A Second Chance for the Broken Duke: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Fanny Finch

  Edward Reginald, the newly made Duke of Foreshire, was silently cursing both his family name and the title he had just inherited.

  Father had been in perfectly good health. Strong as an ox, or so everyone—including the late duke—had believed.

  It was perfectly unjust that something as banal and out of the blue as a horse riding accident should take his father from him.

  Selfishly, though, Edward did not so much miss his father as he missed not being the duke.

  He would never have admitted it to anyone except for his younger sister, but he and Father’s regard for one another had been…cool.

  They had respected one another. Or at least, Edward respected his father and he liked to think that his father had respected him.

  It was impossible not to have some measure of respect for the late duke, frankly. He had been a powerful man with a lot of connections. He was a man of strong character and fortitude. A man who expressed his opinion well and often.

  Edward had no idea how he was supposed to fill such large shoes.

  His father had been a stern man. He’d made it clear what his expectations were for Edward. And Edward had thought that he’d at least been prepared for his role now that he was the duke, even if he knew he’d never been up to his father’s expectations of him.

  But now that he was the duke, he was finding himself more…overwhelmed than he had expected.

  It wasn’t so much the business side of things. The estate and the tenants were well in hand. He’d followed Father as he went on his rounds and had been walked through all the books and accounts.

  No, it was the social side of things.

  Edward had been kept a bit away from the social gatherings the last year or so in his training with Father. But it wasn’t as though he’d been a hermit.

  He knew how the whole thing went. Being the son of a rich man was bad enough. A rich man who was also titled? It meant mothers were all but throwing their daughters at him.

  But if it had been bad enough before it was ten times worse now. A man who stood to inherit could still somehow fail to inherit. There could be things that got in the way.

  It didn’t happen often, of course. But it was better to be certain. And the stern hand of the late duke was well known. Edward wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d woken up one day to find the servants packing his things up on his father’s orders to kick him out of the house.

  Now that he was duke he knew that his duty was to marry. The sooner he had heirs, the better. In fact, according to his father he should have already had heirs. Should already be married.

  How Father had expected his son to find a woman to marry when he was constantly bringing him back to the estate to shadow him, Edward didn’t know.

  But now that Father was dead, things were even more urgent. If Edward died without an heir, then the dukedom would go to a far-off relative. He didn’t even know who. His poor sister Georgiana would be destitute.

  Marriage, however, did not appeal to him.

  It did in the abstract, certainly. He wanted someone to share the rest of his life with. And he did want children. He’d always been good with children and enjoyed them, wanting some of his own.

  But actually going through the process of finding a woman to marry was daunting and exhausting. Just thinking about it made him want to flee to the Continent.

  The ladies that he met were not truly interested in him as a person. They only wanted his money and title.

  He could appreciate a lady’s predicament. It was the predicament of his sister, after all. He knew that they must find a husband.

  But surely a woman should be looking for a man possessing a disposition that was complementary to hers? Surely she ought to be learning whether a man was honorable and responsible and a good conversationalist?

  He could have been a boorish drunkard for all that the ladies of London society cared. He had the title and the money and that was what mattered to them.

  It made him sick to think of it.

  He wanted a companion with whom he could spend the rest of his life. Someone who could make him laugh. Someone to whom he could come home and relax with at the end of a difficult day. Someone in whom he could confide.

  If he married one of these woman, who knew what their true nature would be? It would not be revealed until after the wedding.

  When he spoke to them, they seemed to have no personality of their own. They agreed with everything he said. They changed personalities at the drop of a hat. They did nothing but compliment him.

  It seemed to him, and to any man with half an eye, that these women were simply acting in whatever way they best thought would get him to marry them.

  He wanted a woman who was true to herself. Not one who lied and indulged in those games of manners that played out at the balls.

  That felt like an impossibility now that he was duke. He should have tried to insist upon finding a bride while Father was still alive. That way he would have known that the woman truly cared about Edward for his own sake. Not for the money he might inherit.

  Now he was stuck.

  Edward gathered up the invitations on his desk—the reason why he had been cursing his position in life.

  The London season would be starting soon. Invitations were being sent out to everyone so that people might plan their schedules accordingly. There would be balls, intimate dinners, theatre, the art showings…

  A whirlwind few months, to be sure. And on top of all of that, there would be this young lady to mentor: Maria Worthing, the only child of Mr. Alexander Worthing, Father’s best friend who had moved to the Caribbean to make his fortune some years ago.

