by Darcy Burke
“Very well. They are enjoying the solitary attentions of their father at present.”
Lady Satterfield smiled warmly. “He just dotes on them. His father would be so proud.”
Though Nora had never known him, she agreed wholeheartedly. Titus had spent far too long bearing the guilt of not living up to his father’s expectations, and of not telling him how much he’d loved him. He’d finally found a way to forgive himself, and he credited Nora. However, she believed that they’d conquered those old demons together.
The first guest arrived just then—Lady Dunn with her new companion. The elderly viscountess now walked with a cane, but she was as alert and sharp as always. Nora greeted her along with Lady Satterfield.
“It’s always a delight to see you, Your Grace,” Lady Dunn said. She seemed to take special pleasure in addressing Nora since she’d become a duchess.
Nora bussed the woman’s soft cheek. “You look especially lively this evening.”
“You may credit my new companion.” Lady Dunn inclined her head to the tall young woman standing just behind her. “This is Miss Ivy Breckenridge. She suggested this concoction in my hair.”
The “concoction” consisted of a feather and some flowers. It gave her the height she always sought—Lady Dunn was rather petite and often employed a feather to make her appear taller—as well as a splash of youthful charm due to the posies.
“It’s lovely,” Nora said. She looked at Miss Breckenridge, whose expression was impassive. “Well done.”
The companion nodded slightly. “Thank you. Come, Lady Dunn, we must get you settled.”
“Yes, yes, a chair would not come amiss.”
“We’ve just the spot for you in the sitting room, with a perfect view of the dancing through the open doorway,” Nora said, leading them from the ballroom and leaving Lady Satterfield to join her husband in order to greet their guests.
Within the next half hour, the rooms were nearly full with the usual crush. The dancing would soon begin, which meant that Titus would sneak in the back just in time to dance with her. Nora smiled to herself in anticipation as her feet carried her toward the open terrace doors.
She caught sight of three young women standing in the corner, one of whom was the enigmatic Miss Breckenridge, whom she’d met earlier. The women were huddled together, but Miss Breckenridge kept an eye toward Lady Dunn.
Nora strolled toward them. “Hello again, Miss Breckenridge. And good evening to your friends.” She looked at the pair, one of whom possessed average height, dark hair, and spirited hazel eyes. The other was a bit shorter, with brown curly hair and the most striking blue eyes Nora had ever seen. “Good evening, I’m Lady Kendal. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Satterfield House.”
The curly-haired woman’s jaw dropped, but only briefly for she blurted, “You’re the Forbidden Duchess.”
The other dark-haired woman elbowed her in the ribs before smiling brightly. “Ignore Miss Knox. She’s already had too much ratafia.”
Nora laughed softly. “I am the Forbidden Duchess.”
The woman who’d elbowed Miss Knox winced. “Our apologies. It isn’t polite to call people names.”
“Do you know that when I was your age, I referred to all the loftiest gentlemen in London as the Untouchables—men who were so far above my station that I couldn’t imagine speaking to them, let alone marrying them. Men like my husband.” She couldn’t help but laugh again.
They all stared at her, and then the woman who’d apologized laughed with her. “I like that—the Untouchables. I’m Miss Parnell, and this is Miss Knox.”
“I’m pleased to meet you both.”
Miss Knox cocked her head to the side. “Does that mean…you were like us?”
“I can’t say, but I was a fairly poor girl from the country who was lucky enough to have a cousin to sponsor her.” She moved closer and lowered her voice. “And then I had the nerve to be caught in a compromising position with a gentleman who refused to wed me. I was shipped back to the country posthaste. Ruined.”
Their eyes had widened. Miss Knox sputtered, “But you’re a duchess.”
“Only by fate. And the kindness of my mother-in-law, Lady Satterfield. She gave me a second chance when no one else would.”
“It’s like a fairy tale,” Miss Breckenridge said. She pursed her lips. “I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
Miss Parnell rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t, but clearly this one is real.” She grinned at Nora. “Pay no heed to Ivy. She’s content to be a companion and focus her energies on helping those who are less fortunate.”
Nora looked at the young woman, intrigued. “Indeed? I should like to hear more about that some time. Perhaps you and Lady Dunn will come for tea soon.” Nora rarely invited people to their town house, but Lady Dunn and her companion were part of a special circle of friends.
Ivy blinked. “If you insist.” She sounded surprised by Nora’s interest.
Nora supposed it was unusual for a woman of her station to pay these women notice, let alone invite them to her home. She looked at the other two women. “You shall come too, since it seems you’re all friends.”
Miss Knox sniffed. “Unfortunately, I have to return home in a few days.”
“You’re not here for the Season?” Nora asked.
