Addicted to a Rascal Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Scarlett Osborne

  He was still thinking this when he left the Duke’s study an hour later, after another glass of whiskey and a cup of tea. They had talked about history and geography, His Grace’s two favorite subjects to read about, and Wesley walked away with two books to read and a list of others to buy.

  So this is where Lady Sophia gets her love of reading from.

  “Bersard!” Wesley heard behind him, and turned to find the Duke looking out of his study. He smiled, glad that the gentleman had shortened his title to something more informal. It cemented their friendship, showed the more intimate terms they were now on.

  “There’s another book, in the library, you might enjoy. I’ll have the footman go and fetch it for you, or, if you have some time, you might like to browse the shelves. I have a meeting soon, I’m afraid, so I cannot join you, but the shelves you desire are to the right of the hearth, five from the bottom.”

  “Thank you, Wellingson,” Wesley said. The Duke raised his eyebrow a moment, and Wesley wondered if maybe they were not on such good terms that he could be so familiar. However, just then, the Duke smiled. Or at least, he tried. It looked more like a grimace, but Wesley recognized the gesture for what it was and returned it. Then, after a bow and a farewell, he spun on his toes and made for the library.

  Sophia and Erin were walking in Hyde Park. They had in fact been doing this every day for the last week. Sophia was no longer on the lookout for a glimpse of the Duke of Bersard. No, now she walked to get away from him. She walked because being outside was the only place that didn’t remind her of him.

  The whole of her house seemed infested with memories of the Duke. The library made her think of the books he recommended to her. She had poured through half of them, but then, after his rejection, had abandoned the rest. They now sat, unused and unloved, on one of the shelves furthest from the library’s chairs.

  Sophia often felt like the books were mocking her from their perch, and so she had begun to avoid the library.

  However, her room was not free of the Duke, either. In her wardrobe hung the gown she had worn to the ball, the one that he had touched with his fingers as he caressed her ankle.

  Erin refused to let her throw it away.

  “Your mother will wonder why you’ve thrown away a new gown. Eventually the memory of him will fade, as will the gown’s association with that night. Don’t waste perfectly good silk on a feckless gentleman,” Erin had chided her just the day before. Sophia had been begging her to spirit the gown away under cover of darkness, but her lady’s maid had staunchly refused.

  The halls made her think of him as well, especially the front hall, near the staircase, when he had first touched her, first held her as he saved her from falling.

  The dining room and sitting room were frequently populated by her father, who brought up the Duke at least once a day. They were working on some parliamentary bill, and had been meeting once per week to discuss it. It was clear her father was positively enamored with the Duke. He talked of him as a “very fine young gentleman, full of good sense and decorum. Devoted to his dukedom, as well.”

  It was high praise indeed from her father, which only served to make Sophia feel even more wretched. Every time he lauded the Duke, it made her wonder—if he was such a good gentleman, why was he ignoring her? Why hadn’t he spoken to her since Lord Stilton’s? Why had he walked in the opposite direction to her at Lady Swinton’s last week?

  And so Sophia escaped to the outdoors, where those memories and questions did not haunt her. Or at least, they did not haunt her quite so much.

  Outside, she could occasionally be distracted from her mournful state of being by birdsong, trees budding, and the weak sunshine warming her cheeks.

  She sometimes noticed the feel of her legs as she traversed the path, her muscles working in tandem with each and every measured step. She tried to be grateful for this, for the ability to walk on a spring day in London, in a fine gown with a quiet, amiable companion at her side.

  Now, for instance, she was enjoying Erin’s quiet chatter next to her as she talked about her sister, who had just accepted her first position as a kitchen maid in a baron’s house in Surrey.

  “….so excited,” Erin was saying. “She’s been practicing her bread-making for months with our mother. I just fear she’s spent so much time on bread, she’s forgotten how to make broth, which is what she’s meant to be doing anyway, and…”

  Erin prattled on as they made their way back toward the park’s entrance, having completed one full circle of the path that morning. It had taken more than an hour and a half, allowing Sophia to spend almost the entire morning out of the house.

  Now, however, they needed to return. There were letters to send, and Sophia had promised her mother she would accompany her to an embroidery circle in the afternoon. It sounded dreadfully dull, but hopefully sewing, which she was rather horrible at, would be so engrossing as to take her mind off things. Distraction was the aim of her days now.

  Sophia was not so distracted as she and Erin approached the house, however, that she failed to notice the sight of an unfamiliar carriage idling outside.

  “Erin, do you know if we are expecting any visitors—” she began to say, but trailed off as they approached the side of the street. When they rounded the carriage, it was to find the Bersard crest emblazoned on the side.

  He’s here. Is my heart beating out of dread or excitement? I cannot tell.

