The Forgotten Duke
Diamonds in the Rough
Sophie Barnes
Contents
Also by Sophie Barnes
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Sneak Peek: A Most Unlikely Duke
Chapter 1
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Sophie Barnes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover Design and Interior Format by The Killion Group, Inc.
Also by Sophie Barnes
By Sophie Barnes
Novels
The Forgotten Duke
More Than a Rogue
The Infamous Duchess
No Ordinary Duke
The Illegitimate Duke
The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past
The Duke of Her Desire
Christmas at Thorncliff Manor
A Most Unlikely Duke
His Scandalous Kiss
The Earl’s Complete Surrender
Lady Sarah’s Sinful Desires
The Danger in Tempting an Earl
The Scandal in Kissing an Heir
The Trouble with Being a Duke
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda
There’s Something About Lady Mary
Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure
How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back
Novellas
When Love Leads To Scandal
Miss Compton’s Christmas Romance
The Duke Who Came To Town
The Earl Who Loved Her
The Governess Who Captured His Heart
Mistletoe Magic (from Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection)
1
London
September, 1820
Everything in Regina’s life had always gone according to plan. She’d been born on March fourteenth, exactly as the physician and midwife had predicted. Since then, her sole purpose had been to become an accomplished lady. She’d been educated in a manner befitting the daughter of a British peer. And so, it was not surprising that she could play the pianoforte, embroider monograms on handkerchiefs, converse in French, and dance as if floating on air.
Her life was as it should be, as it had been designed to be, and she had no illusions about the duty that would one day be required of her. As a female, she would have to make the best possible match. Love would not factor into this eventuality since her marriage would without doubt be one of convenience.
Her parents had spent the last eighteen years preparing her for this. And yet her father, Charles Berkly, Earl of Hedgewick, still managed to surprise her when he interrupted tea one afternoon to inform her that she and the Marquess of Stokes were to be married.
The very next day.
By special license.
Apprehensive and slightly dazed, Regina told herself that all would be well. Her father had made a magnificent match – one that would elevate not only her but her entire family. She trusted him to have her best interests at heart, so she did not think to protest the hasty union or to remind her father that she and Stokes had never met. Instead, she breathed a sigh of relief when he described the marquess as a handsome youth with a fondness for poetry and music. She imagined herself enjoying his company, of entertaining him in the evenings with music and song, and of giving him children as duty required. She convinced herself that in time, love would blossom between them and that they would be happy together.
But when Stokes arrived that same evening for an introductory dinner, and was shown into the parlor by Plath, the butler, Regina realized that everything she’d imagined was but an illusion. Instead, she was expected to walk into hell and live there.
The resolve required to maintain her composure as Stokes approached her, to drop into an elegant curtsey and not run screaming from the room, was extraordinarily difficult. Like sitting still while a swarm of bees tried to sting you. But she now understood why she’d never met the marquess before and why she had to marry him faster than she could blink. Most likely, her father hoped to complete the task before she realized she was marrying a child.
Even though it was rather difficult not to notice such a thing, considering Stokes’s appearance. He had the typical rounded features of a young adolescent with a lanky body to match. Regina supposed he could be fifteen, if she were lucky, but rather feared he might be much younger than that. His face was regrettably covered in pimples of varying sizes, though this was the least problematic aspect since he would likely be rid of those within a few years. Of greater concern was his difficult gait, which suited an aging old man much better. And when he extended his hand to Regina, the stiff rigidity forcing his fingers to curl at odd angles was more than she could bear.
With a gasp, she looked up, only to be met by pain in his eyes. The heartbeats thumping fast inside her slowed, easing a path toward sympathetic understanding. He did not want this marriage any more than she did.
So Regina smiled. Not because she was pleased on either of their behalves, but because it was what Stokes deserved. However difficult this situation was for her, surely it must be worse for him, not only because he was so much younger but because he probably thought she would spurn him.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my lord,” she said as she placed her hand in his.
Behind him, his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Windham, looked on with a mixture of hopefulness and concern.
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” Stokes told her politely. He gave her hand a gentle pull and she let him create the appearance of helping her rise. “Perhaps the two of us can take a turn about the room together before we’re called in for dinner?”
“I’d like that,” Regina said. She deliberately avoided looking over at her brother Marcus, whose glower she could feel as acutely as the heat emanating from the fireplace. He would undoubtedly have some choice words with their parents later, but for now, Regina believed the best policy would be to make the most of an already difficult situation.
So she placed her hand lightly on the arm Stokes offered and forced her steps to match his as they moved toward the far end of the room.
