Mending the Duke's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  As Lady Pamala began to play and sing along, all of Ella’s fears for her friend were elevated. Ella was certainly not an expert on music, but at least to her ears, it sounded very good.

  As Ella’s attention had been drawn to her friend, she hadn’t even noticed when the Duke had walked up beside her. Ella had chosen the small couch farthest back from the pianoforte, allowing the others to take the better positions for the small impromptu concert.

  After hearing about the hunt, she had not even considered wondering where the Duke was situated. Several of the gentlemen had opted to stand towards the back of the room so that they could still quietly hold a conversation while Lord Cunningham sat front and centre to the concert listing with a wistful look on his face.

  “I hope you are finding the evening better than you feared,” the Duke said softly to Ella.

  She looked up at him with a narrowing of her eyes. She really had no desire to speak with him tonight or any other night for that matter.

  “I am finding most members of this evening’s dinner the best of characters,” Ella said in the sweetest tone she could muster.

  Her distinction of some being less than desirable wasn’t lost on the Duke. He furrowed his golden brown brow in thought at her words.

  “Has someone been unkind to you?” He asked with a determination.

  “Not at all. Everyone has been most welcoming. It is only the things I have heard that have troubled me towards certain characters.”

  His eyes widen as he realized who she was referring to.

  “Me?” he nearly stuttered at a normal level of volume.

  “It is a shame you will miss the hunt tomorrow,” Ella continued on turning her gaze back to her friend.

  “That is what you are referring to? That I was invited on a hunt? I did decline.”

  “Yes, such an unfortunate happenstance that you will be unable to join in on the barbaric ritual. Perhaps if you like,” Ella continued—throwing all caution to the wind— “we can dress Scrapper like a fox, and you could find your pleasure chasing him about the house and kicking him to your heart’s content.”

  She knew she shouldn’t be speaking these words at a fine dinner party, and certainly not to her employer and Duke. Still, she didn’t care. She had little respect for anyone who fond pleasure in the pains of creatures below them.

  “I see,” the Duke stated. “This is all stemming from that first day we met. I saw the way you looked when I shooed that little rat-dog away.”

  “Shooed!” Ella snapped her head around to face him again. It didn’t matter that he was standing and that she had to crane her neck up to meet his gaze. “You kicked him with your boot!”

  “I only nudged him, and I assure you it was completely gentle and harmless. It shouldn’t be a surprise that I wasn’t in the mood for fluffy affection from that little snapper after what scene I entered in on.”

  Ella was waiting for him to make a row at her lack of propriety. Perhaps even say that she had no place scolding his practices and pastimes when she was so beneath him. She was practically willing him to do so with her mind if only to give her another reason to despise him.

  Resting his arm on the back of the couch, the Duke leaned down closer so that their faces were nearly nose to nose. She straightened her back, ready for the blow she was sure he was about to give.

  “I will have you know, Miss Ella Ward, I have never in my life treated a man or beast under my care without the utmost respect. I have only been on one hunt in my entire life, and finding it completely outside my taste has always made reasons not to participate again. I suggest you caution your tongue before you go judging people so quickly.”

  He stood up to his full height and promptly strode away.

  If Ella had been anywhere else, she would have liked to have shouted back at him. She didn’t even care that he had just effectively put her in her place for assuming things about him when she really didn’t know him that well.

  As it were, however, she was keenly aware that she was still in the house of a fine family. She had no idea if he was simply spouting lies to make her feel bad or if his words were true. Frankly, she didn’t want to consider that perhaps she had judged him too harshly or quickly.

  Instead, she pushed down the image of the man who had laughed so deeply as he held her in the library and instead focused on the one who kicked small dogs and enjoyed mutilating and killing foxes for pleasure.

  If nothing else, at least that man didn’t send her heart to flutter at the sound of his voice. Instead, he sent a shiver of ice through her body, hardening her against him.

  Chapter 14

  The Duke of Winthrope made sure to avoid Miss Ella Ward for the rest of the evening, and upon the carriage ride home, he kept his view directed to his widow, and his mouth clamped shut. He couldn’t believe mere moments before her accusations, he had wished to be in her company.

  He had actively sought her out as his sister had performed for the small party out of concern. I wanted to assure you that she had been treated right and was enjoying herself. Now, however, more than wishing he hadn’t sought her company, he almost wished she had a terrible time.

