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

by Scarlett Osborne

  “Oh, hang the gossips!” Sophia said, tearing her hand out of her father’s to throw her arms up in the air. Her father’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she continued.

  “I don’t care what people think, Papa. And really, what can the gossips say that is so horrible? I might have ended one courtship, but I will be getting married. Surely that is enough to preserve my reputation, which you will remember has up until now remained unblemished. If you do not count my status as a bluestocking,” she added with a laugh, which her father did not return.

  “Papa, talk might spread, but they will die down eventually, and we will be none the worse for them. I will be none the worse for them, because I will be married to the gentleman I love. A gentleman you seem to like very much as well, based on the many meetings you have had with him these last few weeks.”

  “That, that is true,” her father conceded. “He is a very intelligent, careful, good gentleman. And I will say that he is a good sight easier to talk to than Lord Montrose.”

  “The waistcoats,” they both said at the same time, then dissolved into laughter.

  My Papa is laughing!

  She could not remember the last time that had happened.

  “He is a bit of a fop, I will confess,” her father said, wiping his hand over his face as though to erase the mirth. But while his smile waned, the amusement held in his eyes, making them sparkle.

  “He is. He will make some other lady, equally obsessed with bonnets, very happy.”

  “Indeed,” her father said with a chuckle.

  “All right. I concede,” he continued, and Sophia had to hold back a shriek.

  “But,” he said, raising his finger for silence. “Please, give me a few days. A week, perhaps. Or even two. Yes, give me two weeks. I need to think how best to handle everything so as to create the least scandal. I will talk to Lord Montrose on your behalf. I am sure we can come to some mutual agreement about what went on between the two of you. Something that will save both your reputations, or at least not entirely ruin them. Give me until next Tuesday, if you would, and then the Duke may call on me, and I can discuss things with him.”

  “Two weeks,” Sophia repeated.

  Fourteen whole days. Two weeks away from His Grace. How will I bear it?

  “If you can give me until then, I think we will have you engaged, and with little repercussions, by the end of that day.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” Sophia said. She stood up and walked around the desk, placing a soft kiss on her father’s cheek.

  That cheek blushed bright pink as she drew herself away, and as she walked out of the room, she swore she could see her father smiling again out of the corner of her eye.

  Perhaps this engagement will increase not only my happiness, but Papa’s as well.

  Chapter 14

  Dear Wesley,

  I have spoken with my father. I do believe it was the first time in my life that I have ever raised my voice to him, but after a bit of discussion back and forth, I think he has come to see my side of things. He knows you to be, in his words, “a good, kind, generous” gentleman, and believes, like I do, that you could make me happy.

  All he asks of us is that we allow him a few days to think of how best to handle the situation. The situation being, of course, my ending one courtship and entering into a marriage with another gentleman. He is worried about rumors and gossips, and, while I do not put stock in such things, I understand his concerns.

  He has assured me, however, that if we give him until Tuesday, two weeks from now, to come up with a plan, then he will invite you to the house. You can meet with him, then ask for my hand, and hopefully we can be married by the middle of May.

  I miss you already, and think of you with every breath I take.

  All my love,

  Your Sophia.

  Wesley read over the letter one more time to ensure he had gleaned the correct information.

  But when his eyes once again scanned over the document, he found that yes, he had been correct in his understanding during the first read-through. He and Sophia would have to be parted for two weeks while her father decided how best to handle the ton and its predilection for gossip.

  Fourteen days away from her. I cannot bear it.

  He could, he knew, in theory survive those fourteen days, but after so much time apart, he was loathe to let Sophia out of his sight for more than a few hours. Their meeting that morning, their conversation, and the embrace they had shared, while sweet, was not enough to satiate his need for her.

  Now that Wesley knew Sophia shared his feelings, he wanted their life together to start immediately. He did not want to wait, not any longer.

  But he also knew that rushing the Duke, his future father-in-law, would bring him no benefits. There was a procedure for these kinds of things to prevent scandal. And they did, after all, want to prevent scandal. Even Wesley could see the advantage in that.

  This did, however, mean keeping the secret of the engagement from his mother for the time being.

  A task that, as it turned out, would not prove to be so easy.

  The day after Wesley proposed to Sophia, he returned from a morning ride to find that his mother and a few of her friends had taken over the morning room and were requesting his presence.

  Which he permitted them, after first going to wash up and change out of his dirt-speckled clothes.

  When he entered the room, the conversation came to a crashing halt. This told him that whatever they had been discussing had been related to his person.

  Or rather, my marriage prospects.

  And indeed, as he took a seat and accepted a cup of tea, Wesley felt like he was a horse on display at the racetrack. The ladies’ eyes were scanning over him as though they were trying to decide whether he was worthy of their bets.

