To Catch A Duke
Tales From Seldon Park: Book 1
By Bethany M. Sefchick
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ã 2013 Bethany M. Sefchick
All rights reserved
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Coming Soon...
Other Books By Bethany M. Sefchick
About the author
Prologue
1798
"Will she live?" Benjamin Sinclair, the newly named Duke of Radcliffe looked up at the doctor, whose name he hadn't bothered to learn, though he supposed that he really should. That was how dukes behaved, after all. Even at ten years of age, however, Benjamin knew how to speak with adults, so conversing with the doctor wasn't an issue. He had been trained to assume the title since the cradle, and while there was still much he didn't know, he would learn. Trial by fire, it would seem. He was ready.
The doctor, who didn't look very clean, Benjamin noted with some disgust, gave an offhanded flick of his wrist as if the discussion wasn't important. To him, Benjamin supposed that it wasn't. But to the newly named duke? Well, this conversation was everything. "Probably. They'll scar something awful. That's for certain. Doesn't matter, though. She's ruined now. No one is going to want a wife that looks like that." There was a slight sneer on the man's face, one Benjamin wanted to wipe away with his fist.
Benjamin also felt a hot spurt of anger well up inside of him, but he shoved it back down. No. No anger. Not now. Julia needed his help and caring, not his fury. "Is that your medical opinion or the opinion of a mere man?" Even though they were discussing a four-year old, Benjamin knew that, in his mind, the doctor was imagining Julia as an adult.
"Both." It was clear that the man wasn't giving all that much thought to the little girl lying upstairs in her bed surrounded by her parents. "She's young, so the lines will shift and stretch as she grows, but that doesn't change the fact that they'll scar. Deeply. The cuts aren't shallow, but they're not deep enough to stitch closed." He looked up, as if trying to see through the ceiling. "I suggested bleeding her, but her parents won't hear of it." Then he eyed Benjamin cautiously, probably thinking that, given his young age, he'd be an easy mark. "Perhaps you could talk to them?"
"No." Benjamin's voice was ice cold now. He'd seen for himself the horrors that being bled could cause, and they were something he never wanted to see again. A maid in his parents' employ had broken her leg when she'd fallen down some stairs in the main house. Another quack doctor, probably from the same medical school that had graduated the one standing before him now, had bled her, saying it was necessary to get rid of all of the "bad air" that had seeped in to the open wound. She'd died two days later, screaming in pain, her face twisted in sheer agony. It was something that Benjamin would never forget. A scant four hours ago, he'd sworn to protect Julia for the rest of her life. He wasn't going to allow her to be bled, especially not if her parents forbid it.
Shaking his head, the new duke looked up at the doctor, knowing that in all probability, his violet eyes had darkened with anger as they usually did when he was passionate about something, making him appear as if he was possessed. Benjamin had seen his eyes in a mirror one day while arguing with his father, and they appeared so fierce that he'd managed to scare himself. So he knew well and good how he must appear to the incompetent doctor standing before him. For once, he was grateful. "She will not be bled. I will not allow it."
"Forgive me, my lord," the doctor had enough sense to use Benjamin's new status when addressing him, "but as a medical professional..."
Benjamin cut him off before he could finish, his temper rising unchecked now. "I have seen better care from the people who treat my father's horses. No. You will not touch her again. No one will, unless I approve them. I have already sent to London for another physician, one that my family trusts." He was well aware that he was overstepping his bounds, at least as far as Julia was concerned, but then, he'd been doing so for years, and, thus far, no one had contradicted him about his right to do so.
The doctor, sensing he was about to be dismissed, gave a stiff bow and glared at the young boy standing defiantly in front of him. "Very well. But you are making a grave mistake. If she dies because she was not bled, her death will be on your head."
"My decision is firm." Benjamin was unrelenting on the issue. To further make his point, he crossed his arms over his chest, even though he knew that at his age, the effect probably lacked something. "Now go."
The doctor made another stiff bow and then stalked out of the front door of Seldon Park. Benjamin could hear him conversing with the Rosemont family's groom outside, but not the precise words. It didn't matter. The man was gone, and he wouldn't harm Julia any more than he already had. Now it was a matter of waiting for the new physician to arrive. He'd sent a rider to London the moment he and the other Rosemonts had returned to the great mansion, once more no one questioning his authority to make the directive. Even though he didn't live in the house and wasn't a part of the family.
Crossing to the front parlor, Benjamin looked out the window that faced west where the sun was just beginning to set, it's arc across the sky bringing it just above the lush line of trees that ringed the side garden. His own home, Spring House, lay in that direction where it bordered Seldon Park's distant fields. A part of him knew he should be there to deal with the events of the day. What had happened affected his family as well, and, as the duke, young though he might be, he was head of his family. It was his responsibility - just like so many other things. Still, he could not bear to leave.
Julia Rosemont, a four-year old child, who also happened to be the sister of his best friend, was lying injured upstairs, her body forever scarred, even though she was too young to comprehend the consequences of what had transpired. And he was responsible.
