by C. K. Brooke
“C.K. Brooke has knocked it out of the park for me again with this return to Jordinia. I swear, each time I hear there’ll be a new book in this series, my penguin heart flutters a little bit harder--it sounds unhealthy, sure, but oh my goodness, I ADORE everything about this series, and can honestly admit this is my favorite fantasy series to date. Seriously, the world of Jordinia is ripe with adventure, political intrigue, and humongous personalities--and I love rediscovering every nook and cranny with each book!”
-Elizabeth (Beth) Matthis, Betwixt the Pages
“Descendants has all the charm of its parent novels. A fun, action-packed plot that keeps your attention from start to finish; adorable romances you can’t help but root for and an eclectic cast of characters that put a smile on your face.... This novel is just a blast to read and I couldn’t put it down. A great addition to this series!”
-SERIESous Book Reviews
“C.K. Brooke has gifted her readers with a yet another exciting adventure, featuring brand new characters and a few familiar faces.... This book was full of surprising twists, gut-wrenching moments, and sweet discoveries of the heart. I fell utterly in love with each and every descendant in the same way I did their parents in the earlier books of the series. We traveled to mysterious lands and had new adventures but the spirit of Jordinia lived on in this book.”
-Dawn West, Up ‘Til Dawn Book Blog
“The Duchess’s Descendants is beautifully written tale following three unique love stories, each with a heart of their own. From the delightfully progressive young Johanna, to the over-compensatingly masculine Drew, to the quiet but loveable Ludwig, every character was fleshed out, complex, and endearing in their own right.”
- Mary Bernsen, Author
“... I was swept away into another world by Brooke and found myself yearning to fall back into the pages and the magnificent worlds she created as soon as I had to put the book down. I can’t wait to go back and read the earlier books!”
- Sheila Hageman, Author
“... This book was a fantastic blend of action, intrigue, romance and heartache – it had all the Feels, and enthralled me from start to finish. I loved every second of it.”
- Roxanne Kade, Author
“... Brooke’s bottomless imagination that carries the day. Her ability to build complex societies, invent believable languages and dream up bizarre circumstances impressed me at regular intervals.”
- Denise DeSio, Author
“... the Jordinia trilogy continues to offer the author’s deft blend of humor, adventure and romance, it careens down new pathways as the trio learns that, like their parents, they have the character to create their destinies if only they can find the courage to face uncertain futures in this exotic new world.”
- Michele DeLuca, Journalist and Author
“... filled with adventure, secrets and new beginnings for everyone.”
- Mythical Bat Book Reviews
JORDINIA
The Last Empress
The Duchess Quest
The Duchess Inheritance
The Duchess’s Descendants
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
The Red Pearl
The Wrong Prince
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Duchess’s Descendants. Copyright © 2017 by C.K. Brooke, https://www.facebook.com/ck.brooke.
Cover design by Amanda Matthews of www.amdesignstudios.net. Editing and Interior Book Design by Break Through Author, http://www.breakthroughauthor.com.
All rights reserved including the right to manufacture in any format, sell, or distribute copies of this book or portions of this book. For information, visit http://www.48fourteen.com.
ISBN-13: 978-1-937546-64-9
ISBN-10: 1-937546-64-0
To Juanita, who knew this was a story I’d want to tell.
“IT’S SIMPLY FANTASTIC!”
The Empress of Jordinia, Her Majesty Eponina Ducelle, stood in a gown of flowing periwinkle blue beside her husband. It was almost time to go.
“By far, it’s the most exciting treaty we’ve ever—”
“Negotiated,” the empress finished for him. When he turned to look at her, she smiled. “I know, dear. It’s only the fifth time you’ve said it.”
The emperor’s eyes radiated the same enthusiasm he’d exuded as a younger man. “New territories. Untouched islands to call ours—to call Jordinia’s.” He began to pace. “If only I could head the expedition myself….”
“Mac.”
He appeared not to have heard her gentle reprimand. But all the same, his thoughts followed hers. “And yet, I’m afraid I’m past my years for adventuring.” He massaged his beard, which indeed glittered more silver than black.
She placed a hand over her husband’s. “You’ve adventured plenty,” she assured him. “Meanwhile, you have an entire army at your beck and call, not to mention a handful of eager nephews itching to play their part in Jordinia’s tapestry and bring honor to their parents.”
At the mention of the late duke and duchess, they traced a circle over their brows in reverence.
Marley Ducelle sighed. “As always, my wife, you are right.”
She hooked her arm into the crook of his. “Come. Another of our daughters is about to be made a bride, and we’re up here discussing politics. Carmen deserves our undivided attention tonight.”
“Right again.” He kissed her cheek, his beard bristling her skin. “It’s Carmen’s evening. And we’ll see her married off to the President of Häffstrom in style.”
Empress Eponina steered him to the door. But even so, she caught his eyes lingering wistfully upon the scroll at his laden bureau.
What was she going to say, and how would she say it? Should she say anything at all?