  “Who’s here, m’lady?” Erin said, looking from the carriage and back to Sophia.

  Sophia realized she must have spoken aloud, but when she opened her mouth to explain, she could not find the words. She did not know how to describe the warring emotions within her, and besides, Erin did not know what had happened at Lord Stilton’s ball, not specifically. But she did know that Sophia was trying very hard to avoid the gentleman.

  Thankfully, this was all the knowledge Erin seemed to need, because, quick thinker that she was, her eyes brightened a moment later with understanding.

  “Ah. Well then, we’ll go around to the servants’ entrance. We can sneak in up the back staircase, and that way there’s absolutely no chance of running into him.”

  Sophia nodded, but as she followed Erin around the back of the house, she found herself wishing that she could run into him. Not to see those beautiful eyes or luscious lips. No, because if she ran into him, she could finally get the answers to the questions that had been running rampant in her mind for the last two weeks.

  Why doesn’t he want me? Why won’t he talk to me? Am I truly as awful as I feel?

  Chapter 12

  David, Earl of Montrose had decided earlier that afternoon that today was the day. He was finally going to ask for Lady Sophia’s hand in marriage.

  He had gained her father’s permission three days ago, the morning after Lady Sophia met his mother. The meeting between the two ladies had gone even more wonderfully than he could have hoped. Though Lady Sophia had at first seemed unsure, even uncomfortable, she and his mother had quickly realized they shared the same tastes in books. From that point onward, David had been able to stay largely silent, content to let the two ladies prattle on while he enjoyed his tea and cake.

  The meeting had alleviated his single fear in proposing to Lady Sophia: that he would, for the entirety of their marriage, be forced to talk to her. At length.

  Lady Sophia seemed to him a lady who needed to be always entertained. She liked to talk, to natter on about this and that, about books and history and a whole host of other subjects he found dismally boring.

  But if she and his mother got along, then his mother could attend to the entertaining aspects of his marriage. David would be free to continue to live his life as he was now. Why, she might not even notice his absences on those nights when he elected to visit the beds of the select other women he kept relationships with about London.

  Though sadly, her maid was not among them. She had ignored his advances when he made them the week after his first visit at the Duk
e of Wellingson’s residence. Indeed, the young thing seemed positively frigid. David had made a mental note then to ensure the maid was let go before the wedding. He couldn’t have her whispering things to the other servants about him and his ways.

  David did not think Lady Sophia would object to this suggestion. Indeed, she had grown rather affectionate of late. She had laughed and smiled more at Lady Swinton’s ball than she had since their first meeting, and David was quite certain she was starting to fall in love with him. He would not return the sentiment, of course—she was too demure for him, too innocent—but it was very flattering.

  It also made him almost certain that she would accept his proposal when he offered it.

  He was rehearsing the proposal in his head, trying to make it appropriately florid, as he knew she would expect from all those novels she read. He had even picked up his mother’s copy of Emma, the book he had claimed to love so much, and written down a few lines from it.

  “’It is not every man’s fate to marry the lady who loves him best’,” he would begin. “But it is mine. Please, Lady Sophia, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, my Countess? ‘It is such a happiness when good people get together’, after all, and I do believe you and I are the very best of people.”

  He was rather proud of himself for the speech. He knew it would please Lady Sophia, would give her the dose of romance she was looking for. He would not be able to repeat such gestures for the rest of their courtship—they were tedious and rather silly, after all—but Lady Sophia did not need to know that. All that mattered was getting her down the aisle. After that, their union would be sealed, her fortune his and vice versa. All he needed after that was an heir, and he would be sure to get that out of her while her love still ran true for him. Before she realized it was all a fallacy.

  An excellent plan, if I do say so myself.

  Feeling rather pleased with himself, David knocked on the door of the Duke of Wellingson’s residence.

  “Good afternoon, My Lord,” the butler said as he opened the door, taking David’s coat and cane. “Are you here to call on Lady Sophia?”

  “Indeed I am. Could you take me to her? It is a matter of the utmost importance that I see her straight away,” he said.

  He was feeling rather jittery. In but a few moments, he would have the finest young lady of the ton as his fiancée. His fortune and landholdings would increase tenfold, his power in Parliament doubled thanks to the connection with her father. He could hardly contain his excitement.

  And yet, when the butler led David to the library where Lady Sophia was supposedly reading—of course—David did not find his future betrothed alone and pining for him. She was not even reading.

  No, instead, she was being embraced by none other than the Duke of Bersard, whose hands were planted scandalously on her bottom. He was crushing her to his chest, and, if David’s ears did not mistake him, whispering in her ear.

  Behind him, the butler sputtered, alerting Lady Sophia and the Duke to the presence of other people in the room. They tore apart, running practically to opposite sides of the room. But it was too late. The damage had been done.

