Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  He settled her into her seat and sat at her side, reaching out to take her hand in his.

  “Miles, what has happened?” Eliza’s mouth felt dry, and she could hardly say the words.

  “I do not know how to say this, but it appears that your father is not the only one with financial concerns.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It would seem that my father was rather relying on the dowry that your father had promised him in the event of our marriage.”

  “But it was not so large, was it?”

  “No, but it seems that it was necessary.”

  “And so what now? What does that mean?” Eliza asked, knowing the answer, knowing she did not want to hear it, and yet knowing that she must ask.

  “I am afraid that I will not be able to marry you, Eliza,” he said and could not meet her eye.

  “For goodness sake, did the dowry mean that much? Was that all I was worth?”

  “My father has insisted that I choose a bride elsewhere now that it seems unlikely that your father will be able to pay any dowry at all.”

  “But just days ago you said that you would never give up on me. You said that you would not let me go without a fight, and now it seems that you will not even stand up to your own father. Miles, I love you. And you led me to believe that you loved me too.”

  “Of course I love you, Eliza. You know I do.”

  “You love me, and yet you have given up so easily? It is bad enough that my father has given up on me, but at least he is about to lose everything. Surely your father is not in the same situation; I cannot think that he is.”

  “No, but every estate needs new money to come into it. That is how they survive, my dear. It is no good me inheriting an estate from my father that is not thriving. It would do neither you nor I any good whatsoever.”

  “I wish you would not tell me what would or would not do me good, Miles. I do not expect such riches. All I ever wanted was you. I would make any economy I needed to so that you and I could be married, and I am sure that you are clever enough to find some other way to bring money into this estate as time goes by.”

  “But do you not see that it is a risk I cannot take?”

  “No, I see that it is a risk you will not take, and there sits the difference,” she said angrily, utterly tired of the deep sense of self-pity the most important men in her life had displayed in the recent days. “Because that would take courage, would it not? And perhaps only a little courage at that.”

  “I wish you would not argue with me on the matter, Eliza, for I find it extraordinarily painful. You cannot think that I am happy about any of this; you cannot think that I have not suffered unending sleeplessness.”

  “But your sleeplessness will end when you find a wife of means, will it not? It seems that mine will never end, but what of it? What man in my world would give a care for anything that I suffer?” She rose to her feet, hardly recognizing her angry tone. “I will never again believe in the courage of men, that much I can promise you.”

  She began to march angrily towards the door, determined that she would be away from the house before the first of her devastated tears began to fall. She would have to maintain her anger, to nurse it and hold onto it to give her at least that much dignity in the face of so complete a humiliation.

  “Eliza, please,” he said, echoing her father’s own plea in the face of her anger.

  “No,” she said, her voice cold and her heart aching. “It is not men who need courage in this world, it is women. And why? Because we are the ones who are treated no better than pieces on a chess board. We simply come with purses attached to us, or not as the case may be, and we are served accordingly. You may have suffered a sleepless night, perhaps even two, but if this is as strong as you are, you would never be able to manage the fate which I will have to accept with dignity,” she said and opened the door, dashing out of it at speed.

  By the time she reached the carriage, tears were welling in her eyes. She looked over her shoulder briefly, fearful that he would be following her. When she saw that he did not follow, Eliza realized that she felt worse still.

  Miles really had meant it, he would not marry her. Perhaps it had served his purpose well that she had been quick to anger and removed herself from his presence before he had to take on board any more guilt before his future sleep was threatened any further.

  The driver, somewhat taken aback, jumped down from his seat and quickly helped her into the carriage, driving away without awaiting her instructions.

  “Oh, my dear Eliza, whatever has happened?” Ariadne said, already becoming upset before she even knew what had passed between Eliza and Miles.

  “The worst, Ariadne.” Eliza began to sob. “The very worst.”

  Chapter 3

  Daniel Winchester had already been waiting in the Duke’s study for more than half an hour by the time his employer arrived. It was not uncommon for Daniel to have to wait for him; it just seemed to irk him today where ordinarily it would not have done.

  Perhaps it was because the Duke had insisted that Daniel attend his forthcoming nuptials to the daughter of the Earl of Bexley.

