My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1)

by Julie Johnstone

  Colin scowled. He was going to have to be a husband thanks to his father, but he’d never be besotted or loving. Loyal, yes. Besotted, no. “It’s entirely too bad you were born a lord, Harthorne, and have lands to be tended and women to be fed. You and all your sappy thoughts are much more suited to the life of a poet.”

  “For once, I could not agree more. But then, we all have obligations that dictate our lives, don’t we?”

  Colin immediately thought of his father’s damned will, which he did not want to discuss right now.

  “What happened to your sister?” he asked, wishing to hear the details and to turn the subject. “She looked livid.”

  “Oh, she is. She says Lady Georgiana shoved her in the lake at the picnic and then pretended she had not. It seems the two of them both have their hearts set on catching Worthington, and Amelia is fuming that Worthington―in her words―is acting like a puppet, allowing his mother to pull his strings and forgetting that he is better suited to have a wife with brains than a lovely face.”

  “All men are fools,” Colin replied. “Worthington more than others. And apparently he is blind if he does not see how lovely your sister is.”

  “You are slipping again, Aversley. Before long, everyone will know you for a good man like I do.”

  The muscles in Colin’s neck bunched under Harthorne’s words and not-so-hidden scrutiny.

  “You know,” Harthorne said, “we could pay Worthington a visit. Perhaps the two of you could clear the tension between you.”

  “I’d rather have my eyes gouged by a vulture.”

  “That’s harsh,” Harthorne said. “He may be more inclined to believe you now than he was when we were all foolish young Cambridge men.”

  “I was never foolish or young, and I doubt Worthington would be more apt to believe me now. Besides, he was correct in his accusations, so there is nothing left to say. I’m not a good man. I’ve told you that for years.”

  Harthorne stopped walking toward the house and faced Colin. “The simple fact that you say you are not decent makes you so. I know you never slept with Lady Eleanor, as Worthington accused you.”

  “I did sleep with her,” Colin said, rubbing the back of his neck where his muscles were twitching. “But when I realized she was the lady that Worthington cared for, I immediately put a stop to our affair.”

  Harthorne gripped Colin on the shoulder. “Still. You did not know he cared for her, and it’s not your fault she fancied you over him.”

  Colin laughed. “She fancied whoever had the most blunt and best position in Society to offer her. When she realized I was offering nothing but a temporary spot in my bed, she no longer fancied me. Unfortunately for Worthington, I learned she was also sleeping with another fellow at the same time as she was warming my bed, and magically, he quickly took my place in her heart. Worthington never stood a chance with her.”

  Harthorne suddenly stopped, and Colin realized they stood in the threshold to the dining room. Dare he hope they were going to be fed?

  Harthorne motioned to a chair. “Our cook’s mother took ill, and being the only servant left in my employment we have had to make due for the last week.”

  Colin nodded, not sure whether he believed his friend still employed a cook at all, but prying and embarrassing him was out of the question. “Has your Mother been doing the cooking?”

  Harthorne frowned. “Amelia mostly. She can cook eggs. Cook taught her the night before she left. To see to her mother,” he added hastily, almost as if an afterthought.

  At the sound of pans being clanked together in the kitchen, Colin asked, “Your sister?”

  “Undoubtedly. She is just as graceless in the kitchen as she is everywhere else. Yet somehow, her eggs turn out delicious.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his leg. “I want you to take a loan from me.”

  “No,” Harthorne replied, his tone dark, his face even darker.

  Colin had expected this, so he was prepared to argue his case. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Listen to me. You cannot even afford to buy your sister a pair of kid boots that do not have holes in them. How will you afford to keep the estate running and pay your debts until your crops are ready to be sold?”

  “I’ll afford it somehow,” Harthorne snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word about you loaning me money. If you cannot abide my wishes I’ll consider that your way of telling me you no longer want to be friends.”

