The Duke's Bride: Regency Romance (Regency Brides Book 1)

by Joanne Wadsworth

  “We’ve remained in the country while I’ve been unwell so you wouldn’t have been able to.”

  “Is morning sickness truly dreadful?” Her cousin would be honest with her.

  “It is when that sickness isn’t confined only to the mornings.” Matilde blew out a long breath which fluttered her curls. “It should in fact be called all-day sickness.”

  “Yes, I agree,” Mama added. “My own morning sickness with each of my five children was tediously difficult and unfortunately there’s no solution to the illness other than for those early months to pass and for the babe to grow. Once all settles down, so does the sickness.”

  “My babe certainly grows.” Lovingly, Matilde stroked her belly.

  “May I?” Ellie held out a hand, her excitement growing.

  “Of course, you may.” Brimming with pleasure, her cousin caught both her hands and brought them softly to rest on her small bump. “It truly is a miracle to be with child. I had begun to fear naught would happen since our second wedding anniversary came and passed with still no child to speak of.”

  “My mother feared the same after four years of marriage with my father.” Tidmore uttered the words from Ellie’s side, having joined her. “Yet she gave birth to my eldest brother the following year, then I arrived soon after, followed by my three sisters.”

  “Yes, sometimes it can simply take a little time for a babe to come.” Mama popped a kiss on Matilde’s cheek. “You wouldn’t want to miss the opening scene of the play, so the four of you should be away.”

  “Yes, we should, and this will be my first play in quite some time. I’m looking forward to it.” Matilde collected her rose silk reticule from the settee then linked arms with Ellie and they followed the men into the foyer where they collected their greatcoats and hats.

  Winterly opened the front door for them, even though the footman stood waiting, then beamed as she passed him by. “Have an enjoyable night out, dear sister.”

  “I’m sure I shall.”

  Together, the four of them walked down the driveway and stepped into the awaiting Marriweather coach and she sat beside her cousin on the rear padded seat, while Tidmore and Marriweather eased onto the front seat. The viscount tapped the roof with his cane and called out to his driver, “To Drury Lane.”

  The slap of the reins resounded and they jerked forward, the horses soon settling into a smooth gait as they traveled the streets toward the West End playhouses. The skies darkened further and the moon rose with a blaze of stars sprinkled all about.

  Once they arrived at the playhouse farther down the street from where another theater was being rebuilt after a terrible fire, they alighted out. The usual busyness of the carpenters hard at work during the daytime hours had ceased, the ricocheting blows of their hammers now quiet, and the only noise that of the excited ton who’d arrived in their carriages to enjoy a night out just as they had.

  After walking inside the grand entranceway, Ellie made her way to Marriweather’s box on the fourth floor, her cousin and the viscount taking two of the four burgundy padded chairs along the front row.

  Tidmore, his hand resting gently over hers tucked into the crook of his arm, bent his head to hers near the rear curtains in the dark where they couldn’t be seen. “Marriweather also invited another gentleman here tonight, as well as his plus one, and before they arrive I thought it best to warn you of who that gentleman will be.”

  “If you need to warn me, then it must be Marriweather’s younger brother.” She looked into the deep brown depths of his eyes. “His brother is quite the scoundrel, but still rather loveable all the same.”

  “No, it’s not his brother who’ll be joining us, but instead Captain Poole.”

  “Oh, how interesting.” Surprise certainly took her.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “I haven’t heard from Poole today.” She’d been expecting a note to arrive at the very least, perhaps even flowers to accompany his words of regret at having to leave her behind in the park.

  “Poole requested the invitation after you accepted my offer to come,” Tidmore told her. “Are you interested in the man at all?”

  “No, and I only accepted a ride with Poole in the park in order to distract Ashten from learning exactly who my supposed suitor was.” An honest answer, one the man she’d agreed to elope with deserved to know.

  “Then if we are to be away to Gretna Green tomorrow night, I need you to take all care around the captain.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you for understanding my request.” He gestured for her to take a seat beside her cousin and she sat while he eased into the chair next to hers.

