His Duchess for a Day
Page 1
His Duchess for a Day
By
Christi Caldwell
His Duchess for a Day
Copyright © 2019 by Christi Caldwell
EPUB Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
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Other Titles by Christi Caldwell
Heart of a Duke
In Need of a Duke—Prequel Novella
For Love of the Duke
More than a Duke
The Love of a Rogue
Loved by a Duke
To Love a Lord
The Heart of a Scoundrel
To Wed His Christmas Lady
To Trust a Rogue
The Lure of a Rake
To Woo a Widow
To Redeem a Rake
One Winter with a Baron
To Enchant a Wicked Duke
Beguiled by a Baron
To Tempt a Scoundrel
The Heart of a Scandal
In Need of a Knight—Prequel Novella
Schooling the Duke
A Lady’s Guide to a Gentleman’s Heart
A Matchmaker for a Marquess
Lords of Honor
Seduced by a Lady’s Heart
Captivated by a Lady’s Charm
Rescued by a Lady’s Love
Tempted by a Lady’s Smile
Courting Poppy Tidemore
Scandalous Seasons
Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride
Never Courted, Suddenly Wed
Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous
Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love
A Marquess for Christmas
Once a Wallflower, at Last His Love
Sinful Brides
The Rogue’s Wager
The Scoundrel’s Honor
The Lady’s Guard
The Heiress’s Deception
The Wicked Wallflowers
The Hellion
The Vixen
The Governess
The Bluestocking
The Spitfire
The Theodosia Sword
Only For His Lady
Only For Her Honor
Only For Their Love
Danby
A Season of Hope
Winning a Lady’s Heart
The Brethren
The Spy Who Seduced Her
The Lady Who Loved Him
The Rogue Who Rescued Her
Brethren of the Lords
My Lady of Deception
Her Duke of Secrets
A Regency Duet
Rogues Rush In
Memoir: Non-Fiction
Uninterrupted Joy
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Titles by Christi Caldwell
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Coming Soon by Christi Caldwell
Other Titles by Christi Caldwell
Biography
Dear Readers,
Several years ago, I released Crispin Ferguson, the Duke of Huntington and Elizabeth Brightly’s book, His Duchess for a Day, as part of Rogues Rush In, a collection with the Incomparable Tessa Dare. My heroine, Elizabeth Brightly is a finishing school instructor at Mrs. Belden’s Finishing School, and a friend of Rowena Bryant, the heroine from Schooling the Duke…the first full-length installment of my Heart of a Scandal series. When I first met Elizabeth, I was intrigued by her character. She was devoted and kind in a place sorely lacking in kindness, and I just had to know her story.
I’ve made the decision to re-release His Duchess for a Day as a standalone title for those who have not read it as part of the collection. This latest edition features brand-new material, which includes a prologue and epilogue. I hope you enjoy the book, along with these added moments with Crispin and Elizabeth!
Happy Reading!
Hugs
Christi Caldwell
Prologue
“You are magnificent and strong. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you do. And you have completely and utterly fascinated me.”
“Thank you.”
Sprawled on her stomach, her legs flipped up behind her, Elizabeth brightly glanced back at her intruder.
Fourteen-year-old Crispin Ferguson, the future Duke of Huntington and the current Marquess of Lothian, grinned back.
With a frown, Elizabeth pushed her spectacles back into place. “Do hush, Crispin. I’m not speaking to you.” Redirecting her attention to the duke’s lush blanket of grass, Elizabeth scanned the earth. “Where are you? Where are you?” she muttered.
“If I were most boys, I would be offended by your singular attention.”
“You’re not ‘most boys’, Crispin,” she said under her breath, using his name with an ease and familiarity that came from their lengthy friendship. It was also an unlikely friendship between Elizabeth, a mere merchant’s daughter, and Crispin’s father.
“Thank you,” he repeated once again.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” she explained, without malice. “You are a duke’s son and therefore live an altogether different existence in every way than…well, everyone else. I’m merely stating the obvious facts.”
“Of which you are always in possession of.”
She smiled. “Of which we are always in possession of.”
Their shared love of academia had cemented their friendship early on. They’d been united in their love of the peculiarity and science and all things in between, since.
Just then, Elizabeth caught a flicker of movement. “There he is,” she said, excitedly. Digging her elbows into the ground, Elizabeth dragged herself closer to the magnificent specimen she’d allowed her attentions to be diverted away from.
Her spectacles slipped from her face, and tumbled to the ground. The whole world blurred before her. Frantic, she felt around; searching, searching…
A pair of blurred limbs came into direct line with her vision. “Here,” Crispin murmured. “I have them.” He made to take a step, and she cried out.
