Romance: Regency Romance: A Lady's Powerful Duke (A Regency Romance)

by Matilda Hart

  “I’m sorry! Connie, listen to me, please” and when I pushed it open, I was looking into the eyes of a naked woman with a very swollen belly who attempted to cover herself with her dress. I walked to my wardrobe and opened the heavy mahogany door, fished out the blue dress that I made for Thomas’ sister’s wedding and returned the door to its previously closed position.

  “Pardon me, miss. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I nodded as I shut the door behind myself and walked down the stairs, past Thomas, who stared at me with tears in his eyes.

  “Darling, please. Let me explain.” I stopped before I walked out the door.

  “No explanation necessary, dear. I know all I need to know and I know that what I need isn’t in this house. Not anymore.” I climbed into the signature blue Carlisle carriage and after I stepped inside, the duke leaned up and gave him a curt nod before the footman closed the door and took his place on the rear of the carriage. Heading back to Hartford Manor, the duke and I couldn’t contain our excitement and we couldn’t wait until the return trip home and he made a woman of me all over the English countryside.

  My things were sent for the next day and His Majesty granted the divorce when the duke pled my case in my stead.

  “This maiden wouldn’t happen to have a certain duke in her bed these days?” The king nudged but his younger cousin only replied,

  “A gentleman never tells, cousin but I may need your services officiating my wedding soon for I plan to marry this woman. I have found the elusive “one” cousin.” The king’s face was filled with a large smile as he agreed with most joy to announce the duke married to the love of his life.

  As he told me of his conversation with the king, he delivered a hand signed decree of divorce that was also given with the blessing of the king. Once again, my handsome duke dropped to his knee and this time, instead of a rose, presented the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen and I couldn’t wait for him to finish before I dropped to his level and threw my arms around him, kissing him with as much love as I could possibly find within myself, finally able to live my life with the one I love.

  THE END

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  The Duke’s Temptations

  Introduction

  Lavinia Thacker has a voice like an angel’s, and she happily sings for anyone who asks. The first time she sees the young Duke of Monsey, it is at a party being hosted in the inn’s large dining hall for a local councilman’s daughter. From that first look, she knows there is something between them, so when she is invited to sing at his birthday party, she is at once delighted and afraid. Why does she feel as though she knows him, when she has never met him before? Or at least, she doesn’t remember having done so. But then again, she doesn‘t remember much beyond the last year and a half. The accident from which she had awakened eighteen months earlier had left her with a terrible scar down her left side, and no memory of anything before she woke up. Is the Duke a part of her past? Does her husband know about it? And how will she handle falling in love with a man who is not her husband or of her social class?

  The old Duke of Monsey had plans for his only child, Robert, which did not include his marrying a commoner. But Robert is headstrong, and before the duke can stop it, his son and Lavinia Aston are married. Despite his rage at their action, the duke loves his son, and will not disinherit his true heir, or let his lands and fortune go to the oldest son of his deceased younger brother. His solution involves deception and kidnapping, and a stint at the front for his son. But when Robert returns home wounded, it is to find his father dead, and himself the new Duke. Attempting to relieve the double sorrow of a dead wife and father, Robert spends his time getting to know the villagers for whom he is the chief benefactor. But when he sees his dead wife married to the innkeeper, his rage knows no bounds, until he realizes she does not know who he is. Could he be wrong about her? Has something happened to make his wife forget him? And how will he get her back, if that’s the case?

  Prologue

  Tillygrove-0n-Rother was beautiful, even at this time of year, when the land was beginning to go to sleep for the winter. And this was his favorite time of year. Because it was at this time of year, almost two years ago, that he had met his only love, now lost, Lavinia St. Clair, nee Aston, late Duchess of Monsey. Robert St. Clair, the new Duke of Monsey, swallowed the lump in his throat, and leaned more heavily on the cane he was sometimes still forced to use after his injury in the war. A man of thirty and three years, Robert was often enraged by the injury that had brought him home from a war he had been happy to go into, because it made the anguish and pain of his loss diminish. Not only was it humiliating for him, but it meant reliving the horror of that night, eighteen months ago, when his dearest one had been taken and then violated and killed in an attack by highwaymen, and he had been helpless to protect her. No call for ransom had ever been made, and when his father had reported that her body had been found, he didn’t believe, and had demanded to see for himself. The proof had been a final blow to his heart...the horribly mutilated body of his wife, still in the dress she had been wearing, her shoes askew, her face swollen beyond recognition, her bright blond hair matted and muddy.