In that moment, Benjamin felt the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, and he knew that time would not improve things. Not in this situation, anyway. He was the duke, and even at the tender age of ten, he knew his responsibilities. Julia Rosemont was now one of them.
"I'll take care of you forever," he swore softly as he leaned his head against the cool window. Just then, the sun's golden rays splashed over his face, bathing him in a golden glow, making him appear like the god he most certainly was not. "I won't let anyone hurt you again." Even as he said the words, he knew in his heart that he meant them to his very core. No one would ever hurt her again. If someone did? Well, then they would answer to him. And they would pay.
Chapter One
1818 - Late May
"I honestly can't believe she'd dare be seen in public so soon. She's simply inviting more scandal. As if she has not caused enough already!" The woman's shrill voice carried into the corner of the ballroom where Miss Julia Rosemont was attempting in vain to hide behind either a large Grecian-style column or a potted plant. Which ever would conceal her better.
"Those scars. They're positively hideous. Anyone else would be ashamed, and rightfully so," another woman, this one with a lower-pitched voice, but still
just as grating, agreed. At that, Julia risked peeking out from her hiding place to see Miss Letitia Worth gazing about the ballroom as she stood next to her best friend, Miss Henrietta Cartwright. The two women were clearly looking for their current prey of choice - in this case Julia - in order to inflict more verbal damage. As if the scene they'd caused two nights ago at the Devonmont's musicale hadn't been enough. Really, the supposed fainting at the sight of Julia's scarred visage was quite beyond, and not at all the kind of behavior proper ladies should be displaying. At least in Julia's opinion.
Still, it had brought them much attention, particularly from many of the young men in attendance, and had shamed Julia to the point where she and her companion, Miss Avaria Thomas, been forced to leave. Avaria had told Julia in her halting, wheezing voice not to worry, that those two were merely trying to keep the competition at bay on the marriage mart. Particularly since neither of them were having very good luck at snaring a husband, but Julia knew differently.
For Henrietta and Letitia, poking fun at someone who wasn't as physically blessed as they were, or at least as they assumed they were, was nothing more than cruel sport. It was designed for no other purpose than to garner attention, hopefully from the kind of man who would marvel at their so-called "quick wit" and find them charming enough that he'd immediately propose marriage. Unfortunately, it wasn't unique to them either. They were merely the two who squawked the loudest at the balls and other society events, but most of the young ladies of Julia's acquaintance did the same, usually at her expense.
The truth was, Julia was an oddity, and would have been considered so even without her scars. She'd spent many of her formative years in the country, even though she had come of age in London, mostly because it was simply the proper thing to do, rather than because she loved being in town. That in and of itself did not make her odd, but what followed definitely did.
Just before Julia had been about to make her debut, her father had died unexpectedly, and she'd retreated with her mother and her brother Nicholas, now the new duke, to the country for an extended period of mourning. There she had remained for nearly six years, hidden away while the rest of the world moved on without her, including her brother, who, as the duke, had responsibilities that could not wait for their mother to recover from the depressed state she'd fallen into upon learning that her beloved Reginald would never wake up again.
Eventually, it became clear to both Nicholas and Julia that their mother, bless her, was in no condition, either physically or mentally, to return to town and resume the social whirl she'd enjoyed while her husband had been alive. She probably never would be again. No, Lady Alice Rosemont, now the dowager Duchess of Candlewood, had as good as died the very moment that her husband had dropped dead in the front parlor from a heart attack. She had retreated to Seldon Park in rural Sussex, the very place Julia had spent much of her youth, to mourn her dead husband, and, as she had told Julia, "find the fortitude to carry on with life." That had never happened.
Julia probably would have remained at Seldon Park for the rest of her days if not for two major events. The first was that Nicholas had decreed that, even though she was well past prime marriageable age, Julia should have at least one Season to replace the one that she had been denied after their father's death. The second was that Lady Alice, who had been stoutly opposed to the very idea of a London season to begin with, died peacefully in her sleep three days after Nicholas had made his pronouncement.
If one were to strictly follow the rules of society, Julia should have returned to full mourning immediately, not prepared herself to go to London. However, Nicholas had reasoned that since their mother had, in essence, died the same day their father did - for other than the discussion about Julia's potential season, she never uttered more than one or two words at a time - their time of mourning was at an end.
He also reminded Julia that, as no one had seen or heard from Lady Alice in several years, and as it was unlikely that anyone would check the family graveyard at Seldon Park, he could claim that she'd passed on several years ago and had simply not mentioned it out of respect for his sister who had been forced to deal with the loss of both parents in rapid succession.
To that end, Nicholas had hired a distant cousin, Avaria Thomas, who had lived most of her rather sheltered life in Bath, to be Julia's companion for the season, assuring that while she was properly chaperoned at all times, he didn't necessarily need to be present and that no one knew about Lady Alice's death. It was, Nicholas had informed Julia, a perfect solution.