  He did not recognize most of the faces. His mother’s closest friends, Lady Marcus and Lady Heather, had been visiting nearly every day to keep his mother company and, presumably, aid her in the search for his wife.

  But Lady Marcus and Lady Heather were not among the crowd before him now. No, these ladies were all new to him. He had seen their faces at balls in passing, but having not been introduced to them, knew not who they were or their titles.

  “Wesley. So good of you to join us. My dear Lady Wilhelm was just telling me about her daughter, a most accomplished pianist and one of the best embroiderers of her age,” his mother told him, passing him a scone.

  “Indeed? How lovely,” Wesley said, taking a sip of his tea and buttering the scone.

  “And Lady Farleigh’s daughter is well known for her singing abilities. Positively operatic, she sounds, doesn’t she, My Lady?” his mother said, turning to her friend.

  “Indeed. Lady Grace has the voice of an angel. She entertains our guests at every party we throw, and they are always moved to tears by her voice. The Prince Regent once heard her and declared her to have the best voice he had ever heard.”

  “High praise indeed,” Wesley said, frustration beginning to build in him. He was tired, he missed Sophia, and he had a whole afternoon of business to attend to. And yet here he was, stuck in a room with a bunch of strange ladies, all of whom were marketing their daughters like they were pieces of meat rather than people.

  This is Mother’s doing.

  He knew it the instant he looked over and saw his mother preening, a look of anticipation on her face. Clearly, she was hoping he would be so swayed by the descriptions of these young ladies that he would beg their mother to arrange a meeting. A meeting that he knew his mother was hoping would lead to a marriage.

  She was like a gentleman with a blunderbuss, her eye on her prey floating through the sky. She would not rest, would not breathe, until the bird had been shot.

  Or until Wesley is married.

  But considering that she wanted him to marry a lady he did not love, Wesley supposed the outcome she was hoping for was rather a lot like death for him. Death of his hopes and dreams, his fantasies of a long
life spent at Sophia’s side.

  It made him sad for these young ladies, whose mothers were pushing them at any and every suitable gentleman. And it made him sad for his mother, too, clinging so tightly to the goal of finding him a wife that she could not see just how ridiculous her actions were becoming.

  Still, Wesley knew he could not tell his mother that he would not need to be introduced to any of these young ladies. That he had already found himself an eminently suitable young lady all on his own.

  He did not want to tell her until he had the Duke of Wellingson’s permission, until he had officially asked for Sophia’s hand and received her “yes.” Until then, he had to keep everything a secret.

  However, that proved rather a lot harder than he thought, at dinner that night.

  It all began as usual, with the soup course and full glasses of wine. His mother told him about her morning spent with Heather, the Countess of Swinton, who spoke with her about the latest fashions.

  He knew this was partly to bait him into reconsidering his stance on his wardrobe, which he was still refusing to update. However, he ignored this, paying attention to his soup, a smooth broth of beef and vegetables, as his mother chattered.

  He had grown so used to the sound of her chattering that it now formed a pleasing background noise, a muttering that he could hear but only just, as his mind contemplated other things.

  But when the soup bowls were cleared and the fish was served, his mother’s chatter caught his attention such that he listened closely, once again hearing the words in their entirety. And for good reason, as he would soon find out.

  “I am so glad you met some of my new friends today, my dear. After you took your leave of us, we were talking and do you know, Lady Auburn, the one with the frightfully dark hair, a bit too dark if you ask me, bordering on the exotic, really, was telling me that the Earl of Swinton’s daughter is in her first Season.”

  His mother paused to take a bite of her fish, and had barely swallowed before she continued. “Lady Alicia, that is her name, is a fine young lady, very accomplished. Quiet, and with a grand fortune, much better than any of the other ladies to whom you have thus far been introduced. Indeed, she is the very picture of what your father was hoping you to find in a wife. Wealthy, titled, with a good reputation, and very pretty besides.”

  “That is nice,” Wesley said, unsure where this conversation was going, but quite certain that whatever direction it went, he would not care for it.

  “I know this, of course, because I had Lady Auburn describe her to me. She is of clear, fair complexion and light brown hair. Brown eyes, and a good, firm figure, which I do believe will suit well for bearing children. I have taken the liberty of sending her a note, asking her to come to call at the house tomorrow.”

  “To meet with you?” Wesley asked, wondering what business a grieving Duchess could have with a young lady of only eighteen.

  And then he remembered. Marriage. His mother had written to Lady Alicia to set them up. He groaned inwardly.

  His suspicions were confirmed when his mother tittered in laughter, exclaiming, “Heavens, no. Or, well, I will meet her, of course, but the main reason she is coming to the house is to meet you, my dear. I think she will make the perfect wife for you.”