  He knew it was only spite that made him think this way. That, and the fact that she had seemed to enjoy every moment of the evening, even after their little fight. She had simply brushed off the infuriating conversation and turned her attention everywhere but to him, smiling, laughing, enjoying good friends and conversation.

  Winthrope could do none of this after he left Miss Ward’s side. Instead, he found himself stewing and steaming on the fringe of the party, watching and wishing he could forget the moment they had shared in the office just as easily as she seemed to have done.

  “You know, I think Lord Melvin likes you very much,” Lady Pamala said to Miss Ward as they rode down London’s cobbled streets.

  Though he had not wanted to, his head snapped around to the conversation on the other side of the carriage.

  “Don’t be silly,” Miss Ella waved her off.

  He noticed that her face had flushed at the mention, and it sent green sparks flying within him.

  “He is very kind, and my, can he make me laugh,” Miss Ward gave a little giggle as her mind surly wondered to the man. “But I am certainly not the type of woman he would engage his time in.”

  “Why ever not, you are fine, miss now,” Lady Pamala assures her companion. “And though Lord Melvin is a Lord, it by way of curtsy title only. It’s a shame really, they are all such a good family. But Lord Cunningham made some very disastrous choices just as Lord Melvin came of age, and there was little left to help him sustain a future, let alone, inheritance. There was no church living to give, no commission could be afforded, it was really terrible for him. If it wasn’t for Winthrope, it is hard to say what would have happened to him.”

  “I suppose he would have just found employment elsewhere. He seems a very resourceful and hardworking man to me,” Miss Ward replied, completely ignoring Winthrope altogether at the mention of him.

  He felt his hands tighten into fists as he turned back to the window to ignore the ladies. Of course, she would consider his generosity in providing a living for a man that had no familial connection to him or not.

  “Oh, it’s more than just employment” Lady Pamala corrected. “Winthrope offered him a living with nothing more than a title and asked nothing more than him. But of course, as you said, Lord Melvin is a hardworking man. He insists on being an active member running the state, well, when Winthrope lets him. The man never takes a day off either. I suppose that is what connected them in the first place as boys,” Lady Pamala finished softly, kicking his foot from across the carriage.

  Winthrope gave his sister a fleeting glance and curt smile at the compliment.

  “What an interesting observation. I must confess I did wonder through the night how two men with such seemingly different personalities could become friends and stay friends for so long. Lord Melvin is such a light to every
one he encounters,” Miss Ward comment.

  She didn’t continue the rest of her sentiments, but Winthrope had little doubt that she was alluding to him as having less than desirable personality traits.

  “Plus, Lady Pamala, I would expect Lord Melvin would have his eyes set on a more worth prize such as yourself,” Miss Ward steered the conversation back on track.

  The Duke let out a little chuckle at the absurd thought. Miss Ward’s wide blue eyes turned on him.

  “Is that so hard to believe that they might have affectionate feelings for each other? I may not be very familiar with all of your family’s relationships and acquaintances, but it was clear to me that the two were very close tonight,” Miss Ward spoke with her chin held high and in her best vocabulary possible.

  “No, Winthrope is right to scoff at the idea,” Lady Pamala agreed with a bit of a giggle of her own. “Lord Melvin has been like a second brother to me. We are very close, but not in that way at all,” she wrinkled her nose. “I could never think of him that way.”

  Miss Ward nodded in understanding and only gave Winthrope a brief apologetic look for accusing him of being in the wrong.

  It only made the Duke seethe more. Twice now, she had assumed things about him, had determined he was of low moral character, and both times when proving wrong, she had refused to admit her falsehoods.

  Luckily the carriage came to a stop in front of the home, and Winthrope quickly exited before he could speak his thoughts to Miss Ward. Still, his upbringing wouldn’t allow him to simply leave the ladies, so he helped them both down, first Lady Pamala and then Miss Ward.

  She hesitated for a moment before taking his offered hand. It only infuriated him more. How dare she look down at his hand like he was less than trustworthy in his offer.

  “I will bid you both a goodnight,” he said in the foyer as they removed their outer articles, and the Duke started down the hall for his office.

  “Are you not going to bed as well,” his sister called after him.

  “No, I have some business to attend to. Lord Melvin should not belong behind us as well.”

  “But it’s so late,” Lady Pamala said, looking down at her watch with concern. “It’s nearly one in the morning.”

  “As you said, we have an insatiable appetite for working, I suppose,” he finished with a slight bow before turning and striding to his office in long heavy steps.

