The Rogue Duke: A Regency Romance

by Kathy Heart

  “I caught a glimpse of one of the passengers on my latest trip,” he said, and smiled widely. “What little I saw of her told me she is a true beauty. Perhaps an English rose, creamy of cheek, luscious of lips, hair a crown of glory on her head.”

  Andrew turned to look at him and grinned at the smile on his face. “You sound enamored, my friend,” he commented.

  “Would that I could afford to be,” Cailean replied, “but what woman of any quality would wish to associate with a man such as myself, a common thief who can ill afford to keep himself in clean shirts?”

  “You are more than just a common thief,” Drew replied, coming to his defense.

  “You are what you do, they say,” Cailean retorted. “But I am thankful to have a true friend in you.”

  “I had best be going now,” Drew said. “Mother expects me home for supper, and in two days I must spend a weekend with the Darrows. I must say that with your description of their young guest, it might prove to be a more inviting weekend.”

  The young men chuckled and Cailean stood to shake his friend’s hand. “Let’s have dinner together some evening soon,” he said. “It will give me a reason to do more than bring supper up to my rooms and eat in my shirtsleeves.”

  Andrew Dunn, Duke of Annadale, rode back to his family seat slowly. He had no real desire to dine with anyone this evening, but being a dutiful son, he would not let his mother down. She was still grieving the death of her husband of thirty years, and though Andrew could not conceive of being in any relationship for that long a period of time, he admired and respected his mother for her devotion to his father who had, at one time, bade fair to be as perfidious and wanton as his friend Cailean’s father had been. A duel in which he was severely wounded had been the cause of his father’s complete change of heart, and he had become the most exemplary and devoted husband and father.

  The road rose and curved sharply as it neared his family’s ancestral home. The setting sun cast its ancient walls in bold relief, the battlements standing sharply against the deepening pinks, golds and lavenders of the early evening sky. He loved the place, although it was a drain on their finances. So much work still needed to be done to restore it after the devastating fire that ravaged most of it in the months before his father’s death. Andrew was sure that the devastation of their home had hastened his father’s demise.

  The butler met him at the door. “Ah, Gibson,” he said, “any word from the builders about when the rest of the work on the castle will be complete?”

  “Yes, my Lord,” the butler replied. “Shall I meet with you now, or will this wait until after dinner?”

  “Most definitely after dinner, Gibson. Say a half hour after? In my study.” After Andrew had washed up and changed his clothes, he returned to the main floor where dinner was waiting his arrival. He strode into the dining room and apologized to the assembled group -- his mother, his great-aunt, his sister and her husband.

  “I beg your pardon. I had to wash the dust of travel from me, and change my clothes before I could sit in polite company,” he said. “How was your day, Mother?” he continued, looking over at his mother.

  “I spent the afternoon playing whist, if you must know,” his mother said, “and lost nearly every hand.” She laughed merrily at herself, and everyone at the table joined in.

  Talk became general as they ate, until someone brought up the question of the house party at the Darrows.

  “We’re invited every year, but I have always found a reason not to go,” his great aunt confessed. “I cannot think of an excuse this year, though.”

  “Why have you not gone, Aunt Clara?” he asked.

  “I am more and more reluctant to leave my home for another these days, nephew,” she admitted. “Have you not remarked on how little time I spend away from my little cottage? I find that for the most part, I am coming to prefer the company of own my thoughts and my pets.”

  “Mine will be fairly easy,” his mother said before he could reply to his aunt. “I cannot leave the restoration of the castle unsupervised.”

  “Surely that would be my excuse, Mother,” he said, chuckling.

  “Not if what I hear of the James girl is true,” she retorted immediately.

  Drew’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “The James girl? Who is she?” he asked.

  “Lady Madalene James,” his sister Nora explained, “is Lady Fanny’s niece. She has achieved the age of majority, and her parents are now in search of an appropriate match.”

  “Which is where you come in, Andrew,” his mother chimed in.

  “Where I come in how?” Drew asked, his brow raised. “Is this why you want me to go in your stead, Mother? So I can set my head on the auction block of wedlock?”

  “Hear me out, my son, before you refuse me,” his mother implored him. “The girl is ready to be wed, and you need an heir, as the family needs one to carry on the name. Your visit will at least allow you to throw your hat into the ring, and if she turns out to be passing fair, mayhap you will find yourself more amenable to a marriage of affection, if not love.”

  Drew’s mind went immediately to Cailean’s description of the beauty in the carriage, and he admitted that were she to be the lady in question, and as beautiful as his friend said, he might not be averse to seeing how much further he might wish to go. Still, he felt compelled to voice an objection.

  “It may be possible that I find her less than objectionable, Mother, but how am I to overcome the obstacle of her indifference, should she find me less than palatable?”

