The Bachelor Duke (The Bachelor Series Book 1)

by Cecilia Rene

  She blushed furiously. A wide smile broke through the mask that she desperately tried to keep in place in front of society. He filled her with hope and a playfulness she found she rather enjoyed. Fun, carefree, and teasing her as if they had known each other longer than a sennight.

  “She’s fine, Karrington, for God’s sake put your jacket back on. People are staring,” the earl’s gruff voice interrupted the moment.

  “It is most kind of you.” Her voice quivered as she tried to erase the image of his taut muscles. A picture of him only in shirtsleeves and a vest was forever engraved in her mind. She knew she would always have it even if she did not have him. But from the way his eyes seemed to focus on her, the way his mouth curved at the corner when he teased her, all caused her girlish heart to flutter.

  Should she dare hope?

  He lives!

  The Bachelor Duke finally graced us with his presence at Lord and Lady R’s ball. It appears that he may have his eyes set on a certain plump miss. Will Lady O do what no other miss was able to do and capture the heart of the Bachelor Duke?

  Remington hid in the library, drinking with Hempstead, Lord Ratchford, and others. The beginning chords of the first set began filling the old townhome with music. He knew he could not stay in the same room as Lady Olivia and Bromswell as they danced with the other couples to La Polka.

  It took every ounce of will not to seek out Lady Olivia to ensure her safety. If Remington knew anything about Bromswell, it was that the man would never harm a woman in front of society. He prided himself on keeping his gentlemanly mask up, so the aristocracy would trust him around their daughters and wives.

  With Lady Olivia safe at the moment, Remington tried to focus on the conversation surrounding him as he took slow, steady sips of brandy.

  “I think Bromswell would be an excellent match for your daughter, Hempstead,” the Earl of Allendale said. “After all, at her size, you can’t expect a better one.”

  “I don’t see what her size has to do with anything. She shines brighter than any diamond. There’s no need for her to settle for Bromswell.” Remington spit the words out with venom. He’d never cared for Allendale, but the man’s comments only increased his disdain for the portly gentleman.

  The men all glanced from Remington to Allendale, who shifted uncomfortably from the cold tight stare he was receiving.

  “Yes … well, there have been some rumors throughout the years,” Lord Ratchford announced matter of factly, trying to change the subject.

  The current subject change caused Remington’s back to stiffen.

  If there were rumors associated with Bromswell, there very well could be rumors about him. Although, Remington knew his station and title saved him, the thought of being the subject of negative gossip, like his father, made him sick to his stomach.

  “There are always rumors with men such as us.” The Duke of Melville took a rather large gulp of brandy.

  “What sort of rumors?” Hempstead questioned, curiously. He obviously wanted to know more about the man showing his daughter affection.

  “It seems he likes to have a bit of sport with the light skirts, but I’m sure your daughter will be perfectly safe as his wife,” Allendale replied cheerfully.

  The music stopped, alerting Remington to the end of the first set. It was now time for his dance with Lady Olivia. He drank the rest of his drink in one ungentlemanly gulp.

  “Yes, because we all know wives are safe with their husbands.” Remington’s voice was harsh and bitter, causing the other men to stare as he walked past them and out of the library.

  Taking long strides down the hall, he passed century-old paintings and artwork. The townhome reminded him more of a museum than a home. Reaching the entrance to the ballroom, he scanned the crowded space for his dance partner. He found her easily, a dutiful smile on her face, her womanly curves begging for all to gaze upon her.

  Making his way to her, he watched as she politely dismissed the baron and perused the room as if she were searching for someone. Her gaze locked with Remington’s, causing him to stumble slightly from the very weight of it.

  He reached her, ignoring the increase in chatter surrounding them. He gave her a curt bow, rose, and offered her his hand. “Shall we?” She rewarded him with a smile as bright as the sun.

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathy as if she had run a mile around Hyde Park.