Miss Knox shook her head. “My parents refuse to fund any more Seasons. They said three was more than enough and that if I couldn’t find a wealthy husband in London by then, I’d have to hope someone in our district would come up to scratch.” She smiled at Miss Parnell. “Lucy and I became friends a few years ago, and she invited me to visit her this week.”
Miss Parnell linked her arm through Miss Knox’s. “I wish you could remain for the entire Season.”
“She can,” Nora interjected without thinking. “Miss Knox, please allow me to sponsor you.” It was a spontaneous offer, but one she didn’t regret. She warmed to the idea of doing for someone else what Lady Satterfield had done for her. In fact, Lady Satterfield would most certainly help her—or perhaps even try to sponsor Miss Knox herself.
Miss Knox’s jaw dropped again, but for a bit longer this time. “Your Grace, that’s… I don’t know what to say.”
Nora smiled at her. “Just say yes. If not for the kind and generous sponsorship of my mother-in-law, I might not have married Kendal. It would give me great pleasure to provide the same for you this Season.”
Miss Parnell turned to her friend, her expression animated and her tone eager. “We’ll write to your parents immediately. How can they refuse the duchess’s kind offer? They’ll be thrilled to have you out of their hair and in the hands of a duchess, no less.”
Miss Knox looked at Nora. “Do you think I could find a duke too?”
Nora laughed. “I don’t know. I didn’t set out to snag a title at all. That I landed an Untouchable still mystifies me sometimes.”
“I daresay we need to steal that phrase—the Untouchables,” Miss Parnell said. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“It’s an excellent term, and will pair rather well with our naming convention.” Miss Parnell exchanged humored glances with Miss Knox, who giggled, and Miss Breckenridge, whose lips curved into a charming smile—the first Nora had seen from her.
“Do tell me,” Nora urged.
Miss Knox looked past Nora into the throng of ball goers. “We have names for certain gentlemen.” She gestured toward the Earl of Dartford. “Take Dartford, for example. He’s the Duke of Daring.”
“But he’s not a duke,” Nora said.
Miss Parnell shrugged. “No, however in our view, they may as well all be dukes.”
“And Dartford is certainly daring,” Miss Breckenridge noted, and not without a touch of disdain. “He races in the park every Tuesday, can be found gambling in the worst hells, and I hear he’s swum nude in the Thames.”
Miss Knox nodded primly. “Just so. We call the Earl of Sutton the Duke of Deception.”
/>
“Because he’s led so many young misses to believe a proposal is in the offing, only to drop them cold,” Miss Parnell said.
“A thoroughly deserved nickname,” Miss Breckenridge said. “And don’t forget the Duke of Depravity.” She curled her lip as she said the name.
Nora looked between them. “Who is that?”
Miss Knox sighed. “The Duke of Clare. But we actually call him the Duke of Desire. Ivy insists on labeling him depraved.”
Miss Breckenridge narrowed her eyes at Miss Knox. “Because he is.”
Miss Parnell tapped her finger against her chin. “He’s also a degenerate, debauched, and disreputable, if you’d like to expand his naming options.”
This provoked another smile from Ivy, and everyone else laughed.
Miss Knox glanced around. “Was he even invited?”
“I’m certain he was,” Nora said. “He may be debauched, but he’s still an Untouchable. Whether he actually attends is another matter.”
“Like your husband.” Miss Parnell inclined her head toward the doorway to the terrace.
Nora turned and met her husband’s emerald gaze. She felt a familiar rush of excitement and anticipation. Five years of marriage had done nothing to diminish their attraction or their connection.
“Please excuse me. I do look forward to our tea,” she said before making her way to Titus.
Garbed in a splendid gold-threaded ivory waistcoat with pitch-black coat and trousers, he was easily the most attractive man in the room, but then he always was. His hair was still quite dark, though he had a few silver strands here and there that he preferred to ignore.
“Sorry I’m late.” His voice caressed her as she linked her arm through his, and they walked into the drawing room for the first dance. “Rebecca begged me for one more story before I left.”
Their daughter was four, and she loved nothing more than to listen to her father read to her. Christopher, who was just two, wasn’t yet able to remain awake for an entire story, but the time would come.
“And you couldn’t refuse,” Nora said, smiling up at him as they approached her in-laws, who were forming the line for the dance.
“Who can refuse those beautiful hazel eyes? She is the image of her mother, and since I’d do anything for you, it follows that I would do anything for Becky.”
Nora took up her place across from him, and the music started. “Can you believe it was five years ago that we met?”
“Yes and no. It seems like it was just yesterday, and yet I can barely remember my life before you came into it.”
When it was their turn, he repeated the move he’d done during their first dance, circling her and gliding his hand along her waist. His touch was firmer this time and lingered far longer.