  Edward had been quite a small boy at the time, only five when the Worthings had moved out of England. It was for Mr. Worthing’s health, Father had said. He had always been a sickly boy but had a ‘fantastical mind for business,’ or so Father had praised.

  From Father’s accounts and from his reaction to the letters he and Mr. Worthing exchanged, Mr. Worthing appeared to be the only person besides Mother who had been capable of getting Father to smile.

  When Father died, Edward had written to Mr. Worthing personally to inform him of the news.

  Mr. Worthing had seemed to take it rather hard. However, he had also taken the opportunity to divulge his own situation.

  It appeared that age and ill health were finally taking their final toll on Father’s dear friend. Mr. Worthing was most anxious for his daughter, Maria.

  She had been born in the Caribbean about a year after the Worthings had moved there. She had spent her entire life there, in fact. But her marriage prospects were not good there. And while Mr. Worthing was in the process of setting up an inheritance for her, she could not by law inherit his full estate.

  The poor girl needed a husband, and quickly.

  Mr. Worthing needed to travel to London anyway to handle his affairs in person. Edward thought it a bit fatalistic that this man should assume his death was so certain. However, it was probably wise to be prepared rather than to be caught off-guard. Make hay while the sun shines, and all that.

  Mr. Worthing had asked if Edward could please be the formal escort for Miss Worthing for the London season. She had no one else and Mr. Worthing himself was far too frail to handle the amount of balls and social gatherings.

  Edward had accepted, of course. How could he not? It was, he was certain, something Father would have insisted upon if he was still alive. And Georgiana would have a companion for the season.

  Poor Georgiana, she was far too withdrawn and quiet. Father’s stern hand had made her rather meek.

  Hopefully a girl born and raised in a colony would bring a bit of spirit with her and it would rub off on Georgiana.

  In any case, Edward had written saying that it would be his pleasure to serve as Miss Worthing’s escort. His sister would be more than happy with a companion.

  Mr. Worthing had warned Edward that his daughter was a “wild thing” and that she would need quite a
lot of instruction regarding societal norms.

  Edward was not worried about that. Parents tended to either think too much or too little of their children. Miss Worthing could not be so bad as all that. And any faults, Georgiana would surely help to straighten out with a kind suggestion. His sister was good at those sorts of things.

  Unfortunately, agreeing to be the escort for Miss Worthing meant he had more of a societal obligation than before. Mr. Worthing had not come right out and said so—it would not be polite—but Edward could tell this was the girl’s one and only season. Her one chance.

  She could not, therefore, afford to miss a single engagement. That meant that Edward had to be at every single engagement.

  It was a rather taxing prospect.

  He would be assaulted on all sides by the unmarried women and their mothers. They did not even do him the courtesy of being subtle about it! It attacked a man’s patience, that was for certain.

  But he would have to suffer through it for Miss Worthing’s sake. And for his sister’s.

  With Father gone, Georgiana could select a man of her choice. She had already had to lose one suitor because of Father’s exacting standards. Edward did not wish for her to have her heart broken a second time.

  As though summoned by his thoughts, there came a knock at the door and his sister poked her head in.

  “May I come in?” she asked.

  Edward smiled at her. “Of course you may.”

  Miss Georgiana Reginald was a lady of quiet, dignified beauty. She had remarkably pale hair, and thoughtful gray eyes set in a fine-boned face. She looked almost like a statue when she stood still. There was a sort of slow grace to her movements, like a ballerina caught in slow motion.

  She was not the sort to light up a ballroom. But there was art to the curve of her neck, the droop of her eyelids. If a man thought to look a second time, she never failed to entrance.

  All their lives, the two siblings had been mistaken for twins. They had the same defined cheekbones, the same wide, gray eyes. The same long nose. Even the same snow-colored hair.

  Edward, however, was five and twenty, while Georgiana was two and twenty.

  He did worry for her. Two and twenty was approaching the time of danger. The time when a woman could hear others begin to claim that she was past her prime.

  It was a dangerous thing. Georgiana was quite all right for now with a rich brother. Edward would have sooner cut off his own arm than refuse to take care of her. Georgiana had been his sweet companion, and the only source of calm in the house all his life.

  But there would come a time when Edward might not be around anymore. He feared for that time. His first act as the duke was to set up an account for Georgiana so that she might have an annual income should anything happen to him.

  One never knew, though, did one? Father had been in the prime of health. And then a ridiculous riding accident had taken that all away.

  After all, Edward thought, no matter how strong a man is, he cannot be strong enough to recover from a broken neck.

  He must respond to all these invitations in the positive, for Georgiana’s sake if nothing else. She must find a husband.