  Inhaling deeply, Robert shut down the ugly memories and turned away from the beautiful vista before him, watching as the young women he had been waiting for walked towards him. One had a basket in her hands. She was a pretty little thing, all big brown eyes and deep dimples. His cousin smiled as she reached him, and he smiled back at her. It was easy to do, because Alice St. Clair was possibly the most beautiful spirit he knew, other than his Lavinia, whom he had lost. She was nineteen years old, and had begged him to come on a picnic with her and her friend Mary Randall from the village. Mary was the local councilman’s daughter, and today was her twentieth birthday. Alice had promised her a visit to the estate, and a picnic lunch, before they got dressed up in finery, after which Robert would escort them both to her party.

  Robert himself had been invited, and he was taking his young cousin, who had been visiting for a week. She would return home in two days, and he would miss her. She had been the one truly bright spot in his dark existence these last six months, and he wondered how he would manage when her brother came to take her away. Shrugging off the unhappy thoughts, he let himself be taken by the hand and led the rest of the way down to the river’s edge, where the girls laid a thick blanket, and settled themselves on it, spreading out the contents of the basket while he arranged himself on the bench conveniently built nearby. Stretching out his injured leg, he watched as they arranged the food, and wondered again why he had let himself be talked into this activity.

  “Robert, what would you like?” Alice asked brightly.

  “To start today over, so that it would be Edgar here with you, not me,” he said truthfully.

  Alice laughed gaily, and threw an apple at him, which he caught expertly, laughing with her. He bit into it as she spoke.

  “You’re a much better big brother than Edgar is,” she said. “You’re not at all bossy or pompous like he is. Besides, you know you enjoy the company of pretty women.”

  Robert laughed again, and relaxed his spine against the back of the seat. He had to agree with his little
cousin about that. And in the last six months, it had been the company of pretty women that had helped to keep him from losing his mind when anger and sorrow beat at him. Every mother in the neighborhood had set her heart on helping the young Duke to grieve, including making sure that he had ample opportunities to meet and socialize with their daughters. The dinner and soiree invitations had been numerous, and he had accepted them all, partly because he needed to get to know the villagers, and partly to relieve his loneliness. His reputation as a lady’s man had preceded him, of course, and he had been hard pressed not to offend any of the hopeful mothers by appearing to favor one young girl over another.

  “Your brother loves you, Alice,” he said. “You are too impatient with him.”

  “My brother is a bore,” she replied breezily, reaching over to hand him a plate laden with food. “Now, tell me what you think of the pudding. Mary made it.”

  Robert dutifully tasted each thing put on his plate, and declared them all to be delicious, which pleased both girls enormously. Despite their age, both girls were still very innocent, and he fervently hoped that they would find husbands who would treat them well and make them happy. The thought brought his mind back to his Lavinia, and he put the food away, suddenly unable to eat another morsel. The girls’ happy chatter was a sharp contrast to his dark thoughts, and he was relieved beyond measure when they declared themselves ready to return to the manor house. He helped with the basket, and once back indoors, he hastened away to his rooms. His valet had already prepared his party wear, and a bath would shortly be made for him. He spent the rest of the afternoon until it was time to get dressed sipping brandy and brooding.

  The ride to the village took twenty minutes, and once there, they repaired to the inn, where the large dining hall had been cleared for the festivities. The room was already abuzz with people, all in good spirits, and Robert searched for a secluded place from which he could watch the proceedings without becoming too involved himself. There didn’t seem to be a quiet space, so he made do with the corner by the parlor, where there were the fewest people, no doubt because of its proximity to the window. After an unseasonably warm day, the evening had turned decidedly chilly. A cheerful fire burned brightly in the grate, and once dinner got underway, the heat of many bodies packed together made things considerably warmer.

  Eventually, before the dancing, the evening’s entertainment began. The innkeeper’s wife had a reputation as a tuneful singer, and Robert was looking forward to hearing her sing.

  “All right everyone. The moment we’ve all been looking forward to has finally arrived. Mrs, Thacker will now grace us with a few tunes!”

  The room quieted, and everyone’s attention turned to the parlor door near where Robert was standing. No one had gone in while he had been here, so the lady of the house had either been in there all along, which he could not imagine as the party had been in full swing for two hours already, or there was a door leading from elsewhere in the house to the parlor. He turned as he heard her begin to sing...the woman who emerged was veiled, so he could not quite see her face. She was tall and willowy, but not thin by any means. Her crystal-clear soprano voice sent shivers up his spine, reminding him of his dead Lavinia. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the veiled woman was his lost wife, because they sounded that much alike!

  Shaking himself, he concentrated on the song she was singing, and found it to be one of Lavinia’s favorites. Frowning slightly at the coincidence, he turned his attention to her completely, watching as she removed the veil from her face. She was now at the center of the room, her gestures quietly complementing the song she sang, but Robert neither heard nor saw anything other than the fact that the woman standing there, winning the hearts of every man, woman and child, was none other than his long-dead Lavinia! He would know those ruby lips, those high cheekbones, those lush breasts anywhere.