Propelling herself up, Elizabeth launched herself. “Don’t!”
“What—?” That question was abruptly cut off as she slammed into his side.
>
They came down hard on the earth.
Or rather, Crispin did.
He grunted.
Alas, her fall was softened by his wiry frame. Wincing, he rubbed at the back of his head. “What about all the ‘you’re a future duke and different business’ of before?” he mumbled. “Isn’t that enough to protect a boy from being knocked off-balance?”
Elizabeth shimmied up his taller frame until their noses touched. Without her spectacles, his face remained vague before her, and yet, his features were as familiar and more cherished than even her own. “You were going to hurt him.”
Together, they turned their heads off toward where Elizabeth had been focused moments ago. “Ah, your latest love,” he said, with a dawning understanding. He unfurled his palm and metal gleamed bright. “Here,” he murmured, and, as he’d done so many times before, set her spectacles upon her nose…and the world was clear once more.
“He’s ever so magnificent, Crispin,” she said, excitement making her trip over her words. “He’s—”
“Strong, and has you utterly fascinated, and hard-working. Not at all like any duke or duke’s son, I know. I really must meet him.”
“Oh, hush.” She caught his hand, and tugged him forward. “You’re never one to search for compliments.” Unlike the other boys his age who came as guests to the Duke and Duchess.
“I was teasing,” he said as he let himself be dragged along.
“This isn’t a time for teasing, Crispin.” Elizabeth abruptly stopped, and held a palm up to keep Crispin still at her side. “He is over there.” She pointed to the cluster of rocks arranged in a neat circle upon the ground. Her stomach sank. “Or he was. I’m not certain how fast he’s able to move…” Dropping to her knees, she ever-so-slowly, and ever-so-carefully scoured the earth. And then she spied him. Her heart sped up. “He’s here.”
From the corner of her eyes, she caught Crispin’s ginger steps as he joined her.
He drew himself to rest beside her.
She glanced over.
Crispin remained wholly engrossed on the insect. His keen eyes didn’t blink and didn’t waver from the ant, meandering a path with a burden upon its tiny back. “He is magnificent,” he whispered, as though he’d forgotten her.
And that adoration, that love of nature and science was one she well-knew and appreciated and understood. It was a shared love. Where the other children in the village had long-teased Elizabeth for her peculiar interests, Crispin had not only defended her, he’d joined in her exploration.
“Why, it’s carrying a—”
“Spider,” she excitedly cut him off. “And it is so much bigger than him, too.”
“Do you suppose he killed it?”
“I didn’t see,” she said, shaking her head. “I saw the spider moving in the oddest way, and then realized it was in fact dead, and the ant was responsible for that movement.”
“Amazing,” Crispin whispered.
She looked over at her friend once again, to say…something about their discovery, but that thought became lost. All thoughts were lost.
At eleven—nearly twelve—years of age, she’d not really given much thought to Crispin…or any boy. Not really. Boys were…well, they were just boys. As girls were girls. And aside being curious about how boys and girls were physically different, she’d not given much attention to the fact that Crispin really was quite…handsome.
It was of course, a purely scientific discovery. His hair was ever so dark; black like the scrap of coal they’d once conducted experiments upon. And he had a nose very similar to the marble statues she’d admired in the duke’s gardens. The duke’s naked statues.
She wrinkled her nose. Of course, she’d seen Crispin’s naked form many times when they’d swam together. It wasn’t at all beautiful or fascinating. And yet, his face was.
“She needs a name,” Crispin was saying.
“Yes. He does.” As was their custom, the subjects of their studies were all properly named and classified for scientific purposes.
Crispin turned his head so abruptly, their noses nearly brushed. “What makes you so very certain it is male?”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. “I…” She’d simply been of the first and immediate assumption that the ant was in fact, male.
“It is resourceful, skillful, and focused.” He smiled slowly. “I may as well be describing you, Elizabeth Brightly.”
An answering smile formed on her lips, and Elizabeth lightly shoved her shoulder into his. “You’re funning me.”
“You know I’m rubbish at funning you.” His eyes twinkled. “I am however, skillful in speaking facts.”
Together, they looked down at the creature.
“We have to bring Brightly with us.”
“Bring her…?” Having gone off to Eton, Crispin was hardly around anymore. When he’d first left, she’d been green with jealousy. She’d thought of all he’d learn, and all she’d not learn in his absence. It hadn’t been until the carriage had pulled away, and he’d left, that she’d realized just how great the hole was when Crispin was gone. “She can’t go to Eton.”