  Nora laughed. “Drew, you have never been less than palatable to any woman since the moment you learned how to smile. There can be no worries on that front. So, unless you have unearthed an unsavory pastime, or have become the world’s worst boor, I can see no reason why your good looks, charm and wealth will not bowl this girl over.”

  The assembled relations laughed in quiet self-satisfaction that they had borne among them a winner in the marriage race. Andrew ate his pudding without further comment.

  Two days later, as he stepped down from the gig that he had driven to Cumberland Castle, he smiled at his host and hostess, shaking hands with Sir John and commenting on the weather to his dour-faced wife.

  “Mother sends her regrets, Lady Fanny,” he said, “but she has sent some gifts for your table, and a bottle of the best whiskey for you, Lord Oakley.”

  “Welcome, young Andrew. It has been a long while since you were last here. We shall have a much livelier time of it this weekend.” Lord Oakley led the way into the house, and while Drew’s luggage was taken to his rooms, and his valet settled in, he went to the study to share a bit of brandy with his host.

  Chapter 3

  “Mama, do stop fussing,” Maddi said. “You look perfectly wonderful, as do I.” She turned to view herself from the side, and was as pleased with the result as she was with the frontal vision. “This gown is delightful. Such soft materials and pretty colors. I love it, Mama.” She smiled again at the soft silks and satins that covered her voluptuous frame in swirls of yellow and gold.

  “You should thank your Aunt Fanny,” her mother said, and Maddi’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

  “Why so, Mama?” she wondered.

  “The dress was ordered specifically for you to wear this evening. Consider it your Scottish coming out party.”

  “But Mama, I have already come out,” Maddi protested, not liking the thought of once again being paraded around like a hank of meat for men to gawk at.

  “That is true, and this will be far less formal,” her mother agreed, “but the people whom you will meet this evening represent some of the wealthiest and most prominent families in Scotland. Being seen with them will be a great honor for us, and specifically for you.”

  “I hate having to smile and sashay around like a prize cow at the market, Mama,” Maddi whispered, a frown replacing her smile.

  “There will be no need to sashay anywhere, my dear,” her mother said, standing at last and p
atting her daughter on the arm. “All you need to do is be yourself. You have a beautiful face and are a pleasant conversationalist. That is far more than many girls bring with them when they are introduced to the world. Just think...at the end of the weekend, you may have a Scottish suitor!”

  Maddi managed to keep her frown from deepening. The last thing she wanted was any suitor, Scottish or otherwise. She wasn’t ready to be grown up just yet. She wanted to enjoy the parties and watch the world unfold around her. To be married would tie her down, she was sure. So far, she had not met any man who inspired more in her than an overwhelming desire to yawn. And her previous experiences with dinner parties at Cumberland Castle did not bode well for any happier result this evening. Still, she forced herself to smile and followed her mother out of the bedchamber. Her father was waiting to escort them both down to dinner, and as she walked down the stairs beside him, she felt a frisson of excitement when she heard the hum of voices coming from the drawing room. There was a different feeling in the air, and the house was more brightly lit than she had ever remembered it being.

  Buntin announced them, and immediately as Maddi was introduced to the invited guests, she found herself surrounded by young men, all vying for her attention. Her dance card was almost full, and she had not yet sat down to dinner. She observed them discreetly, and noted that none of them captivated her. She did not feel a spot of interest in any of them. Still, the party had been planned for her, and while she thought it would be the last interesting thing to happen on this holiday, she owed it to her parents to make the most of the opportunity.

  There were two places left on her dance card, and as far as she could tell, all the young men had already taken a spot...except… Her heart skipped a beat, then two, then ten, as she looked into the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. The light was swallowed up in their depths, and the lashes that hid them when he blinked were long and luxurious. His brows arched perfectly over those beautiful orbs, and they seemed to be raised in a question. Maddi blinked and brought her focus back to the room that she was standing in.

  “Welcome back, Lady Madalene,” a voice said above her, and she looked up...right into those incredible eyes again. “Good evening to you. I am Andrew Dunn.”

  “Are you a duke, an earl, a viscount…?” Her question was a serious one, as she did not wish to offend him by using an incorrect form of address. However, by the sheer amusement on his face, he thought it a hilarious one.

  “I am the Duke of Annadale,” he replied, his lips twitching.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said.

  “I wonder whether I might claim a dance with your ladyship?” he asked courteously.

  “Why, you are in luck, Your Grace,” she said, smiling widely. “There are two spots remaining…” Her voice trailed off as she realized how her words might be construed. She had not meant to invite him to dance the last two number with her, as she had no idea if he were interested in her beyond one dance. Struggling to control her deepening color, she opened her mouth to try and extricate herself when he interrupted her.