She looked into his beloved eyes. “I think I might’ve fallen in love with you during that dance.”
“That’s precisely when it happened for me,” he said. “From that moment on, I was a different man. Just look at all the events I went to for the first time in years—just so I could be with you.”
She laughed softly. “Yes. It was rather telling in retrospect.”
They reached the end of the line, and he lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you for giving me a life I love.”
She smiled up at him, love bursting in her chest. He’d given her a life she’d never imagined and a love for all time.
The end
Books By Darcy Burke
Historical Romance
The Untouchables
The Forbidden Duke
The Duke of Daring
The Duke of Deception
The Duke of Desire
The Duke of Defiance
The Duke of Danger
The Duke of Ice
The Duke of Ruin
The Duke of Lies
Secrets and Scandals
Her Wicked Ways
His Wicked Heart
To Seduce a Scoundrel
To Love a Thief (a novella)
Never Love a Scoundrel
Scoundrel Ever After
Legendary Rogues
Lady of Desire
Romancing the Earl
Lord of Fortune
Captivating the Scoundrel
Contemporary Romance
Ribbon Ridge
Where the Heart Is (a prequel novella)
Only in My Dreams
Yours to Hold
When Love Happens
The Idea of You
When We Kiss
You’re Still the One
So Hot
So Good
So Right
So Wrong
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for reading The Forbidden Duke. I hope you enjoyed it!
Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my newsletter, follow me on Twitter at @darcyburke, or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/DarcyBurkeFans.
The Forbidden Duke is the first book in The Untouchables series. The next book in the series is The Duke of Daring. Watch for more information! In the meantime, catch up with my other historical series: Secrets and Scandals and Legendary Rogues. If you like contemporary romance, I hope you’ll check out my Ribbon Ridge series available from Avon Impulse and the follow-on So Hot series!
I appreciate my readers so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
About the Author
Darcy Burke is the USA Today Bestselling Author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.
A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene, and three Bengal cats. In her “spare” time Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a 12-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. She’s also a fair-weather runner, and her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge. Visit Darcy online at http://www.darcyburke.com and sign up for her new releases newsletter, follow her on Twitter at @darcyburke, or like her Facebook.
www.darcyburke.com
The Duke Who Knew Too Much
Grace Callaway
The Duke Who Knew Too Much © 2015 Grace Callaway.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover Design by Seductive Musings Designs
Photo Credit: Period Images
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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 person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Created with Vellum
Prologue
As the carriage passed the massive stone gates, Alaric McLeod leaned out the window, trying to get a glimpse of his new home. It was a rare show of excitement for him. At nine, he’d already learned the value of self-discipline, of guarding his responses to the world around him. ’Twas a simple fact: what people couldn’t see, they couldn’t hurt.
Yesterday, he hadn’t flinched when his da tossed the single, ratty travelling case—the only one the McLeods owned—onto the carriage and said tonelessly, “That’s that, then. Be a good lad and no trouble
to my cousin.”
He didn’t move a muscle when his stepmother bid him a cool farewell.
Yet when his younger half-brother Will cried, “Why is Alaric leaving? I want to go with him!” something hot and unexpected pushed behind his eyes.
He pushed back, forcing the heat to retreat.
“Good bye, William.” He was proud of how grown-up he sounded. “I’m the ward of a duke now, so I shan’t be returning here.” He glanced at the tidy cottage with its blooming hedgerows and vegetable garden—and the old, stupid yearning pierced him. Though his confidence wavered, he lifted his chin. “My new guardian lives in a castle. I’ll have my own bedchamber. And servants to fetch me anything I want.”
“I want to go with you,” Will insisted.
Will’s mother intervened, her arms folding protectively around her little son. She’d never once held Alaric that way. The knots in Alaric’s chest tightened—and he ignored that too. He told himself he didn’t care if his father’s new wife was young and beautiful with her shining chestnut hair and dark brown eyes—Alaric’s own mama had been more beautiful. And his stepmother was a mere milliner’s girl whereas his mother had been a true lady, the youngest daughter of an earl.
Though his mama had died when he was three, she still visited him in fragments. The fading scent of gardenias. The whisper of silk behind a closed door. Dampness upon a cheek as cool and smooth as alabaster. We don’t belong here, Alaric. We deserve better ...
“You’ll stay here, Will,” the new Mrs. McLeod said firmly, “where you belong.”
Alaric understood his stepmother’s message. Truth didn’t need to be spoken aloud: he knew who belonged and who didn’t. As if to prove the point, his da came to stand behind his stepmother and half-brother. His chest chafed at the picture the three made. Brown-haired and robust, a proud, loving Scots family. He bore no resemblance to them with his black hair and awkward, gangling build, the pale skin and eyes he’d inherited from his English mama.