  “Well, I think that will do it,” Lord Melvin said just over an hour later as he straightened up the paperwork into a neat pile.

  He folded them and placed them inside the pocket of his dinner jacket. Lord Melvin took out his timepiece and studied the hour.

  “That went much faster than I thought. I heard of a round of boxing matches tonight at Madame Flur’s. How about joining me?”

  The Duke felt himself scrunch his nose, much in the way that his sister did. Though he did enjoy the occasional boxing match and had no dislike of the betting that usually accompanied it, he did detest Madame Flur’s establishment.

  He didn’t think it right; any woman should have to lower herself to the point of selling her body for survival. The men who frequented the brothel only made the prostitution pandemic that much worse. He knew for a fact that all his life, Winthrope’s father had been loyal to his mother, and he had no desire or plans to do likewise, even if he wasn’t yet married.

  “I think I will turn in, instead,” Winthrope responded.

  He came to a stand and watched out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He studied the few carriages and pedestrians left walking the streets. Most were returning home after a long night of frivolity. He marvelled at how all these people lived so well, never truly working a day in their life, and were happy to ignore those who endeavoured so hard under their charge.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Lord Melvin asked. “You were so pleased with the start of the evening, and then you just became sourer and sourer.”

  “Miss Ward accused me of wanting to go on your father’s hunting party tomorrow. She thinks I am very cruel to man and animal alike. She claims that I kicked Pamala’s dog, but I only just pushed him away with my boot, and then tonight she was very firm to the fact that I must enjoy hunts for the torture it inflicts on the foxes.”

  “But you told her you detest the hunt, I am sure,” Lord Melvin responded.

  “Yes, and she didn’t believe me. She still thinks I am a terrible man,” Winthrope mumbled.

  “And this bothers you?” Lord Melvin said slowly.

  The Duke turned around to face his friend, who was looking at him with a confused brow.

  “Of course it does. She is false in her prejudice.”

  “Yes, but what does that matter? Or does her opinion matter to you?” He raised a brow as his face lit with a mischievous smile.

  “Of course, it doesn’t matter, per se. It’s only just…Well, I don’t like people assuming things about me, is all.”

  “Well, then perhaps you should learn to remove that constant scowl. I expect half the ton, if not more think you a bad-tempered gentleman. It would be so much of a leap to imagine that scowling face kicking puppies.”

  Winthrope darkened even more.

  “This is how I am, it’s not like I can change that,” he said, turning back to the window.

  “You weren’t always like this. That one before,” Lord Melvin knew to skirt her name, “she really did a number on you. But, it’s time to move on, man. She was manipulative and controlling then, and you have let her control you still all these years,” Lord Melvin finished delicately.

  The Duke whipped around, mouth open, ready to protest the assertion but finding he had no voice to do so. He knew he was sour because of what she had done, how she had decided him. He didn’t know if he could ever trust a woman again not to have secret motives after meeting her.

  But hearing his friends telling of the situation, he realized the truth of it. He had let her control him still all these years. He thought again of her standing outside the house of Lords. Had she been there just to check to see if her claws were still yet in him? Perhaps she had won her prize in matrimony, but she still had a hold on him too. It would have explained the self-satisfied grin she had worn when her husband had joined her directly in front of him.

  “Your right,” the Duke admitted. “I have been living half a life, all because of her. I don’t know how to change that,” he finished running a distressed hand through his golden hair. “It’s not just Pamala receiving pressure from our mother this Season either. She is desperate that I marry. How can I when I can’t seem to bring myself to trust any member of the female sex again?”

  “You could start by joining me tonight. There will be plenty of women who will be happy to let you practice reigniting your charms on them. Then you will be ready to tackle the ladies of the ton with renewed vigour.”

  “You know I am not for that. I don’t judge you,” he said quickly, “it’s just not for me.”

  Lord Melvin rolled his eyes but nodded. He understood.

  “Fine, if you won’t come, then you can always use Miss Ward for practice,” he suggested.

  “What do you mean ‘for practice?’ You rather make it sound like I am performing science experiments.”

  “Well, in a way, workings of the heart are a sort of science experiment,” Lord Melvin countered. “I just mean,” he continued when the Duke narrowed his gaze and waited for a real response. “She already dislikes you according to your own account. If you could convince Miss Ward that you are not a grumpy old beast and that there is someone worth knowing beneath your hardened shell, then you will have no problem convincing fine ladies. At the moment, I doubt one would stand being in a room with you without fainting in fear.”