  In truth, there was not much in this world which fed Daniel a larger dose of boredom than attending somebody else’s wedding. For one thing, he could hardly believe the match to be a natural one, born of the deepest regard of one person for another.

  After all, how could it be? The Duke was an unfit man who had run to fat and looked very much more than his five and fifty years. And as for the bride, she was reported to be something of a beauty, and at just nineteen years, entirely unsuitable for his employer.

  Something about it all irritated Daniel Winchester and made him glad that he was simply a man of middle-class with education, a well-developed intelligence, and a sense that the people who behaved in such a way were most certainly not his betters.

  Whilst Daniel had the greatest respect for the man who had become his sole client over the years, he had never felt cowed before him. He did not consider himself to be a part of the household staff, for he was not.

  He was a successful and skillful attorney of many years standing. But he did not cower and simper before the Duke as so many other professional men did, and certainly all his staff.

  In his heart, he knew that that was precisely why the Duke always treated him with respect, and he had never suffered as a result of one of his occasionally capricious moods.

  But he had to admit that the idea of the Duke marrying such a young woman somehow diminished the man in his eyes. He thought it rather made a fool of him to harbour any idea that a young woman who was barely more than a girl would find any attraction for him whatsoever.

  “Ah, there you are, my dear fellow.” The Duke blustered into the room on a wave of jolly well-being that he seemed to have enjoyed for several days already.

  No doubt he was excited by the idea of some feminine company after so many years of living without.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” Daniel said and tipped his head dutifully without overdoing it.

  “Well, you must forgive my tardiness this morning; I have been giving my housekeeping instructions on how to lay out my chamber henceforth.” The Duke gave Daniel a wily smile as if to insist that he acknowledge the fact that the older man would soon be sharing his bed.

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Daniel smiled. “You had some matter of business for me, I believe?” he went on, hoping to steer his employer away from the excitement he was finding so distasteful.

  “Oh yes, it is simply a matter of a little banking,” he said and began to rifle through a pile of papers on his desk, keenly searching for something. “Ah, here it is,” the Duke said with a hint of triumph.

  The Duke had handed him the sheet of paper, and Daniel immediately realized what it was. It held the details of the Earl of Bexley’s own attorney and there, beneath that, was written down a sum of money so large that Daniel almost drew in his breath.

  So, the Duke was goin
g to pay handsomely for his bride. To Daniel, it made the man’s excitement all the more pathetic and unseemly.

  “You wish me to arrange a payment to be made to the Earl of Bexley’s attorney, Your Grace?” Daniel said pointlessly.

  “Yes, the very same, Winchester. I should like it to be completed the morning before the wedding. I know it is perhaps jumping the gun a little, but I should like to show a certain amount of good faith with my bride-to-be’s father.”

  Daniel had had no hand whatsoever in the procurement of the Duke’s bride. Whatever deal had been struck between the Duke of Lytton and the Earl of Bexley, it had been done privately between the two of them.

  If he was honest, Daniel was glad of it. He was an attorney and a man of some principles, and he could not have supported the idea of presiding over the business side of such a tawdry arrangement. There were such elements of the upper-class society that Daniel could not abide, and matrimony for financial reasons was chief among them.

  He knew, of course, that such weddings, such unions, existed within the middle classes, especially those who sought to climb and claw their way further up.

  But he was of the opinion that the upper classes had most certainly mastered the art, and whilst looking down on all around them, they still managed to loosen and bend the rules for themselves where they would not for others.

  Still, it was the Duke’s affair. Daniel was just his attorney and the Duke just his client and that was all.

  The Duke was, in fact, his only client, and more than once Daniel had wondered at the sense in that.

  Over the years the Duke, a man who was seemingly unable to make a decision unaided, had leaned upon his attorney more and more, treating him as an overseer, a steward, even a confidante, as well as being his legal adviser.

  There was no denying that it paid well, but Daniel had often suffered the impression that he had put all his eggs into one basket, and by letting his private client base diminish year by year, had perhaps tied his own fortunes too closely to those of the Duchy.

  “And in any case,” the Duke went on, “I should like you to be entirely free for the day of my wedding. I cannot have you tearing about the county making final arrangements for a transfer of monies, can I?”

  “No, indeed, Your Grace,” Daniel said and groaned inwardly.