“Not Eton. Here. At least for the summer.” Crispin sat up and fished around inside his jacket. He withdrew the same small glass container he’d always carried. How many plants and flowers and insects they’d placed inside, and then studied closer to the manor. Only, the moment they trapped their discovery, its life would be forever altered…just as hers had been when Crispin had gone. The poor creature would find himself as lost as Elizabeth was; a fish, out of water.
Crispin lowered the cylindrical tube to gather up Brightly.
Brightly who was named for Elizabeth, who’d be trapped away in a place where she didn’t fit or belong or want to be.
“No!”
As Elizabeth’s cry echoed around the Oxfordshire countryside, Crispin stopped.
“You can’t.”
Crispin’s sun-bronzed brow furrowed. “But…”
“She doesn’t belong to us, Crispin,” she said softly. “Who are we to take her from her home and her happiness, and bring her a place where she doesn’t wish to be, all to satisfy our whims.” She grimaced. “It’s a horrible fate, I’d wish upon no one.” And certainly not a beautiful creature like the hard-working lady ant before them.
“But we’ve always done that,” he said, in the same tones he used when they worked on a complicated puzzle.
“Yes. But that doesn’t make it right.” Elizabeth focused upon Brightly hard at work.
“You are the cleverest person I know,” he said softly. “I swear I’m going to marry you one day, Elizabeth Brightly.”
Laughing, Elizabeth didn’t pick her gaze up from the lone ant carrying a crumb larger than his own size. “You’re silly, Crispin Ferguson,” she murmured, pressing her face closer to the earth. “You cannot marry me.”
“And why not?” he demanded, the affront in his four-and-ten-year-old voice bringing her gaze up. “I can marry whomever I wish.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Clever as she was, she knew quite well that duke’s sons certainly didn’t marry the daughters of merchants. Even if those merchants were friends with the duke. “No, you cannot. Your mother wouldn’t let you. You have to marry a fancy lady like Lady Dorinda, who curtsies real nicely and doesn’t track mud through your halls.” As soon as she said it, Elizabeth got a disgusting taste in her mouth. She quite despised the idea of Crispin marrying Lady Dorinda. Lady Dorinda would never look at ants with him.
Crispin smiled slowly. “We shall see, Elizabeth Brightly.”
Life as a duchess? Wearing fancy dresses and having fancy tea and entertaining equally fancy guests. A duchess was the last thing in the whole world Elizabeth wished to be.
Except… if being a duchess allowed her spend forever with Crispin…she might just let him talk her in to marriage.
She studied him. With his notepad out, and a pencil in hand, he was fully engrossed in recording notes on their latest d
iscovery.
Elizabeth sighed.
Yes, life with Crispin would be worth the miseries that went with being a fancy lady.
Of that, Elizabeth Brightly was most certain.
Chapter 1
Surrey, England
1821
To all those in Wallingford, Mrs. Elizabeth Terry was just any other miserable dragon at Mrs. Belden’s Finishing School. Her days consisted of instructing equally miserable students on ladylike deportment and skills to catch a husband. And then beginning those same lessons in the following days for other young women unfortunate enough to find themselves students in this dreary place.
The irony was never lost on any that the leading ladies of Society who were in this establishment received lessons from women who had a false “Mrs.” attached to their names to create an air of respectability. When the truth was, they were all nothing more than spinsters or poor women required to work to survive.
Well, not all of them.
“Why should we possibly take lessons on husband hunting from her?”
Standing at the front of the parlor that served as a classroom, Elizabeth’s cheeks burned hot under that less-than-discreet whisper.
At six and twenty, however, and on her own for more years than any person ought, she was made of far sterner stuff. “What was that?” she challenged, the remarkable cool of her tone hopelessly ruined as her wire-rimmed spectacles slipped down her nose.
The other young ladies seated beside the habitual insulter, Lady Claire Moore, all fell silent, diverting their stares to their laps.
A duke’s daughter and goddaughter to the queen, Lady Claire had an icy demeanor that all the instructors at Mrs. Belden’s and the harpy headmistress herself couldn’t muster. “Marriage,” the ten-and-seven-year-old student drawled out in slow, enunciated syllables.
The girl at her side giggled and then swiftly concealed that expression of her mirth.
Lady Claire scraped a condescending stare over Elizabeth, lingering her focus on the gray skirts. Gray skirts that hung large on Elizabeth’s small, shapeless frame. “I asked how you could possibly instruct us on how to find a husband.”