  Colin locked gazes with Harthorne, positive his friend was recalling, as Colin was, the time years ago on the boat at Colin’s birthday when Colin had uttered similar words, except his had been in reference to Harthorne never mentioning Scarsdale’s name to Colin again. Harthorne had abided Colin’s wishes, but this was different. Harthorne needed help.

  His friend was a stubborn and proud man. It was something to be both pitied and admired. Leaning back, Colin sighed and rested one ankle over the other as he thought. This tactic wasn’t going to work. Harthorne would never take money from him, no matter the terms. He had to find a way to make Harthorne think he was not taking the money for himself. “I have something else to say.”

  Harthorne raised his eyebrows. “Is this another lecture regarding Lady Mary?”

  “Does it need to be?” Colin inquired, praying his friend had come to his senses about Lady Mary.

  “No. I decided while I rested that I don’t want a woman for my wife who prefers money to love.”

  “Then you should not take a wife,” Colin replied with a scowl. “All women prefer money to love. Or at least women who think they can capture a man with plenty of blunt.”

  “No,” Harthorne growled. “You’re wrong. My mother married for love. My sister will marry for love.”

  Anger flared through Colin at Harthorne’s willful ignorance. If his friend kept this line of thinking, it was going to be all too easy for a woman to wield power over him. “Your sister cannot afford to marry for love. Damnation, man, do you even have a dowry for her?”

  Harthorne grew still, and a twitch started at the right side of his temple. After a moment, he rubbed it while shaking his head. “No. Devil take it. Nor can I afford to send her to London for a Season so she can chase after Worthington and win him over. He’ll likely marry Lady Georgiana and then Amelia will be heartbroken. She thinks she loves Worthington and has thought so since she was eight. Silly girl would pick him even if―” Harthorne tugged a hand through his hair, his gaze settling firmly on Colin. “―even if you offered for her.”

  Colin’s mind raced at the pronouncement, and like a flash of light the best plan came to him, all laid out nice and simple. He knew how he could help Harthorne. Quickly, he thought through the idea. If he could not convince Harthorne to borrow money, the way around it was the man’s sister. Colin had to marry unless he wanted to be poor, and marrying a woman who fancied herself in love with another man, or who likely would end up showing she cared more about titles and money than love, after all, would be perfect.

  Lady Amelia would not want any love from Colin in either circumstance, which suited him, since he didn’t intend to ever love his wife. He was so pleased with himself for his idea that he wanted to pat himself on the back, but that would look rather odd.

  Now, getting Harthorne to agree to his plan, which would provide Harthorne a great deal of money from Colin so his friend could pay off his debts was going to be the tricky part. He chose his words with precise care. This plan had to take an exact course. “I could marry your sister. I recently found out my father dictated in his will that I marry by a certain date or lose everything. You’d have one less mouth to feed, too, if I married Lady Amelia.”

  “Your father did what?”

  Colin waved a negligent hand at Harthorne’s shocked face, though he was positive he’d looked the same way when his mother had told him. “He left a will that states that if I’m not married by twenty-six I will be stripped off all the land that is not entailed, wh
ich as luck has it, would leave me destitute. If I marry your sister”―saying the word marry out loud really did make him feel ill, but he forged ahead―“I can meet the terms of my father’s will and you can have one less person to worry about caring for.”

  “How generous of you, but as I said, she thinks she loves Worthington, so she’d never agree, and I’m not inclined to force her hand.”

  Predictable answer, Colin thought smugly. Harthorne was too soft and tender when it came to his sister and mother. “Then let me lend you some money to provide your sister the Season she so richly deserves.”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t borrow money.”

  Colin almost grinned. This was like teaching his horse to jump fences. Creel had not wanted to leap the tall fence and had kept going around it. At least, he had until Colin had not given him anywhere to go but over the barrier. Carefully, Colin was leading Harthorne to the fence, and he was going to show the man that he had to jump it.

  “If you won’t borrow it, then let us make a wager.” And there was the bait. Harthorne had never been one to pass up a wager, if he thought he could win.