Johanna Cosmith, the only daughter of the duke and duchess, and niece to the reigning emperor of Jordinia, shifted her weight from one heel to the other as she scanned the faces pouring into the palace. It seemed the entire city was attending the royal reception.
She usually enjoyed weddings. In fact, she tended to enjoy them a bit too much, which was how she’d gotten herself into such a dour predicament in the first place. However, she could only scour the ballroom’s teeming expanses with anxiety that evening. She was certain he was coming, if he wasn’t already there. And as soon as she spotted him, she would have to speak with him. Urgently.
“Try not to look so cheerful, Joni,” came a voice, accompanied by a hand mussing her curls.
Johanna swatted it away. “Don’t, Drew,” she hissed. She turned to face her grinning brother. “Have you any idea how long it took the empress’s handmaidens to arrange my hair tonight?”
“Funny,” drawled Andrew, circling her. “I’d never have guessed anyone arranged it. It looks as much like a bird’s nest now as it always does.”
“Oh, you….”
He ducked away from his sister’s fist, laughing as he disappeared into the throng of guests. Johanna could only lower her arm and pretend to act ladylike. Her brothers were always teasing; it was part and parcel of being the only girl born to her parents, and the youngest to boot. But she was in no mood for jokes. Drew hadn’t a clue about her situation. No one did.
More guests than she could count were arriving by the minute. She hadn’t any idea whether the man she sought was yet to walk through the open ballroom doors, or was already present among the hun
dreds of dancing, drinking and dining friends and noblemen.
“Honor me with a dance, Lady Johanna?” asked a timid voice.
She barely examined the stubby stranger who held out a hopeful hand. “It’s Jo-haw-na,” she corrected him for what felt like the millionth time. People were always mispronouncing her name. “And forgive me, but I’m waiting on someone,” she dismissed him.
The suitor went away, not hiding a look of dejection, and Johanna sighed. Not that she would’ve danced with that punch line of a bloke anyway, but she wasn’t sure she’d have it in her to dance with anyone. And that was most unlike her. Yet, she needed answers, a plan. She had to talk to….
The orchestra lilted into a new song. Johanna watched as the bride—her cousin, the Grand Duchess Carmen—along with the groom, President Lars Luther of Häffstrom, stole the center of the floor in a graceful dance. Even from a distance, shy Carmen looked happy. It was all rather déjà-vu to Johanna, who had attended the Grand Duchess Magdalena’s wedding to the Auglish prince just the year before. Incidentally, that was where she’d first met….
“There’s your man.” The murmur in her ear was discreet. Johanna hadn’t realized one of her cousins had come up behind her. Raphaela was the third of the four Jordinian duchesses. Her waist-length hair shone as black as the emperor’s once had, and freckles dotted every inch of her face and shoulders, like the starriest night. Her elbow grazed Johanna’s, and she cocked her chin toward the terrace.
Johanna followed her gaze, and her heart gave a lurch. “Thanks, Raph. You have no idea.”
The look in her cousin’s catlike eyes told her she might have some idea, but Johanna hadn’t told her anything. She hitched the hem of her gold-threaded gown and pushed through the masses, weaving between guests and ignoring those who called out to her. Unfortunately, she never could blend in. Her mane of curls made her all too recognizable, even when she wished to remain unnoticed. (Which was, admittedly, rare.)
The handsome fellow stood, as usual, among a ring of female admirers. Each batted their fans and eyelashes for his attention. His arm was draped casually around a brunette Johanna had never seen before, a goblet half-drunk in his hand. The reception had barely begun, and already his blouse was untucked.
Johanna straightened to her full height. “Lord Covington,” she addressed the Earl of Tremblay. She didn’t smile, not even when his easy laughter dissolved into a look of surprise. Reluctantly, he lowered his arm from the brunette’s shoulders, much to the young woman’s evident chagrin.
“A word, if you will, sir?”
He was quick to collect himself. He bowed exaggeratedly to Johanna and, rising, apologized to the adoring ladies encircling him. “I beg your pardon, my swans, but it appears the royal family is in need of me.”
Johanna ignored their sighs of disappointment and the charming winks he threw their way as he broke from their ranks to join her. Once the girls were out of eyesight, she grabbed the earl’s arm and pulled him out to the terrace.
“Easy! You’re going to yank it out of the socket.”
“Hush,” Johanna advised him, dragging him around to the other side of the brush. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one saw.
Johanna pressed his back against the white stone wall, enshrouding them within the tall shrubbery. Lord Covington laughed under his breath, a sensuous cackle that tickled her every nerve. As though by magnetic force, his hands clasped her waist. “Johanna, my little gipsia,” he purred, reeling her in. “I know you’re a frisky thing, but here? Now?”
“This isn’t another rendezvous, Jude Covington.” Though her tone was firm, her body faltered, softening in his embrace.
“No?” he whispered, trailing kisses down her throat. In spite of herself, she arched her neck, allowing him. “Then what is it, my pet?”
Focus, Johanna. She pulled back, forcing his caresses to fall away. She looked him in the eye, mustering her courage. She’d been waiting forever for their reunion, to tell him what was happening and to beg for his guidance, for his help. But now that the time had come, she found her throat had gone dry. She swallowed. “Jude….”