Well, it would have been if not for the scars, something that Julia could not erase, no matter how she might wish to, and if Henrietta and Letitia had been enjoying more success in snaring husbands for themselves. Neither one of them could truly be considered a diamond of the first water, despite their ambitious mamas' claims of their unparalleled beauty, refinement, and charm. They were also both lacking in good sense and, on occasion, good manners, preferring gossip above all else. Julia knew it was no wonder why they were having such problems snaring husbands, though she would never say anything aloud.
However, instead of redoubling their efforts on the marriage mart, they preferred to torment Julia mercilessly, even though Julia could never recall offending them. It was just the scars. Somehow, she'd managed to bear up remarkably well thus far into the season, but tonight, coming so close on the heels of the musicale debacle, she found that she could not tolerate much more. Her psyche was bruised and battered; she did not need fresh hurt piled atop the old.
As quietly as possible, Julia slipped out from behind the column, thankful that her pale pink silk gown helped her blend in with all of the other unmarried young ladies. If she was lucky, she could escape to the retiring room, find Avaria, and be on her way back to the townhouse in Mayfair within minutes. Unfortunately, luck was not on her side, as usual.
"Is that you, Miss Rosemont?" The screech of Henrietta's voice cut loudly through the ballroom, and Julia winced inwardly, knowing that soon, every eye in the room would be turned in her direction. "I had thought you would stay home tonight after the fright you gave Letitia the other evening. In fact, I was certain it would compel you to stay home."
Her words hung in the now largely quiet ballroom, making Julia blush furiously. She tended to blush all over, something she could not control. Unfortunately, her scarred face, not to mention what was visible of her neck and chest, blanched white rather than red or pink, making her skin look like a mottled patchwork of fabric - red, pink, and cream all mixed with deathly white. Certainly not at all attractive.
"I had an obligation to see to this evening," Julia demurred as she lowered her eyes, praying that Avaria was nearby, and wondering, again, where the other woman had gotten off to now. It seemed that every moment Julia turned her back, the other woman snuck off to sleep some place, leaving her charge very much alone to fend off the wolves herself. "However, I can assure you that I was just leaving."
"An obligation?" Somehow, Letitia's voice carried farther than her friend's had, though Julia had no idea how that was even possible. "After what you did to me, frightening me so! Why, I should demand that you leave this instant! It's not proper..."
"It's not proper for young ladies to screech like banshees, either," a deep, rumbling voice tinged with anger interrupted Letitia's tirade, "yet you seem to be carrying on just so, and no one is insulting you."
Julia saw Letitia's mouth snap shut, and she looked up to see a man's gloved hand extended towards her. "My apologies for being so late, Lady Julia. The delay was unfortunate, but unavoidable. However, I am here now and shall claim the dance I requested."
"But you can't..." This time it was Lady Henrietta shrieking, and Julia knew precisely why. The rage of jealousy was written all over the other woman's face.
"I can do whatever I like, I assure you," he replied in a haughty tone, one filled with a curious mix of derision and distain, as if Henrietta were just barely above his notice. "And that includes dancing with t
he loveliest lady in the room this evening." If Julia's fate hadn't been sealed before, those uttered by the man would surely bring Henrietta to the brink of rage. Not because of the words, but because of who uttered them.
Julia's would-be rescuer was none other than Benjamin Sinclair, the Duke of Radcliffe, and the most sought-after bachelor of the ton. Not to mention one of the wealthiest. Or most attractive, at least in Julia's opinion. Every unattached lady, and even some of the married ones, panted after Radcliffe as if he was a juicy steak they were all starving mongrels. Two weeks earlier, she'd heard Henrietta express her belief that it was only a matter of time before the duke became enamored of her considerable charms, and whisked her off to Spring House, his ancestral home, where he would marry her by special license, unable to wait for the banns to be called.
Now, not only was the duke paying attention to Julia, but he had publicly chastised the very woman who had convinced herself that she was to be the future Duchess of Radcliffe. This would not end well for Julia and she knew it. Perhaps not tonight, but later on, at another event. Even though there were only a few scant weeks left in the season, that was still plenty of time for her life to become a living hell.
Right now, Julia's first instinct was to run, but she knew better. If she fled, that would only cause a greater scene. Instead, she placed her hand in the duke's and looked up into gloriously beautiful eyes that could only be described as violet-hued and smiled, knowing that her scars would not terrify him as they did other men.
"Thank you, my lord," she said with a low curtsey, praying that her voice did not shake with the fear she felt. "I had no doubt that you would arrive when you could." Then she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and away from the two women who would, like as not, wish to damn her to perdition.
Benjamin Sinclair was seething. How dare those women treat Julia with such distain! Those scars, her exile, none of those were her fault. He really did mean to speak with his old friend Nicholas after this miserable event and ask him about Julia's chaperone, who, Benjamin had been quick to notice, had not been in sight much of the evening, no matter how hard Julia had searched for her.
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