  “That is a lovely color on you,” he replied, trying not to devour her with his eyes. The gown shaped her body wonderfully, and he found himself stirring.

  Once again, the crowd parted for them as they joined the other couples in line for an English country dance. Eyeing his partner appreciatively, he found he did not mind dancing when he was able to glance at such beauty.

  The music began, and his gaze never left Lady Olivia’s. He placed his hand on top of hers. The same feelings he had the last time he danced with her washed over him, causing him to curse himself for even trying to stay away. Her touch felt like fresh sunshine warming his face after days of darkness. A small part of him wanted her light to guide him out of the dark hole he had created for himself.

  He was safe alone in the dark but standing there in front of her had him longing for her sunlight.

  A sennight, seven miserable days, he had tried to forget her and leave her to her fate with Bromswell. Lady Olivia haunted the back of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he was captured by her stormy gray eyes. Bromswell confronting him at O’Brien’s was all Remington needed to make a decision. His heart thumped wildly at the thought of Lady Olivia in the hands of the cold-hearted bastard. He knew he must do everything in his power to prevent history from repeating itself.

  They followed the other couples in the long queue, happily smiling and laughing.

  “You seem different, Your Grace,” Lady Olivia commented as he twirled her around.

  “I feel different.” His reply was short as they spun around the couple beside them.

  Her teeth caught the corner of her bottom lip in their grasp. Color rose to her cheeks, and her eyes avoided all contact with him. Remington loved seeing the effects his words had on her. He wanted her to know it was all because of her, this new him who went to balls and faced off with blaggards.

  When they reached the head of the queue of couples, he took her hand in his.

  “I’m glad you feel different, you were rather rude a sennight ago.” Her lips quirked slightly upward to match the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

  “I did not mean to be rude … I was caught unaware by … something.” He didn’t want to elaborate or admit the deep emotions she bought out of him.

  Remington wished she was the cure he needed to end a family history of cruelty to women, but he did not think even the magnificent creature in front of him had that much power.

  He wanted the dance to last for hours but knew soon, he would have to return her to the safety of her parents. Remington was aware they were the object of everyone’s attention, but he ignored the onlookers, focusing on the smile on his partner’s face, how her eyes twinkled with delight, how her lips had a rosy hue to them, as if begging to be kissed not by any gentleman—by him.

  When they finished the last set, he escorted her to a server for refreshments.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I do enjoy a country dance … it is delightful.” Her cheeks were flushed, and her bosom heaved as she tried to catch her breath from their rigorous dancing.

  “I find it is only delightful with the right partner.” His voice was deep and steady, as his gaze locked with hers, making it clear who the right partner was.

  “Yes, well, that could be said for any activity, even conversation,” she challenged, meeting his gaze.

  “And do you feel I am the right partner?” he questioned, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  “That remains to be seen. I’ve only been in your company on one other occasion, and then you were very much silent and brooding.” Her gaze scanned the area, and he knew she was aware
that the entire room was focused on them.

  “Well, I do apologize. I find it difficult to be at ease in front of certain company.” His jaw tensed as he tried to hide his anger. Since the incident so many years ago, it was always difficult for Remington to be in the vicinity of Bromswell.

  “Is the gentleman a friend of yours?” she inquired.

  “He is not, and Lady Olivia, excuse my boldness, but I do not believe Baron Bromswell is the sort of gentleman you want to associate with.” Remington reached out for her gloved hand but immediately stopped as the whispers increased around them.

  Lady Olivia took a step back as if she had been struck. “I do not see why that is any concern of yours.” The harshness in her voice was evident while her small hands balled up in fists. Her eyes turned into tiny slits as she glared at him.

  Remington drew in a calming breath, trying to control himself. She was breathtaking when upset. He found that he wanted her so just so he could watch the rise and fall of her bosom. The tightness at the corner of her mouth caused her lips to protrude slightly.