“Joni?” His saucy grin dropped. Without it, his face looked lined despite his youth. “Is everything all right?”
“No, everything is not bloody all right.” She inhaled, repressing her tears. “My cycles,” she whispered. “They’ve stopped.”
He stared at her, nonplussed.
She seized his hand and placed it over her abdomen. “More than just my dinner is in here. Do you catch me?”
His eyes finally widened. Even so, it was followed by an uncomfortable huff of laughter as he hurriedly pulled back his hand and moved away from the wall. “What’s that got to do with me?”
She gaped at him. “Why, it’s yours!”
He raked long fingers through his lustrous hair, turning from her.
“Jude?” She watched his shoulders from behind. “Well?” Perhaps he was thinking, but Johanna couldn’t endure any more silence. She’d kept silent on the matter for over three moons already. At that point, she was bursting.
“Will you say nothing?” she demanded at his back.
“If you think this means I’m going to marry you, then you’d better guess again.” The words were as biting as the coldness in his eyes when he turned to face her again. Johanna took an involuntary step back. “I’ve no proof it’s mine. I’ve not even any proof it’s there.”
The young woman was shocked. “Of course it’s yours. Of course it’s there. Why would I make this—?”
“Because you want me to marry you. You all do.” He gestured flippantly to the palace in the direction of the ladies who routinely fawned over him. “I’ve told you time and again, sweetheart, I’m no one-woman man. If you didn’t want to get burned, then you shouldn’t have played with fire.”
“Oh, you’re fire, are you?” Johanna raised her quivering chin. “There’s nothing hot about a coward who won’t own up to his responsibilities to the royal family,” her nostrils flared, “and to his own child.”
His handsome face twisted, and Johanna was shocked to see his hand clench into a fist. He loosened it, his breaths heavy. “What am I worried for, anyhow?” he snapped. “You won’t tell your brothers. You’ll certainly never tell the emperor. Not unless you want scandal brought over your heads.”
“It’s your scandal, too. And my uncle would order you to marry me. If I told him everything, you would have no choice.” It was the only thing she could think to say, to frighten him. But, though it was true, Johanna would never tell her uncle. She didn’t want a forced marriage to a man who did not love her, nor could she tolerate sharing her husband with his many mistresses. She had hoped Jude might’ve been willing to change for the sake of their child. Clearly, she’d hoped in vain.
“It’s the gipsia blood,” he muttered darkly, “tricking and enchanting men to their doom.”
Though the situation was far from humorous, Johanna laughed derisively. “Go ahead, blame it on old prejudices and superstition. There’s a real man for you.”
“What were you expecting, Johanna?” Chestnut hair fell over his eyes, and he chased it back bewilderedly. “Did you do this on purpose? Were you hoping I’d drop to my knees and propose? You know that’s not what we were ever about, you and me.”
“No, I certainly did not intend for this to happen,” she growled. “And I was expecting a little compassion, perhaps some advice. Somewhere to go, who to see.” The anger faded from her voice. “I’m frightened, Jude. If we don’t marry, my brothers will send me to a convent, I’m sure of it. I don’t know what to do.”
“You want my advice?” He frowned. “Here it is: Take care of it.”
It was a command, not a suggestion, and in it, a hundred unspoken endings. Jude Covington was never consorting with her again. He couldn’t have made it clearer as he marched across th
e terrace, hastening to depart her, and slipped back into the twinkling lights of the ballroom.
Part of her was inclined to sink to the ground and weep. But Johanna had decided a long time ago that she would never waste a tear on a lover. She especially wouldn’t on the Earl of Tremblay.
She rested a hand over her abdomen. It wasn’t visibly swollen yet, but in time, it would be. There had to be a way to hide it from her uncle and brothers, particularly Felix. If she could invent an excuse, disappear for a while…perhaps she could find someone to care for the child, and return home as though nothing had happened?
Could she, though? She stroked her stomach. Royal blood coursed through the baby she carried. Her blood. How could she abandon it to ordinary life when a title and palaces, and a place among the Cosmiths and Ducelles, was its birthright?
She exhaled. Though the conversation had gone less than well, at least she knew where Jude stood. Unfortunately, he was now much smaller in her eyes.
“Bets! Place your bets right here! Come at me!”
Ludwig smoothed his cuffs. “S-s-say, Andrew?”
His brother ignored him. “Two are wed, two to go! Which grand duchess shall be next?”
“Well, it’s obvious, Lord Cosmith, isn’t it?” someone called out. The nobleman staggered beneath the open moonlight, clearly having spent the duration of his visit inside, at the refreshments table. “They’ll be married off in order of age.”
“Ah, but will they?” Andrew’s eyes gleamed. Ludwig knew from years of experience to be wary of that gleam. “According to our sources, which include close confidants of the emperor’s daughters, at least two promising gentlemen are already trying to court Grand Duchess Benedicta; meanwhile, Lady Raphaela swears she’ll never marry.”