  Harthorne cocked his head. “What sort of wager?”

  “I’ll provide your family enough blunt to allow your sister to have a grand Season. And I will personally help give her the polish she needs to capture Worthington. I doubt she’ll end up marrying him, because I propose that your sister is like all ladies, and that once she is transformed into a graceful beauty and realizes she can capture a gentleman with more worth than Worthington, she will forget all about him and turn her sights to greater prizes. If she does indeed become, shall we say, more concerned about blunt than love, then I win the bet and she marries me.”

  Colin almost grinned. He’d managed to find the solution to save Harthorne and if Harthorne happened to lose the wager Colin had in mind then Colin would have the perfect wife, without ever looking. If Colin somehow lost the wager he’d proposed, he doubted it would be too much of a hardship to find another suitable woman to be his loveless bride.

  Harthorne studied Colin. “And if you lose and my sister remains determined to marry Worthington? What do I get?” Harthorne asked in a mildly interested voice.

  “I will pay off all your debt.”

  Harthorne whistled. “All of it? That’s quite a fortune, my friend.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have quite a fortune. I would pay ten times my worth to discover a woman who had a true heart, but sadly, I tell you I know I will win.” Either way Colin would get what he wanted. If he lost he’d get to pay off Harthorne’s debts to save his friend, and if he won, then he’d not have to bother searching for a wife who would not expect love because Lady Amelia would have shown herself to be the perfect candidate. Moreover, he would still be able to help Harthorne, as he would then be family.

  Harthorne cocked an eyebrow. “If, and it is a big if, I agreed to this wager, I would only do so under the express conditions that the terms were laid out in writing and that it is stated clearly that if you won and married Amelia, you would not try to give me money to pay off my debts.”

  “I’d agree to those terms,” Colin said smoothly. He’d simply give the money to Amelia and tell her to help her brother. He knew she would, too, by the love she had shown for Harthorne that night she’d hidden in the library. “Do we have a wager?”

  Harthorne drummed the table with his fingers as he stared blankly down at his empty plate. When he looked up, he had an odd sort of gleam in his eyes. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, the wager could provide Amelia with the chance to win Worthington that she desires, but I’m not positive I really want her to win him. I’m not confident he deserves her.” Harthorne speared Colin with an intense look. “What do you think? Is Worthington worth my sister?”

  “Absolutely not,” Colin replied. “Your sister has far too much spirit for a man like Worthington. If they married, it would not take long for him to try to control her, and a woman like Lady Amelia should not be controlled.”

  Colin wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a small smile playing at Harthorne’s lips. What the devil was the man smiling about?

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing at all,” Harthorne said smoothly.

  A bit too quickly and with a false ring, to Colin’s ear, but Harthorne was not the sort to mince words and the man was honest to a fault, so it must’ve been Colin’s imagination.

  Harthorne glanced down, seemingly examining his fingernails, and when his gaze met Colin’s again, he leaned forward. “Setting the wager aside for the moment, I wonder what sort of gentleman Amelia should marry, if not Worthington.”

  “That’s easy,” Colin said, reclining against his chair. Harthorne simply needed to consider everything, and Colin would help him. “She needs a man who can match wits with her. Who appreciates her quirkiness and who is confident enough in himself to sit back and simply let her be herself and enjoy the outrageous but pleasurable havoc she brings to his life.”

  Harthorne let out a deep, almost satisfied-sounding sigh. Somehow this conversation had gotten off track, and Colin needed to refocus it, but before he could speak, Harthorne said, “Whether you and I think Worthington is the right man for her or not, Amelia does. She believes she loves him, and she’s rather stubborn when she has set her mind to something, much like you.”

  Colin’s chest tightened. It sounded like Harthorne was not going to agree to the bet, and Colin could not think of anything else to say to convince his friend and save him from ruin. “Are you refusing the wager?”

  Harthorne shrugged. “I suppose I have no other good choices, so I’ll accept your wager.”