  His heart thumped furiously against his rib cage as she finished the first number to delighted applause. He could not move. Rage such as he had never felt before roared up from his gut, and he had to forcibly restrain himself from disrupting the proceedings. Whatever else was happening, this was not the time or place to confront his perfidious wife, or the man with whom she had committed bigamy. Charles Randall and his family had done him no harm, and he did not want to spoil young Mary’s birthday celebrations, or ruin Alice’s evening, by saying or doing any of the things that even then were occurring to him to say and do. He would wait to confront her once the singing portion of the evening was over, and then he would find an excuse to leave, and take his cousin with him.

  Despite the fury winging its way through his bloodstream, Robert knew he had not stopped loving the woman singing her second number, a rollicking tune that had the audience clapping along. His heart broke all over again as he contemplated the reasons that the woman he had loved with all his heart, whom he had thought loved him as much, would fake her own death to escape him. He felt a deep sense of outrage and loss, and his heart grew colder as the singing went on, so that by the time she was finally done, and everyone was cheering and whistling uproariously as they applauded her, he was like a cold slab of marble in the room.

  He turned to watch her walk back towards him, observed the bearded innkeeper reach out to pull her gently aside for a quick kiss, and saw red. He roared, causing everyone to stop in their tracks and turn to him in alarm. Alice ran to his side, but he barely felt her arm on his own as he struggled not to attack the man who was even then staring at him in horror. All he could see was his wife, also staring at him, but only with pity and curiosity. There was not even a spark of recognition in her robin’s-egg-blue eyes.

  “Cousin, are you well?”

  Alice’s voice, alarmed and afraid, broke through the haze of his fury, and he looked down at her.

  “No, I am not,” he admitted. “The song...it reminded me…” He stopped, not willing to add to his humiliation. “We must leave now.”

  He looked directly into the eyes of the innkeeper, and said, “Order my carriage brought round at once. Lady Alice and I are ready to leave.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he stalked past the couple, through the crowd of villagers, and out to the front vestibule of the inn, where he allowed someone to help him into his coat, and he helped Alice into hers. The woman at the center of his meltdown approached him with a basket, distress clear on her beautiful face.

  “Your Grace, please accept my humble apologies for causing you any distress this evening. Had I known that the songs I had chosen would unearth such painful memories for you, I would certainly have chosen others.”

  Despite his anger, and the hatred he felt trying to flow over him, he managed to answer her courteously, mostly because it was apparent to him that she had no idea who he was. Could he be mistaken somehow? Could this woman not be his Lavinia? Shaking his head, he dismissed the questions and replied,

  “Please do not discomfit yourself, madam. You had no way of knowing, nor can you be faulted for my weakness of spirit.”

  “Oh sir,” she replied, handing the basket to a serving girl, “it is not weakness of spirit to love someone so fully that everything connected with her brings all the emotion you shared rushing back to overwhelm you. And there is no shame in such glorious love.”

  Robert listened to her incredulously, a tumult of emotions roiling in his gut. He was at once enraged, confused, and admiring. She stopped a foot away from where he stood with Alice, and her scent washed over him, making his body, that most traitorous thing, stir the way it had every time his Lavinia was near. He cleared his throat, and spoke, though his voice was still gruff with feelings he could not express.

  “You are very kind, madam! Good evening!”

  He stepped gratefully into the night, handing Alice into the carriage before getting in himself. Not wishing to frighten his young cousin any more than she already was, he held her hand when she reached for his, and stretched his lips in a rueful smile.

  “I am sor
ry to have ruined your evening, my dear,” he apologized. “I promise I shall find a way to make it up to you. Perhaps a party of your own the next time Edgar is out of town, or you want a holiday.”

  “It is no matter, Robert,” Alice said, squeezing his hand. “I am just worried about you. Will you be all right?”

  Robert’s heart turned over at the concern in his little cousin’s voice. He had had no one since his Lavinia died...she was not dead, he reminded himself, for had he not just seen her at the inn with a man who claimed to be her husband, and whom she seemed to accept as such? He fought against the rising tide of emotions that still threatened to overwhelm him. He did not wish to frighten Alice any more than she already was. As it stood, he knew she would return home to tell her mama of how he had a relapse, and if he were not careful, his Aunt Eunice would arrive with her full entourage to try and coddle him. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was anyone around him at this time.

  “I will be fine, Alice,” he said, straining to keep a sharp edge from his voice. “A good night’s rest will no doubt cure whatever ails me.”

  He tried to inject a lightness into his tone that he was far from feeling, and was relieved when she was silent for the rest of the ride. Back in the manor house, he kissed her cheek goodnight and went into his study where he sat brooding over the past, and plotting his revenge. He would get her back, and then he would punish her for leaving him, for letting him think she was dead, for breaking his heart...and he would kill the man who had dared to steal her from him. All he needed was a plan and an opportunity...