  Shaking his head of all thoughts about how delectable her anger was, he tried to convey to her the dangers that marriage to Baron Bromswell would bring. “I do not mean to offend you. I only mean that you should not encourage him. He is a fortune hunter, among other things, that I do not think your delicate sensibilities could handle.”

  They stared at each other, both not saying a word until Lady Olivia broke the tension surrounding them. “I thank you for your concern, Your Grace, but I can assure you it is not needed. Please excuse me, I see my mother.” She gave him a hasty curtsey before turning to walk away.

  Grabbing her gloved hand in his, he stopped her retreat. “Lady Olivia …” He searched her beautiful face, visions of the past swam in his mind, and there was only one thing he could say. “May I call on you tomorrow?” He asked desperately trying to recapture the closeness he felt during their dance. Remington couldn’t allow her to be with Bromswell or any other, and because of that simple thought, he knew what he had to do.

  Livie blinked several times, aware that the Duke of Karrington still held her hand. She could feel the stares on her, hear the hushed whispers discussing the impropriety of it all, but she couldn’t move even if her very life depended on it.

  “Will you do me the honor?” he asked again, giving her a rather dazzling smile. It transformed his entire face, making him even more handsome. It rendered her even more speechless, if it were at all possible.

  Gazing up at him, she gave him a questioning look. “You want to call on me?” She must have misunderstood him.

  “Yes, very much so, if you will have me.” His voice was barely a whisper, but she heard him perfectly.

  She took several breaths, trying to compose herself. Licking her lips, she peered up at him through her lashes. She was perplexed by his warning about Baron Bromswell. Livie wondered what reason the duke had to keep her for himself. Was it her large dowry, or was he truly attracted to her as she was to him? Livie knew she was pretty, beautiful even, but her one flaw was something that the gossips and the whispers constantly reminded her of.

  She exhaled, feeling the tightness of her gown, wishing she would’ve allowed Abigail to let out the bosom.

  “Karrington.” Her father’s deep voice interrupted their moment, causing the duke to release her gloved hand and take a much-needed step back. Finally, she could breathe and collect her thoughts.

  “Hempstead, I was just asking Lady Olivia for permission to call on her tomorrow, if you are agreeable?” Remington’s smooth voice was loud enough for their audience to take in his every word.

  “Yes, yes, of course, if Lady Olivia has no objections.” Her father’s voice was now overly friendly as he looked from his daughter to the duke.

  Aware that both her father and the duke were waiting on an answer, Livie nodded her agreement.

  “I look forward to seeing you,” she whispered, trying to find the bravado she had earlier when he tried to warn her against the baron. But for some reason, she found she had no courage, because she wanted him more than anything.

  Taking her father’s arm, he escorted her over to where her mother and Julia chatted happily.

  “There you two are. Darling, how was your dance with the duke?” her mother asked, her voice hopeful.

  “I’d say it went rather well. He has asked to call on her tomorrow,” her father declared as if she was unable to answer for herself.

  Livie watched him in amusement, glad that the news of the Duke of Karrington wanting to call on her had erased all thoughts of Baron Bromswell.

  Beside her, Julia clutched at her arms, leaning into her excitedly. “I knew there was hope!”

  “Oh my! Olivia, that is very exciting news, indeed,” her mother exclaimed.

  “Mother, please, I’m sure nothing will come of it.” Livie prayed that she was wrong. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him to desire her. He plagued her dreams at night and during the day. Yet, doubt crept in her mind as she remembered the gossip sheets and the whispered words of society about her size. Perhaps he required her dowry, like so many others.

  The Bachelor Duke could have any available lady he liked, so why choose Livie?

  “Lady Olivia, may I sign your dance card?” a deep voice interrupted her inner musings, causing her entire family to look at the interloper.

  Livie took a deep breath as she saw not one but five gentlemen all waiting to sign their name to her card. One glance from the Bachelor Duke had thrust her into the minds of every eligible gentleman. No more a wallflower, she plastered on a tight smile as she dutifully held out her arm.