  Heavy burgundy curtains hid the stage from view, denying them anything of interest as yet to watch, so she removed her dainty opera glasses from her reticule, just as Matilde had done and trained them on the audience. This booth held a prime position at the front of the house, with a bird’s eye view of both the players once they alighted onto the stage, and the other patrons who’d chosen to sit in the main auditorium below. She could even see across to the booths on the other side with no issue, the chandeliers above alight with candles.

  She cast her gaze along the boxes next to them and halted when she caught sight of the shadowed form of someone standing in the very rear of the Duke of Ashten’s box. Ashten hadn’t attended a play since his return from the war and as the curtains shifted and the shadowed form disappeared, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Perhaps it had simply been one of playhouse’s staff ensuring all was clear in his box, or perhaps a cleaning maid. No one else other than those who paid for these boxes were permitted entry within them and constant checks were made.

  “Good evening, everyone.” Captain Poole entered with a flourish, his fine jacket buttoned and a young lady at his side. “Meet Miss Sarah Shepherd, my brother’s betrothed.”

  “Good evening, Miss Shepherd.” Marriweather crossed to the couple. “Welcome and do take a seat. The play has yet to begin.”

  “Thank you.” Miss Shepherd accepted Poole’s escort to her seat, the young lady wearing a pearl-colored evening gown with thick petticoats under her full skirts, her lacy kid gloves fitting snuggly all the way to her elbows and flowers adorning the wide brim of her hat. Behind Miss Shepherd, her maid stepped into the booth and settled herself on a stool at the rear.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you.” Ellie smiled warmly at the young lady. “Captain Poole told me how you and your betrothed met. Are you enjoying your time in town?”

  “Yes, immensely, and it’s wonderful spending time with my betrothed’s family.” A flutter of her fan.

  Poole clapped Tidmore on the back. “A fine night it is to be out and enjoying oneself.”

  “Yes, it surely is,” Tidmore answered him with a slight shift of his shoulders.

  “Did all go well on your return to the War Office?” she questioned Poole, not wishing to ignore what had happened in the park with his urgent leaving.

  “All was cleared up and is now most certainly well.” Poole glanced at Miss Shepherd. “I was with Lady Ellie and the Duke of Ashten in Hyde Park when I received a message from Bishophale to attend him at the Horse Guards in Whitehall.” He cast his gaze back to Ellie. “Speaking of the duke, I’m rather glad he was with us at the time. I truly hated leaving you as directly as I did. Did the two of you have a pleasant afternoon?”

  “Yes, we finished off your glorious Spanish wine and played cards.”

  A trumpet blasted and the playhouse’s presenter, in his tailed coat and stiff white shirt, stepped onto the stage from between the burgundy curtains and bowed. Eloquently, he welcomed them all, then spoke of the play to be shown, the play titled Othello, as well as the cast to whom would be serving them with their night’s entertainment, then he stepped aside with another deep bow and a flourishing wave of his hand as the curtain swished open.

  Act one began with Roderigo taking center stage, the actor portraying a rich and self-indulgent gentleman who
complained without halt to his friend Iago. A secret marriage had occurred between Desdemona and Othello, and Desdemona, being the daughter of a senator, had gone ahead and wed a Moorish general in the Venetian army. Roderigo was terribly upset. He loved Desdemona and had already asked her father for her hand in marriage and Iago listened on, the actor’s cunning performance bone-chilling.

  Desdemona was an ethereal vision in a white and silver gown, her hair the same soft white shade as her dress with long locks rippling down her back, and Ellie couldn’t help but admire the actress’s wonderful interpretation of Desdemona. She played her part to perfection. Certainly, she’d never seen this actress on this stage before and she picked up the program handed to her upon her entry and scanned the names. Next to Desdemona’s name the space had been left blank, so perhaps the actress was a stand-in who’d accepted the role at the last minute, but by goodness, she was exquisite in how she moved about the stage, as if she owned the floor.