  “M-my Lord,” Lady Sophia said when her eyes fell on David. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, of course. I had a rather important question to ask you, though I can see now that was a mistake.”

  “Oh, er,” Lady Sophia stuttered, clearly at a loss for words.

  Thankfully, David was not.

  “What exactly were you the two of you doing just now?” he asked, flitting his eyes from Lady Sophia to the Duke.

  Lady Sophia stayed silent, though her blush did deepen. The Duke, who was looking nearly as uncomfortable, did however speak up.

  “We...we were embracing. Because we are in love. I am sorry you had to find out this way, Lord Montrose, but the truth of it is that I love Lady Sophia. I have for quite some time now.”

  David looked at Lady Sophia, about to ask if this was true.

  Surely, it can’t be.

  But rather than the shock he expected to see on her face, instead there was a look of infatuation. She was staring at the Duke like he was her most treasured possession.

  “Ah. I see,” David replied.

  And he did see. He saw just how wrong he had been about Lady Sophia Appleton. He had thought her a proper young lady, eminently suitable for the position of Lady of his household. However, he had been mistaken. Because the lady standing before him was neither proper, nor a lady, or at the very least, she did not act like one.

  David had been so excited to finally marry and settle down, to have all the droll customs of courtship over and done with. And Lady Sophia had seemed a good lady, a quiet little thing that would cause him no trouble.

  How wrong I was!

  She was nothing like his impression of her, if she could carry on with another gentleman behind his back. If she could risk her reputation enough to embrace that same gentleman in a library, without a chaperone, for any and all to see.

  It would be a pain to lose her, but it was for the best. Marrying her would have been a mistake.

  However, breaking out of the courtship was not nearly so simple. He could not do it—it was not proper for a gentleman to break things off with a lady—but she did not seem capable of enough words at the moment to properly end their association.

  It will have to come at a later date. I cannot stand here, watching them stare at each other with love in their eyes, any longer.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Well. I am glad to have found out before I proposed to you, as I was planning today. A proposal that of course will not happen, not now that you have found yourself another. I must take my leave, but you and I will need to speak again soon, My Lady, to properly close our chapter together.”

  Lady Sophia looked nonplussed and still unable to speak, but eventually, after what felt like five minutes, she offered him a small, genuinely apologetic smile.

  “Yes. That sounds the best plan of action. Good day, My Lord,” she said, curtsying to him.

  “Good day, Lord Montrose. I am sorry for the…for how things have turned out,” the Duke said, and though he, too, looked contrite, David did not believe it.

  The gentleman was clearly a scoundrel, happy to scheme an Earl out of his wife with no thought to the Earl’s feelings.

  Still, David echoed the Duke’s bow, knowing he could not give the gentleman the cut direct. Enough scandal had already gone on today.

  Turning around on his heel, David stalked out of the room, barking at the butler to fetch his hat and cane.

  While he waited for his things to be fetched, he tried to calm his mind, which was currently racing.

  You’ll find another. You’re supremely eligible, and you have the finest fashion sense of any gentleman of the ton.

  And yet despite this, he could not help feeling disappointed. Lady Sophia had gotten along with his mother. She had money and connections, she was beautiful, an heiress. She was, or at least, he had thought her, the perfect wifely candidate.

  He had even planned a special proposal to her! Picked up a book for her!

  I even read a few pages of it, looking for the most romantic lines!

  But there were other young ladies to woo, others to propose to and manipulate.

  And in the meantime, David decided, he was going to get very, very drunk. It seemed the only thing to do after the day he’d had, the disappointment already flooding his system. He would need to replace that with whiskey, and soon.

  “Oh no,” Sophia whispered as she watched Lord Montrose exit the room.

  Do I go after him, to try to better explain myself?

  She dismissed this thought nearly as soon as she had it, however. There was no easy way to explain why she had lied to Lord Montrose, why she had led him on, fooled him. And, more to the point, she didn’t want to explain. She didn’t want to lure Lord Montrose back into her good graces with fallacious stories and dishonest platitudes. S
he wanted him gone, and after what he had just witnessed, she knew he would no longer be looking to her as a potential wife.

  He was far too proud to abide his future wife dallying with another gentleman. Their courtship was over. She was finally free.

  But the scandal.

  She nearly groaned at the thought. Jumping from one gentleman to another was not looked well upon by the ton. Rumors would spread about her, rumors that cast her in a very poor light, indeed. Her father would be livid with her, or as close to extreme anger as he was capable of feeling.

  “Lady Sophia?” the Duke said.

  She looked up to find that he had crossed the room and was now standing only feet away from her. His hands were curled at his sides, and her cheeks flushed remembering the way they had felt on her body only minutes ago.