  Viscount Wallace signed his name, followed by Lord Hargrove, the Duke of Summerset once again put his name down followed by a stiff bow. Then came Lord Carmichael and the Duke of St. Clara. All eligible gentleman, all in want or need of a wealthy wife. Not a single one could erase the fact that the Duke of Karrington was calling on her tomorrow.

  Livie looked over to find Julia also had suitors signing her dance card but not as many as herself.

  The extremely tall and rail-thin Viscount Wallace led Livie to the dance floor. The viscount was in want of a third wife to care for his four girls and hopefully produce a male heir. Livie smiled and asked questions about his girls, but she knew she would never agree to marry him.

  The next set was with Lord Hargrove. He was handsome, and he knew it. In fact, he commented several times on how many likenesses he had of himself. Livie found him rather too touchy with a grip that was tighter than she would have liked in a partner.

  When she finally took the dance floor with the last name on her card, she hoped no other gentleman would come anywhere near her or her dance card. Her feet hurt, and she could hardly take a sip of champagne before the next partner requested her company.

  The Duke of St. Clara was everything one would think a duke would be. He was handsome with rich brown hair and round chocolate eyes. His eyelashes rivaled any lady’s, his nose was as perfect as if it was carved by Michelangelo himself. His one flaw, which to Livie discarded all his other qualities, was that he was absolutely aware of just how handsome he was.

  “You’ve certainly become the bell of the Season.” The Duke of St. Clara stood across from her, waiting for the orchestra to begin.

  “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or not, Your Grace.” Livie smiled but resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him.

  “It is surprising, usually a flower of the Season would not be so …” He trailed off and appeared to be searching for the correct word. “Exotic.”

  Livie’s eyebrows crinkled in concentration, not finding herself at all exotic. The most exotic thing about her was the annoying cluster of freckles on the side of her neck. Relief filled her once the set finally ended and he led her back to her waiting family.

  Unlike the Duke of Karrington, the Duke of St. Clara was annoying, conceited, and rude at times. His sense of self-worth shone through every action.


  They weaved through the crowd. Livie was sure to keep her dance card hidden from view in fear that another gentleman would want a dance. She was terribly exhausted; her feet were killing her and none of her partners was the one she wanted.

  “Ah, it seems as if Karrington really is obsessed with you,” the duke sneered, causing Livie to follow his gaze.

  Livie glared sideways at the Duke of St. Clara, his comment causing her to stiffen. “Surely one shouldn’t believe everything they read in the gossips.”

  He surveyed her coolly. “No, they shouldn’t.”

  Livie smiled triumphantly remembering the tales Julia read about the duke’s gambling.

  The Duke of Karrington stood amongst her family, chatting amicably with her mother and father while Lord Heartford and Julia whispered to each other.

  “Here she is.” Her father beamed at her proudly.

  Livie was pleased that her father was happy about all the attention she was receiving from the Duke of Karrington and a host of other eligible bachelors. Knowing how her father fretted over who would provide for his family if he were to perish like his brother.

  The Duke of Karrington offered her his arm. She stumbled briefly in her rush to abandon her dance partner for the object of her dreams.

  The duke looked down at her, his blue eyes dancing a waltz at the sight of her. The look of joy at her now being back in his grasp unnerved her, because it was exactly how she felt inside.

  “Thank you for returning Lady Olivia to us, St. Clara.” The Duke of Karrington’s voice was smooth, but there was an underlining firmness to it that made Livie shiver in need.

  It made her feel like he wanted her. She couldn’t help but notice that the entire ballroom had taken note of his silent declaration by the single act of offering her his arm while she was beside another man.

  “Of course, Karrington. Lady Olivia, it’s been enlightening.” The Duke of St. Clara gave her a curt nod before his eyes shifted coldly to the marquess. “Heartford.”