  “But Mother—” he started, but she talking right over him, as though she hadn’t even heard his objection.

  “You see, Wesley, you have been so slow in your search. I declare you have danced with at least five young ladies who by now you could be courting,” she said.

  “And how do you know that?” Wesley asked, though he realized the answer a moment later.

  Her friends.

  They were spying on him for her, then ferrying the information back to his mother each morning when they met for tea.

  His mother did not admit this, and instead demurred, avoiding his gaze as she said, “Oh, you know. I have my ways,” but he knew what those ways were.

  “And those ways have told me that any of those ladies would have been more than suitable for you. Indeed, had you selected one of the ladies that Lady Swinton paired you with at the first ball, you could have offered for her hand by now. Mr. Tennant could have given his approval and the banns could be read. This whole ordeal would nearly be over,” she finished, shooting him a look that made him feel supremely guilty.

  His guilt only deepened as she continued.

  “But instead, you have chosen to dilly-dally, for what reason I do not know. Or rather, I do know, but I do not hold with it,” she said, looking up at him. The excitement from earlier was gone from her eyes, replaced with a hardness Wesley was not familiar with, at least not in his mother’s gaze.

  “You cannot continue with this fantasy of finding a lady you can love as well as create an appropriate union with. Your father told you and I am now telling you again, since it seems to take some time for such words to settle in your mind. Romance is not for the ton, Wesley. Happy endings are not for the ton. We prize money, status, connections, not love and kisses and poetic platitudes. The sooner you realize this, the better off you will be.”

  “However,” she said, holding up a hand to stave off any more objections on his part. Wesley resented the gesture, feeling like he was being hushed like a screaming child.

  Why do both my parents insist on treating me like I’m still a boy in short trousers?

  Other than his love of fantasy, Wesley knew there was much to recommend him. It was partly why he was the most eligible gentleman of the ton. He was intelligent and well-spoken. He did not gamble, did not partake in too much drink, at least not in public. He was a worthy gentleman, even considering the fact that he believed in love. Why hadn’t his father seen that? Or my mother?

  “I can no longer wait for you to realize such realities. I must take matters into my own hands, as your father would have wanted. I know what this family needs, and it is not to lose half its properties to that idiotic cousin of yours. And to avoid that, you need to marry, and soon. Now, please, meet with Lady Alicia tomorrow. You will not find her equal anywhere else, Wesley. While you meet with her, I can visit Mr. Tennant and ensure she is suitable for the position of Duchess. I am quite certain he will have no objections, however. She is by far the best option you have.”

  No, Sophia is the best option. The only option.

  Feeling truly desperate, his hands curling into fists of frustration in his lap, Wesley waited as his mother finished speaking. He would object, and strongly, but he needed to be assured she would not talk over him again. She needed to get all her words out, and then he could share his.

  “After tomorrow’s meeting, you can begin seeing her every few days. I should think that three weeks’ courtship should suffice before you offer for her. Then the banns can be read, and I think a May wedding would be splendid. The blooms will be out by then, which will make it so much easier to find flowers for a bouquet. We can have the wedding in Dorset, if you like. That is the most beautiful of our estates in springtime, don’t you think?”

  His mother picked up her wine glass again and took a long sip. Wesley took this as a sign that she was finished speaking. He exhaled long and slow, letting the tension, anger, and frustration leave his body. He needed to be calm for what happened next.

  “Mother,” he began, looking at her and smiling with an ease he did not feel. “You cannot know how appreciative I am of all your assistance in the matter of my marriage. You have taken to the task admirably. Your love and worry for me is clear in the ferocity with which you have searched for my wife.”

  She preened at his compliments, clearly oblivious to what was coming.

  “However,” he said, wincing when her smile dropped. “I have found my own wife. And while she is not Lady Alicia, think you will find her very suitable indeed.”

  “And what wife is this, that you have found so quickly? One of the ladies you danced with at a ball? Have you been seeing her in secret? Oh, badly done, Wesley. Though, I suppose it will not matter now that you
are marrying her. Tell me, what is her name?”

  “Lady Sophia Appleton. The daughter of the Duke of Wellingson, and heiress to their unentailed properties and fortune. She and I were introduced some weeks ago. At Mr. Tennant’s, remember?”

  His mother shrugged apathetically. “I was in the throes of my grief then, Wesley. I remember very little from before that meeting.”

  “Of course. Well, she and I were introduced, and after seeing each other at a few balls, as well as out in town, realized we had something of a connection. A connection that has only grown stronger in the last week or so, Mother. So strong that I am sure that she is the lady with whom I would like to spend the rest of my life. I love her, you see. And I do believe that she loves me in return.”