by Matilda Hart
Regency Romance
A Lady's Powerful Duke
Matilda Hart
© Copyright 2016 by Matilda Hart - All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
A Lady's Powerful Duke
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
An Inconvenient Duchess Romance
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Saved by the Duke
Introduction
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
Charmed by a Duke
Introduction
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
The Romantic Marquess
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Winning The Duke’s Love
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Romanced by the Duke
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Dominated by A Duke
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Touched by A Marquess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
A Marquess and his Birde
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
My Duke’s Desire
Introduction
Prologue
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
Epilogue
A Duchess’s Affair
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1 -- Charlotte
Chapter 2 -- Barrington
Chapter 3 -- Charlotte
Chapter 4 -- Barrington
Chapter 5 -- Charlotte
Chapter 6 -- Barrington
Chapter 7 -- Charlotte
Chapter 8 -- Barrington
Epilogue
In Bed With a Duke
Introduction
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
Seduced By a Duke
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Desired By a Duke
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
The Duke’s Temptations
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1 — At Sandcross Abbey
Chapter 2 — The Interrogation
Chapter 3 — The Revelation
Chapter 4 — Homecoming
Chapter 5 — The In-Laws
Chapter 6 — Husband and Wife
Chapter 7 — The Ancient Dance of Love
Chapter 8 — The Plot Thickens
Chapter 9 — Return to Sandcross Abbey
Chapter 10 — Happy Ever After
The Rogue Duke
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
My Rogue Duchess
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
A Lady's Powerful Duke
Introduction
Emilia MacNeil is an
independent miss. Truth be told, she’s a bit of a tomboy, and many’s the proper lady who has called her a hussy for her sometimes less than ladylike behavior. But Emilia remains unrepentant. She’s as good as any man, and better than some, and the last thing she wants is to be married to any of them. She’ll happily be an aunt to her siblings’ children, but she wants nothing to do with marriage. Enter Lord Cedric Hanson, Duke of Roxburgh. According to her father the Marquess, the Duke is to be her husband, but Emilia refuses to comply. When she is brought back after her first attempt at escape is foiled, she vows to take the battle to the enemy, so to speak. But every attempt she makes to escape is hindered, first by the guards who accompany her and her father to the Duke’s seat, and afterwards by the Duke himself. Their game of hide and seek eventually leads to more, as Emilia finds herself reluctantly admiring the man who would take her freedom. Admiration becomes arousal...becomes more. In the end, on her wedding day, Emilia must choose between the independence she has fought for all her life and the man she has come to love.
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Chapter 1
“You cannot be serious, Papa!” Emilia’s voice echoed in the study as she sprang from her chair in a most unladylike manner. “I do not even know this man whom you have sold me to!”
The Marquess of Earnshire shook his head impatiently. “Do refrain from such ridiculous exaggerations, Emilia! It does not become a lady! The matter is settled. Contrary to your hysterical accusation, no money has exchanged hands. The Duke is ready to wed, and I am prepared to give him his desire. I have seen my two older children make successful marriages, and it is my duty to ensure that the same happens for you. The Earl of Roxburgh is a very wealthy man, and not unpleasant company. You will do well with him. You are to be married, and there’s an end of it.”
He walked away from his fuming daughter, back around to sit in the chair behind his desk, and picked up the glass he had filled with brandy ten minutes ago as his daughter had stormed into the room.
“That is what this is all about, is it not, Papa?” Emilia retorted. “It’s about enlarging your coffers. You do not care if I am happy. Your only concern is to ensure your place in English society. You wish to be known as part of the inner circle.”
She stood and paced angrily away from the desk, turning back to pin her father with a fulminating glare. “Why me? What could he possibly want with someone whom he doesn’t know, and for whom he can feel no affection?”
The Marquess snorted. “Affection? Marriages are not based on affection, my dear child. You know this. Marriage is meant to produce heirs, secure a future for one’s children, and cement one’s social standing. You are my daughter. I can do no less for you than I have done for your sisters.”
Emilia wished she could scream the way she wanted to. It had not been an issue until now. The question of her marriage had never been raised, and she had harbored the faint hope that her sisters’ marriages would suffice until she was old enough to refuse to marry anyone her father sent her way. But she was still not yet twenty-one, and her father was a wily, calculating man. His announcement of his intentions, over breakfast earlier, had been made with little regard for her clear objections or feeling on the matter. He had never been a reasonable man, even in his best moments, and Emilia knew there was no hope for her unless she took matters into her own hands. She would not escape this fate her father had planned for her unless she did something about it herself.
Pacing in his study, filled with a most unladylike fury, she recalled the way their breakfast conversation had started. She ought to have been more careful of her response, but she had had no inkling of his intention. Her father had never broached the subject of marriage with her, for which she had been grateful. Besides, he knew her thoughts on the subject. She had not made any bones about expressing her desire to remain single for life. At her oldest sister’s betrothal announcement, Emilia had declared,
“I cannot see myself being tied down to a crusty old gentleman whom I will have to care for in his dotage. I enjoy my freedom too much to wish to relinquish it for marriage.”