They reached the bay window looking out on the dusky garden and drew to a halt. Giving her a sideways glance, Stokes spoke in a low whisper. “I am sorry about all of this. When my parents told me of their intention to see me wed, I did my best to dissuade them. But Papa is determined to secure the lineage of his title and with the undeniable progression of my illness, he sees Hedgewick’s offer as the only hope of doing so.”
His comment caused numerous issues to poke and prod at Regina’s mind, like how her father had apparently started all of this by approaching Windham. And the idea that she would have to lie with him tomorrow after the wedding.
Forcing all her aversions to this aside, she chose to get to know this boy whose life must be unbearabl
y difficult, and asked, “Do the physicians know what it is that ails you?”
He inhaled deeply, as if this subject required additional strength. “They say it is primary asthenic gout.” He looked at her directly. “Incurable, by all accounts.”
“I am sorry.” It was all she could think to say even though she knew it was not enough.
“Apparently, it is rare in children, which makes me special according to some physicians.” He gave a low snort. “I must say I’ve never felt so myself.”
Regina winced. The physicians were idiots if they believed that Stokes would find comfort in such a notion. “How long have you suffered like this?”
“The symptoms began five years ago and have been progressing since.”
Hoping he wouldn’t detect the pity she felt for him, she casually asked, “And how old are you now, if you do not mind my asking.”
“Fourteen.” The edge of his mouth lifted and for a second she caught a glimpse of the fun-loving boy he might have been if he’d been granted good health. “It is the age of consent for a boy, provided his parents approve.”
Regina nodded. The duke and duchess were hoping to marry him off as expediently as possible before he got worse and lost his chance completely.
Determined to put a positive spin on the situation, Regina said, “You’re probably the most eligible bachelor I’ve ever met. A pity you’re going to be squandered on an old woman like me.”
He grinned with what appeared to be genuine amusement. “I doubt there’s a woman in all of England as beautiful as you.”
She nudged him slightly while giving him a sly smile. “Top points for charm and for not inquiring about my age.”
Affecting a debonair look, he said, “No proper gentleman would ever think to do so.”
“I am eighteen,” Regina confessed with a chuckle.
“And entirely wasted on me.”
Regret flickered in his eyes and Regina’s heart squeezed painfully in response. “Don’t say that. You and I—”
“Have no hope of happiness.” His blunt statement, as obviously simple as it was, jarred Regina’s soul.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered.
“Why not?” He gave her a quizzical look. “It is the truth, when you think of it.” When she said nothing in response to this, he added, “My illness will not kill me for at least a couple of decades.”
With a gulp, she met his gaze head on. “I should hope not.”
“You say that now, but as I deteriorate with time, you will regret being my wife, just as much as I will regret ruining your life.”
Regina stared at him and as she did so, it occurred to her that she had to find a way to save them both. Perhaps they could have the marriage annulled immediately after? It was an option, though not a very good one when she considered the vicar who would be conducting the ceremony. He ought not be able to do so unless she and Stokes gave their consent. And yet, it was becoming increasingly clear that they would be pronounced husband and wife no matter what they said or did. Their parents were powerful people. What chance did she and a child stand against their determined wills?
Fear started to drip through Regina like freezing rain. “I’ll find a way out of this,” she assured him.
He raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“I don’t know.” Short of running away…
Her nerves tightened in response to that thought. It went against the obligation instilled in her since childhood. It felt wrong and disobedient and…wonderfully freeing, all things considered.
Swallowing, she glanced sideways. Assembled on the sofa and in the armchairs were their family members, all watching with syrupy smiles painted on their faces.
Except for Marcus, who looked rather grim. His eyebrows were drawn together, one partially obscured by a dark blonde lock of hair. Jaw tight, he appeared to be holding a great deal of anger in check. If she were to flee, she would miss him the most, which was something she contemplated a great deal as the evening wore on.
When the time eventually came for Stokes and his parents to depart, he stepped close enough to Regina so he could whisper next to her ear, “Time is running out.” He leaned back and gave her the sort of sad smile that quickened her pulse with the knowledge that only she had the power to act.
“We shall see you again in the morning,” Lord Windham said as if they were preparing to start a joint venture together, which Regina supposed they were, in a way.
Hedgewick smiled with the satisfaction of a lion who’d just caught a fat gazelle. “Eight o’clock sharp.” He smiled again and bowed toward Lady Windham. A few more parting words were spoken and then Stokes was helped down the front steps of Hedgewick House and into the awaiting carriage. The front door closed with a deep thud and Regina expelled a long breath.