  “Is something the matter?” Edward asked. He sat down and began to sort out the invitations. He had to have a thorough understanding of their social calendar, after all. And make sure that there were no two parties on the same day.

  “Must something be the matter for me to wish to see my brother?” Georgiana teased him.

  “No, of course not.” Edward smiled at her. “But there is something you wish to discuss.”

  “Only that the rooms are all ready for Miss Worthing’s arrival,” Georgiana replied. She eyed the invitations in his hand. “I can take care of those for you, Edward.”

  “I know. And I wish that you would. But I ought to at least know what I am getting myself into.”

  “That is a fair enough approach, I suppose.” Georgiana sat down and held out her hand. “May I?”

  Edward handed over the invitations. Georgiana began to leaf through them. “There are quite a lot. I should think we will drop dead by the time the season is over.”

  “There are dinners, and balls after the dinners, and invitations to join various members in their theatre boxes for performances. And none of this includes morning calls,” Edward said.

  “Well, if we cannot find the girl a husband after all of this, then I shall eat my hat,” Georgiana said. “The benefits of having a title, dear brother. No one dares not invite you.”

  “There are many on there that we might refuse,” Edward said quickly. “Quite a few people are enough beneath our station that we are most likely expected to refuse, even.”

  Georgiana nodded absently, still looking at the invitations. “Yes, but Miss Worthing is beneath our station as well, Edward. She has no title and her father’s income although good is not to the amount that one would expect of an acquaintance of ours.”

  “Yes, true, our fathers were friends due to having estates next to one another in their youth, or so Father told me.”

  “For her sake, we must accept these other invitations, so that she might also find someone who is not so intimidatingly above her,” Georgiana said.

  “Who is to say that she might not marry a baron or an earl?”

  “Well, no one is to say that, of course, Edward. But if she can marry a man of five thousand a year as well as an earl then why not introduce her to the former in addition to the latter?

  “She knows no one. She ought to make the acquaintance of as many men as possible. It increases her chances of being proposed to by the time the season is up.”

  “At this rate she will have little chance to make an impression on anyone. As soon as she meets a man she will be whisked off to meet another.”

  “Careful, brother, your bitterness is showing.” Georgiana organized the invitations into a neat pile and set them on the side table. “Which reminds me that Miss Worthing is not the only person in need of a spouse.”

  “Yes, I am well aware of your predicament—”

  “I meant yourself, brother. Not me.”

  Edward sighed. “Must we discuss this?”

  “It is your duty.”

  “I am well aware of my duty, Georgiana. Do not think that I am neglecting it.”

  “But you do dread it,” Georgiana noted. “I have seen it in how you avoid the subject. The way you look at those invitations as if they are bearers of the plague. Admit it, Edward. You do not wish to marry.”

  “Of course I wish to marry,” Edward replied. “It is only that I do not wish to marry any of the girls of my acquaintance.”

  “Then we shall have to find some young ladies who are not of your previous acquaintance,” Georgiana said. “There has to be at least one woman in the whole of England who does not put you off your breakfast.”

  “Find me a woman who is not simpering and who doesn’t say only the things she thinks I want to hear,” Edward replied. “Find me a woman who does not give into society’s habits of malicious gossip and throws herself at a man not because she cares for his character but because she cares for his money.

  “Find me a woman who is honest about who she is and how she feels. Find me a woman who doesn’t care that I have a title. A woman who would love me if I was one of those men who only had a couple thousand a year.”

  His sister arched one eyebrow at him. “You make it sound as if these are Herculean tasks.”

  “They are, apparently, for I have yet to find a woman who embodies them.” Edward knew that he sounded bitter but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Careful, Edward. It will not help you to let anger claim your heart. Women can sense such things and they are repelled by them. All the ladies will inevitably fear that you will turn that wrath on them someday if they are to marry you.”

  “Perhaps I should cultivate it, then. It might scare them off.”

  Georgiana sighed. She reached out and took his hand. “Edward. You will not fin
d love unless you open yourself up to the possibility of it. Nothing can find its way through a closed door. And I think you judge many women too harshly.

  “If you recall, Father wanted me to behave as they do. And these are women who depend upon a husband for their livelihood. They cannot enter into business or the clergy or the military.

  “Is it not understandable that they should throw themselves at you a little? That they should try to win you over? This is their entire life we are talking about. This is not merely a matter of the heart. Sometimes I wish that it were.

  “These women treat marriage as a business and in a way for them it is. It is what saves them from poverty.”