  “After all, I should like you to be there,” the Duke said and smiled.

  At that moment, Daniel realized that the Duke of Lytton was attempting to treat him as a friend of sorts. Perhaps he did not realize it himself, but Daniel knew that the Duke had very few close friends. He had more acquaintances than Daniel could count, but none he would confide in with the sort of matters he had often confided in his attorney.

  With a brittle smile, Daniel wondered if that was a position that he truly wanted. And yet, at the same time, the idea of his employer’s determination to have Daniel at his wedding made him feel a little sad.

  All in all, Daniel knew that a firm list of private clients in the county would see him free of such unwanted feelings and dubious responsibilities. Perhaps it was something that he would be wise to work towards.

  Eliza’s wedding was due to take place in the Duke of Lytton’s own private chapel. As far as she was aware, there was a very small list of attendees, not that she could have cared less.

  Her own family had made a great effort with their appearance on that morning and perhaps even more so with their determination to lift her spirits.

  Even Henry was being excessively kind, and she could not bear it. Why could they not have been kinder in making their plans than they were on the day they were sacrificing her for the sake of themselves?

  Of course, just as her father had said, the final decision had rested with Eliza herself. But with her heart fully broken by Miles Gainsborough and her feeling of abandonment almost complete, Eliza could see no other option. If she stayed with her family, she would join in their ruin and feel their growing hatred for her forevermore.

  As much as they claimed to love her now, and she was sure they truly did, that love would turn into something else altogether when they were all living much more impoverished lives.

  Bit by bit, they would each come to blame her for their misfortunes, never once wondering how it was the family had come to be in such a position in the first place. But that would not matter, not when they had looked upon her as the only person who could solve it all.

  And so, in the end, Eliza had given in. She knew that she would find no suitable husband for herself now, not when word of the Earl of Bexley’s downfall had spread through the county.

  Once that was known, no young man of note would approach her. She realized now how the world worked, how it turned on an axis built entirely of money, and she could have no hope for future happiness for herself whilst her mind was firmly fixed on the cold reality of life.

  Eliza had visited the Lytton Hall estate only once prior to her impending marriage, spending only one afternoon with the man with whom she was intending to spend the rest of her life. And, as far as she was concerned, that was enough.

  She was never going to devote herself to getting to know a man she could not love. Why should she?

  And so, when her father’s carriage drew the silent Ashton family onto the Duke’s estate, it was only the second time she had ever seen it.

  The carriage ride from the entrance gate to the hall itself took almost fifteen minutes; the estate was so vast. The outer reaches of the estate seemed to be a wall of dense woodland, so lush and green that Eliza forgot her cares for a moment. Perhaps she would be able to find some solace in such a beautiful place when her day-to-day life came to be lived out at Lytton Hall.

  “You really do look beautiful, my dear,” Eliza’s mother said, her voice breaking with emotion.

  “Thank you,” Eliza said in a voice that seemed to be devoid of all feeling, even if her heart was breaking beneath her cool exterior.

  In the moments when she had realized that she would never be able to appeal to either Miles or any member of her family, Eliza had decided to deny them everything.

  They would not have her tears and her sadness; they would not have her fear. But they would not have her love and kindness either.

  Eliza had intended to withdraw every shred of emotion and feeling that she had ever afforded them for it was the only thing that was keeping her sane.

  It was the only little matter over which she had control in this world, and she intended to keep the reins of her heart firmly within her own grip.

  And her new husband, the man who had paid so handsomely for her, would suffer little better himself. She would do as she was told; she would behave, and she would conform. But she would never let that man have one ounce of her emotion, never let him see a single feeling escape from her.

  As far as Eliza Ashton was concerned, they were all one and the same person; her father, her brother, her mother, the Duke, and Miles Gainsborough. And none of them would ever, ever be close to her again.

  When they finally arrived outside the intimidating, immense stone walls of Lytton Hall, Eliza allowed her father to help her down from the carriage. The moment that her feet were on the gravel, she hastily shook her arm from his grip and began to walk towards the small chapel alone.

  She could hear the hasty footsteps of her family hurrying along behind her, keen to catch up and thwart any little scene that might be about to take place.

  Little did they know that there would be no little scene; there would be nothing for them to worry about, no embarrassment for them to bear.