That had been three years ago, before she turned eighteen. Her sister Joanna, then twenty-four, had been despairing of ever finding anyone to marry her. She, at least, had wanted to be married, and was therefore overjoyed when the Marquess had presented her with a suitor...even if the man was fifteen years her senior, and woefully insipid, as far as Emilia was concerned. Joanna had accepted his proposal with alacrity, and was now the proud mother of twin boys, aged two.
At breakfast, her father had casually mentioned their visit to Manchester a year ago, and she had replied that she had enjoyed the outing.
“It was good to get away for a while, Papa,” she had said. “Are we to repeat the visit?”
“We have been invited to go again, yes,” he had replied.
Emilia had noted the way he avoided her eyes as he answered, but she told herself it meant nothing.
“When is this visit to be, then, Papa? I would like to be back home in time for the Michaelmas Ball.”
“Perhaps you will be able to enjoy the ball there, daughter,” he had said.
And that was when her suspicions began to arise. Her father was up to something, and she wanted to know what it was.
“Why would I want to do that?” she had asked. “I am not acquainted with anyone there.”
“Ah, but you do know his lordship the Earl.” He had regarded her with sharp eyes.
“I would not call a five-minute conversation and one dance ‘knowing’ that gentleman, Papa. And still, why would he wish to entertain us at his home for such an event? We are not friends of his family.”
The Marquess had answered almost at once. “But we will be, my dear. We will be.”
Emilia had felt goosebumps go up and down her arms. “How so, Papa?”
“The Duke has requested your hand in marriage, and I have consented to his suit.”
Even now, as she paced in front of her father’s desk, the shock and rage she had felt still made her body tremble. She had hastily excused herself from the table and run up to her room, slamming the door before balling her fist and pushing it into her mouth to stifle her screams of outrage. This could not be happening!
“Papa, I beg you to reconsider. I do not want this. I don’t know the man, nor have any opinion of him. And I don’t wish to marry anyone. You know this!”
Emilia stood before her father, her hands fisted tightly against her thighs, hoping there was even a scrap of understanding in her parent’s heart. This was her last attempt to get him to change his mind. If he didn’t, she knew she had to do something. And she would.
The Marquess rose to his feet and went to stand next to his daughter. Emilia could feel the warmth of his body against her as he turned her to face him and dropped a curiously tender kiss on her brow.
“I know you think I am a foolish and grasping old man, my dear, and perhaps you are right.” He sighed. “But I am also a father of three daughters, and despite your earlier accusations, I do care about what happens to each of you. It would be remiss of me to neglect your welfare for the future because you have some misguided ideas about marriage. Parents must often do things their children will never understand, if it is for their own good.”
He tipped her face up to his, and Emilia saw conflicting emotions warring in his eyes before he looked away, and went back to stand behind his desk.
“My mind is made up, I’m afraid, my child. I cannot give in to your pleadings in this matter. Your future happiness and comfort
are more important than your present anger.” He steepled his fingers on the desk before saying, “You will marry the Duke of Roxburgh. He and I have made an agreement, and I intend to keep it. That is all.”
Emilia actually growled, grinding her teeth in frustration. She answered before he could speak further, and remembered her manners enough to say, before walking out,
“Forgive me, Papa. I cannot pretend to be happy about this decision.”
Up the stairs, she walked into her bedchamber again, and sat on the edge of her sumptuous bed, trying to clear her thoughts of anger and resentment. She needed to focus on escape. She had to run away. The ‘how’ of doing so was the subject of her thoughts for the rest of the day until dinner, by which time, she had a plan. She would need clothes other than her own gowns if she was to escape notice. Going below stairs, ostensibly to ask about the menu for dinner, she had ascertained that one of the maids was making repairs to the stable boy’s shirt and trousers, both of which he had ripped when he had been thrown off the Marquess’s favorite stallion. The animal was often still a little wild, and the stable boy had lost his seat more than once as he was exercising him.
She noted where the maid put the boy’s clothes. After dinner, she excused herself, begging off any after dinner activities on the grounds that she had a bad head. Her father would have no reason to disbelieve her, given the subject and tenor of their conversation earlier in the day. It would make sense to him that she would have the headache. In her room, she first applied the shears to her hair, cutting it so that it barely touched her ears, and then she lay down, knowing she would need to rest for the exertions she was planning for the dead of night, when the household would be asleep. She listened for her father’s heavy footsteps as he made his way past her room to his own bedchamber, and pulled her dressing gown on over her chemise. She would need a small bag, but she thought she might find something in the stable.
Moving quietly down the long hallway, avoiding the places where she knew the floorboards creaked, she crept down the stairs, easing her way along past her father’s study and the drawing room to the second set of stairs leading to the bowels of the ancient house. She was not as familiar with these steps, but managed to make it to the lower level without mishap. The room where the maid had left the boy’s clothing served as a kind of office for the housekeeper, and the door was locked, but Emilia knew where the key was located. Quietly unlocking the door, she cringed when it squeaked and waited breathlessly to be discovered. When no one appeared after a long wait, she ventured in, and hurriedly donned the tattered garments. Despite their being small, they were still large on her, and she was forced to roll up the legs of the breeches and the sleeves of the shirt. She had no belt to tie around her waist to keep the pants up, but she knew she could find some rope in the stables.