  “Then if there are no other suitors, I claim them both, my lady!” He bowed with a flourish and departed, leaving her standing there in frank astonishment.

  “I see you have made a conquest already, my dear,” her mother said in her ear. “Two dances, and at the end of the set. And by a personage such as the Duke of Annadale!”

  ‘Mama,” Maddi replied in as low tones so as not to be overheard, “you speak as though I should know who he is. But I have never heard of him before.”

  Her mother smiled coyly. “That will be remedied soon enough, my girl, if you play your cards right.”

  Dinner was announced, and the assemblage sat down to a sumptuous meal. Somehow, as if the genie of arranged marriages were sitting on her shoulders, she found herself next to the Duke of Annadale on the one hand, and the Lady Anabella Brougham on the other. His nearness was sending small electric shocks through her system. Every time he reached for a plate, or passed one to her, they managed to connect flesh to flesh, and she was seared by the heat that rose inside her and spread along her limbs and up her neck into her hair. She could barely concentrate on the conversations going on around her, and finally had a huge gulp of wine to calm her down.

  “I understand that you were waylaid on your way here yesterday,” someone said. Her father answered for them all, for which she was grateful, and soon the chatter turned to talk of highwaymen and the one they called The Rogue.

  “A handsome lad, by all accounts,” one male guest said. “A pity he did not turn his hand to a less profitable but more legal trade.”

  Maddi noticed how the duke tensed next to her, and she wondered why that was. Did he know the brigand? Had be been waylaid himself, and was he harboring thoughts of vengeance? She remembered how handsome he had been, the leader of that ragtag group of men, with his fine gray eyes and beautiful smile. Why would he have turned to a life of crime, she wondered.

  “There are many reasons that might make a man turn from the straight and narrow,” the duke said, and Maddi realized that she had spoke her thought aloud.

  “What reasons could there be, Your Grace?”

  “If he has no way of earning a living to keep his family alive, he might feel desperate enough to attempt to live outside the law,” he said. “Perhaps he was forced into it by the accident of birth. What a man sees when he is growing up is all he knows.”

  “Both very compelling reasons, Your Grace, but surely there are farms where one may work?”

  “Farmers only need so many hands to work for them,” he countered. “And not all farmers wish to employ all those who may be employable.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the gentleman across the table from him, who asked him about the progress of the restoration of his home. Maddi listened keenly. It seemed that large sections of his home had been razed to the ground by a fire some claim was deliberately set.

  “The builders have estimated six more months for the major work to be complete,” he said. “But if there continue to be unexpected interruptions, I foresee a longer time span.”

  “And how is your dear mama handling all this disruption?” This question from an ancient lady whose voice quavered like fine lace in a summer breeze.

  “She has done well, considering the mess the place was in when they first started,” the duke replied. “The west wing, which had the least damage, has been fully restored, and this is where we will continue to live until everything is sorted.”

  Maddi wondered how old he was, and what had happened to his father. There was just something about this man that made her body warm with feelings she had never had before. When the group began the first number, Maddi found herself whisked away on the arm of a portly young man with a happy grin who nevertheless had the unfortunate habit of stepping on her toes. The following two dances were with nondescript young men whose skill in dancing was a dull as their faces.

  The fourth set was with a man who seemed somewhat older than his predecessors, and whose skill on the dance floor suggested other advantages above those of the men before him. Something about him made Maddi cringe. He was perfectly polite when he spoke, but she found he held her a bit too closely, and that his grip was a tad too firm around her hands and waist. She was relieved to be released when the dance was over, and she stepped away to get herself a drink. One was presented to her and she looked up into the smiling brown eyes that had captivated her when he had first appeared.

  “That was a particularly energetic dance, Lady Madalene,” he remarked. “I pity you having to do every number with another eager young swain.”

  Maddi smiled. “And are you not numbered among the lot of them, Your Grace?” she asked in amusement.

  “I may be an eager swain,” he responded, “but I draw the line at ‘young’!” He looked around at the assembled guests. “Most of the other eager swains are at least five years my junior, and some more.”

  It was impo
lite to ask personal questions, but Maddi suddenly wished to know exactly how old this eager swain was. She felt the inadequacy of every one of her twenty and one years when she was in his presence, and yet his face was unlined, his body robust, his voice deep and strong. There was nothing to indicate his age. And when the time came for their two dances, she was sure he was much younger than he seemed, for he was nimble and agile, and an excellent dancer.

  At the end of the evening, Maddi found that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself, and that although she had begun the evening in expectation of having to put a good face on things, she had had no need for artifice, as most of the guests, and the young men with whom she had danced, had been remarkably pleasant company. Perhaps her boredom in the past had stemmed from her having been younger and less mature? It was something to consider. And perhaps this visit would turn out to be the best one, after all.