from the wedding preparations, only to run into the groom himself. It was not quite the escape that she’d planned, but the Duke was determined to join them.

  As they neared the ancient evergreen tree, she looked up and into its branches. It was nearly fifty feet tall. Its trunk was wide—big enough to fit a small cottage inside of. It looked the same as the last time that she’d seen it, as a young lady of twelve. She herself had changed so much since then.

  She placed her hand on the dark, damp bark. Soft, green moss coated the side. She looked up into the branches, which were laden with smooth green needles.

  The beauty of it filled her, like fresh, cold water being poured into a glass. Even the air around the World Tree seemed fresher.

  “How many people, do you think, have stood here, like this?” she wondered aloud. “Looking up into the branches?”

  “Very many, I suppose,” the Duke replied. She glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at the tree—he was studying her, closely.

  She turned to Faith, who was watching everything. Her face gave away none of her thoughts. It was a relief that she was there, to observe quietly—to stop anything further from happening. Selina had noticed how easy it was for her to let propriety slip around the Duke of Gillingham.

  Selina turned back to the Duke.

  “I imagine they all had lives of their own,” she mused. “Lived, loved, and then died.” The thought gave her shivers. A long parade of visitors, coming to see the tree, which changed little while they lived their entire lives.

  “Indeed,” the Duke replied, clearing his throat. He seemed like he was about to ask her something, frowning deeply, but then he thought better of it, rearranging his features into a smile. Selina smiled back at him.

  “I find peace, out in nature,” she said, trying to keep him on a neutral subject. Just being near him, and knowing that he could never be hers was causing a sharp pain in her chest, in the space underneath her sternum. She swallowed, her throat feeling a bit tight.

  “Do you, My Lady?”

  “I do, Your Grace,” she said. “Do you not?”

  “The country is where I feel most at peace,” he replied.

  Selina nodded. This time, however, it wasn’t true—inside, she was all chaos. A tower of cards, all falling to the ground after the Duke had knocked it over.

  * * *

  Once they had seen the tree, the two of them began to walk back, through the fields, Lady Selina’s maid trailing behind them, as silent as a shadow. They paused by the pasture gate, stopping to get Pilot, then making their way along the greenway, which led them in a gently winding route, back to Kirby Hall.

  Lady Selina was quiet and pensive. He wondered what the matter could be. It wasn’t like her not to have a steady stream of flowing conversation.

  “How went the dress fitting and tea, this morning?” he asked.

  “As well as could be expected, Your Grace.”

  Jasper paused. When he turned toward her, Lady Selina looked sad, her brows furrowed as she looked down at her hands, which she held clasped in front of her.

  “Are you sure you’re well, My Lady?” he asked. “You’re very quiet.”

  She looked at him, smiling half-heartedly. “I am, Your Grace.” Although Jasper couldn’t tell which she was responding to—that she was well, or that she was quiet.

  Lady Selina began walking again, a little faster than she had before. Jasper followed her, catching up in the matter of a few strides.

  “Will you ever meet me out here, My Lady?” he asked. “I would like to show you that mare of mine.”

  “I cannot, Your Grace,” she replied. “However, I suppose I cannot stop you from finding me while on my daily walks.”

  Their eyes met. He smiled—she had seen right through him. She was holding him at arm’s length. No doubt, in an attempt at propriety. He was surprised, though. She hadn’t worried about that before. Why now? What’s changed? He would find out
.

  Kirby Hall loomed in the distance, all of its windows watching them like eyes.

  “Will you be visiting your fiancée?” Lady Selina asked him. Her tone was measured—neutral.