  After the first intermission had passed and the second act begun, Ellie was no closer to learning who the actress could be, and the auditorium was abuzz with wonder, just as she was.

  Throughout each act that followed, Desdemona floated in a dance, each move executed with stunning fluidity and the elegance born of a lady of the peerage.

  “Someone must know who she is,” Matilde whispered in her ear as she peered through her theater glasses to get a better look at the actress.

  “I would dearly love to know.” The final moments of the last scene played out, Desdemona’s death by strangulation at Othello’s hands—in their bedchamber no less—and all because Othello had believed his wife guilty of adultery.

  More death ensued as the truth became clear.

  Treachery from Iago.

  Desdemona had been innocent.

  Othello slashed at Iago, not quite killing him before taking his own life in great despair of what he’d done by killing his wife.

  The curtains swished across and applause resounded about the house.

  What a magnificent performance.

  Ellie clapped and waited anxiously for the curtains to reopen.

  They did and Othello rose from the floor, held out his hand to Desdemona lying prone on the bed, her face powdered and her wig hiding her identity, which appeared wouldn’t be discovered this night.

  The cast joined together in the center of the stage and bowed, then the curtains swished across a second time, taking them swiftly from her sight and that of the house.

  “I’ve never seen her before, but her performance was exquisite.” Poole leaned forward from his seat behind them. “Miss Shepherd and I were actually in the foyer during the last intermission when we caught word that she might be the daughter of one of the peerage, which could be why her name is missing from the program.”

  “Oh, we must discover if that is true.” Matilde’s eyes went wide.

  “No, we certainly won’t.” Marriweather patted his wife’s hand, the affection in his gaze clear to see. “We’d be a bloodthirsty lot if we wished to expose Desdemona’s true identity when she’s clearly chosen to keep it a secret. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re right, although annoyingly so.” Matilde frowned at her husband. “Alas, now, I will always be in wonder of who she might be.”

  “So will I.” Poole stood and offered Miss Shepherd his hand. “Allow me to escort you downstairs for some refreshments.” To Marriweather, he smiled and said, “You have my thanks for allowing us to join you this evening.”

  “Anytime, old chap, anytime.”

  Chapter 15

  Ashten remained hidden deep within the shadows at the rear of his box throughout the whole performance of Othello. It had taken all his willpower to remain quiet and still while Tidmore and Poole remained so close to Ellie in Marriweather’s booth, but as soon as the performance came to an end, he slipped behind the curtains and waited for her and the Marriweathers to leave the playhouse and alight into their carriage.

  As soon as they did, he mounted his stallion and rode hard to Ellie’s home, beating the carriage’s route easily. Hidden atop his horse behind thick bushes near her driveway, he lifted a hand to acknowledge his footman, Watts, who’d remained out of sight keeping a watchful eye on Ellie since he’d left her the night before.

  Unease had eaten away at him when he’d returned home to his manor on Park Lane, and when he’d walked through the front door of Blackgale House and stood in his front foyer, he’d groaned at the silence. Within Ellie’s home immense love and lively conversation rebounded off every wall. Even their puppy yapped and played wherever the wee thing wished. Within his home, everything was in order, without a speck of dust about, or an ornament sitting where it shouldn’t. Flowers bloomed in a vase on the side table, all beautiful and displaying an array of vivid springtime blooms, yet not one daisy graced the damned perfect bunch.

  He wanted a daisy, and this morning when he’d awoken it had been with renewed energy.

  He was tired of being enclosed within the parameters he’d set for himself following the death of Lady Ashley. Ellie was right. Ashley would never have agreed to his proposal, not when she’d already chosen another man. Now, the only woman he wanted to take to wife was his best friend’s little sister, which meant he needed to do some serious groveling and apologizing if he wished to see that happen. He certainly couldn’t allow Ellie to make such a terrible mistake and run away with another man, unless of course that man was him.

  Hooves clopped and Marriweather’s carriage slowly rolled to a stop in Ellie’s driveway.