“Well,” Hedgewick said, turning about so he could regard his family. “That went rather splendidly I’d say.”
“The Windhams are delightful people,” Louise said in support of her husband. “Very proper and most elegantly attired.”
Marcus stared at them both as if they’d just performed a series of cartwheels. “Are you serious?” Apparently he’d decided the time had come to speak up. “That is all you have to say?”
“What else is there?” Louise asked her son in that timid voice that had always been so comforting and soothing. Now it just sounded weak and devoid of character. Like tepid tea.
“I don’t know,” Marcus clipped in an acrid tone that warned Regina of the argument to come. “How about the fact that you’re planning to foist Regina off on a decrepit child?”
Hedgewick’s eyes darkened to storm cloud grey. “Your sister is going to be a duchess one day.”
“At what cost?” Marcus asked. He swung around to face Regina. “You cannot go through with this. I won’t permit it.”
“You. Won’t. Permit. It?” Hedgewick’s voice trembled while fine flecks of spittle flew from his mouth. His face had turned beet red. Leaning forward, he glared at his son. “Perhaps if you were head of this family you’d have a say in the matter. But you don’t.” He turned his attention on Regina whose skin began to prick in response to his anger. She’d never seen him like this. He’d always been loving and kind. “Everything has been arranged, so the wedding will proceed as planned.” Leaning back, he puffed out an agitated breath through his nose. “I suggest you get some sleep now so you can be well-rested and ready.”
“Yes, Papa,” she obediently murmured while Marcus gave her a stupefied look of concern. Pretending to be agreeable seemed like the simplest option while coming to terms with the fact that not even her brother was able to sway her father’s decision.
“I do not understand you,” Marcus told her moments later when both of their parents had retired. “You cannot seriously want this for yourself.”
“Stokes isn’t so terrible.” She started up the stairs while Marcus trailed behind. “He and I will get along well with each other, I think.”
“But he’s…I mean…how will you…” His words were blown away on a heavy sigh of frustration.
“I have always known that I would marry for convenience. This isn’t much different than the women who have to marry men thrice their age.”
“It’s different in the sense that Stokes might stay alive for some time yet.”
“Good God,” Regina gasped as she halted halfway up the steps and glanced back at her brother. “I should certainly hope so.”
Marcus lifted one shoulder. “Forgive me. That comment was in bad taste. I just wish you could marry the man of your choosing and not be a pawn in whatever it is Papa’s trying to achieve.”
“You think there’s more to his wanting this marriage than social status alone?”
“Considering how angered he was by my mere suggestion that you not go through with the wedding, I’d say so. But I cannot imagine what it might be.”
Regina pondered this as she resumed her progress. When she reached her bedchamber, she paused. “I love
you dearly, Marcus. You know that, right?”
Tilting his head, he gave her an odd look. “Of course.”
She forced a smile. “Good.” She pressed down the handle and opened the door. Telling her brother she might not be there by morning would be a mistake. He’d only want to help her escape and thus implicate himself in her disappearance, which was something she could not allow. Besides, she still wasn’t sure she’d go through with it.
“I love you too,” he told her gently, and she was glad for the darkness because it stopped him from seeing the tears in her eyes. “Sleep well.”
Echoing his parting words, she entered her bedchamber, closed the door and leaned against it. Could she really run away? Her parents would not expect it, which would make the task so much easier. This was a benefit to being the dutiful daughter, the proper young lady who never strayed from protocol and always behaved with decorum. She could simply walk out the front door and vanish.
Glancing at the white lace gown hanging from a hook on the wall, Regina allowed the idea of running away to capture her imagination more fully. She’d worn the dress when she’d made her debut at the Coventry ball three months earlier. It had been altered slightly this afternoon by a maid tasked with turning it into her wedding dress. In Regina’s opinion, too much lace and silk netting had been added, but she supposed it would do. She stepped forward and touched the fabric, letting it slide between her fingers. The bonnet she would wear sat on her dressing table, with additional silk netting sewn onto the brim to create a frothy ruffle that descended toward the back where it fell away in a big voluminous tail.
Regina allowed a sad chuckle. She would look like a cake in this.
Her brow puckered even as she pulled the gown into her arms and pressed it against her chest. What would life be like for her if she married Stokes? It wasn’t as if she loved some other man. And yet, the realization that they wouldn’t dance with each other or ride together or enjoy the sort of active life that was meant for people their age was a blow. Instead, they would live like old people, imprisoned in some large manor somewhere.
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