  Odd, but for a man who had just said he had no good choices, Harthorne sounded awfully cheerful. Maybe it was nerves and not cheeriness.

  “Well, tentatively. I agree, but before we can proceed, Amelia will have to consent as well. I won’t use her as a pawn without her understanding the repercussions of her decisions.”

  “That’s fair. Shall we call her in here and talk to her.”

  “After we break our fast.” Harthorne grinned at Colin but then suddenly frowned. “I almost feel bad for you that I agreed to the bet, but yet, I don’t.”

  “Because you think I’m going to lose?”

  “What?”

  “The bet,” Colin said slowly, unsure why Harthorne seemed suddenly confused. “You feel bad for me because you think I’m going to lose the wager and have to part with so much blunt?”

  “Oh, yes, certainly, the wager. Why else would I feel bad?”

  “Exactly,” Colin replied, a certainty that he’d missed something lodged in his gut, but what the devil he’d missed he was not sure. “Don’t be concerned or so sure,” Colin quickly inserted, not wanting Harthorne to overthink the situation and change his mind. “I vow if I win and your sister changes, I will respect her and I will be faithful. And in the end, you will have ensured she marries well and without the nonsense of love.”

  “No need to make vows about perfect marriage matches,” Harthorne said, that same odd smile tugging at his lips. Before Colin could demand an explanation, Lady Amelia came into the dining room, balancing a tray with three steaming plates of delicious smelling eggs and ham.

  “Mother refuses to come down to luncheon, or rather to break our fast, very late.” Lady Amelia set the tray on the table. “Philip, you must try to reason with her after breakfast. I fear she’s in another dark spell.”

  “I’ll speak to her,” Philip replied.

  “Excellent. Now that we have settled that, who is making a brilliant marriage match?” Lady Amelia’s hand accidentally brushed Colin’s as she moved the plate into place before him. He could have sworn he felt a tremor on the surface of her delicate skin.

  He glanced up at her and caught her gaze. “You are making the brilliant match, Lady Amelia.”

  “And who, pray tell, am I to be brilliantly matched to?” Amelia asked, desperately trying to keep her voice steady, but give
n that His Grace stared at her with that unblinking hazel gaze, it made it rather difficult. As she set her plate on the table, she prayed to God Philip had not been so dimwitted as to tell the duke about Charles. Her morning had been embarrassing enough, but if the duke knew of her problems, that would just be the cream on top of the pie. Too much!

  The duke set his fork down without taking a bite of his food. “We are speaking of your possible marriage to me, Lady Amelia. What do you think?”

  “Aversley!” Philip shouted, spitting out a mouthful of egg as he did so. “I hardly would have asked my sister that way.”

  Amelia’s stomach clenched and then a rather strange, warm sensation flooded her. She couldn’t help but stare openmouthed at the duke. He was handsome, shockingly so, reclined casually back in his chair with that devil-may-care smile on his face, his golden hair mussed and bronze stubble-glazed cheeks. Being married to him would be no hardship except for the fact that she didn’t love him and he didn’t love her. Oh, and he loved to sleep with women. Indiscriminately, so rumor would have it. She gave herself a mental shake to clear her head.

  She decided to address her brother and pretend for the moment that His Grace was not there. Not staring at her as if she were utterly fascinating, which of course, she was not. “Philip, whatever is going on? You know very well I, um, er…” However did one say they had already given one’s heart to someone else when that someone else didn’t, as of yet, know?

  Philip set down his fork, a deep-crimson blush creeping across his face. “I’m sure you are aware of our financial hardships.”

  Amelia would have laughed if she did not feel so sorry for her brother. “I’m aware,” she said simply, keeping her gaze on Philip even though she could feel the heat of the duke’s stare on her face.

  Philip tugged on his neck cloth until the perfect snowy knot came undone and the ends of the material hung from his neck. “Aversley and I have made a gentlemen’s bet, but if you don’t wish for me to go through with it, Emmy, I won’t.”