  Tidmore aided Ellie from the carriage and walked her to her front door. She searched her reticle, possibly for the house key to let herself in since she hadn’t knocked on the door and awoken one of the staff to allow her entry. Blast it all. Winterly or Jeeves should be up waiting for her, to ensure she safely made it inside.

  “Ellie?” Tidmore’s voice traveled to him, the man still standing at Ellie’s back.

  “Yes, Thomas.” Ellie turned and smiled at his new business partner. Hell and damnation, she’d spoken the man’s first name.

  “At the masquerade tomorrow night, I shall send a footman with a missive to you.” He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Once you receive that missive, follow the instructions.”

  “Of course.”

  Double hell and damnation. It was Tidmore she intended on eloping with and tomorrow night no less. That wasn’t happening, not on his watch.

  “Good night, and sleep well.” Tidmore leaned in and tried to brush a kiss across Ellie’s cheek, although she stepped back a touch before he succeeded.

  “Good night to you too.”

  “All will be well tomorrow evening. I’ll make certain of it.” Tidmore gave her a reassuring smile then strode back with a lively step to the waiting carriage.

  Ellie waved to the departing coach then sagged against the door. His horse snorted, and she straightened and peered directly toward the bush he hid behind, although thankfully he remained shrouded in darkness. With a shake of her head, she found her key and slipped inside, and the moment she did, he bounded from his stallion, tethered it to a branch and gestured for Watts to keep an eye on his prized possession then using the shadows, he snuck around the side of the house without detection and glared at Ellie’s bedchamber window on the second-floor above. The gentle glow of a candle lit the closed lilac drapes, then a few minutes later the light was extinguished and the glow dispersed.

  He propped his cane against the side of the house and gripped the exterior.

  Time to make his move.

  Chapter 16

  Tucked underneath her quilted lilac bedcovers, Ellie drifted toward sleep. A creak, then a soft rustle. Her drapes swayed in the nighttime breeze. Oh dear, Penny must have left her window open. She eased out of bed, tiptoed across the white woolen mat, her cream nightgown brushing her ankles. A shadowed figure slipped through the gap in the drapes and she opened her mouth to
scream, but got slapped across the mouth with a hand.

  “Shh, it’s just me.” A ragged whisper.

  “Ashten?”

  “Yes, who else did you expect to have sneaking into your bedchamber at such a late hour?” He released her, swept past and bolted the door then dropped his greatcoat onto the corner padded armchair and crossed his arms before her. “Clearly, we need to speak, and it can’t wait.”

  “At this time of the night?”

  “This is the only time we have left since you clearly intend on running away tomorrow night.” He lit the candle on her bedside table next to a glass bowl filled with water and floating daisies. He stared at those daisies, the gentle glow of the candle illuminating the rugged lines of his face and the fierce determination now etched into his handsome features.

  “You’re in my bedchamber.” She thumped her hands on her hips, her hair loose and swaying down her back. “Have you gone mad?”

  “Tit for tat, my sweet.”

  “This is not the same as when I visited you in your chamber. For starters, you were fully dressed, and it wasn’t the middle of the night. I came through your front door, not scaled the side of your house like a thief.”

  “I’m currently dressed, so that remains the same.” He motioned to his beige trousers and white linen shirt underneath his superfine beige jacket, his white cravat knotted at his neck.

  “But I’m not dressed if you haven’t noticed.” She gave him a purposeful stare.

  “I can only see your toes poking out from under your nightgown. You’re as fully dressed as you need to be.” He swept his gaze over her chest, his lips slowly lifting. “Well, perhaps there’s a nipple or two doing some poking as well. Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?”

  “Cease looking at my—my—” She crossed her arms over her breasts since her nipples were indeed poking through the thin cotton. “You have clearly gone mad.”

  “Yes, I’m mad with lust and there’s only one woman who can satisfy that lust and cure me of the desperation I currently feel.” He reached out and gently caught her cheeks in his hands, his voice lowering to a husky growl as he continued, “That woman would be you, in case I hadn’t quite made that clear.”