The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2)

by Meara Platt

  “What?” He gaped at her, and then a slow grin crossed his face. He wrapped her and Felicity in his arms. “Say it again,” he said with aching tenderness. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  She cast him a beaming smile. “Felicity’s going to have a new cousin. I love you, Ian. And so will our baby. You’re going to make a wonderful father. Happy Christmas... Papa.”

  THE END

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading The Duke I’m Going To Marry. On the surface, Ian is a handsome, wealthy duke, seemingly without a care in the world. However, having been raised in a cold and loveless family, he was just begging to find happiness. Love is the one thing all his money could never buy, and Ian had resigned himself to a lonely existence until Dillie came into his life. Their first kiss changed everything for him, but moving beyond his cruel upbringing and forgiving himself for his supposed past sins was not easy to do. It took Dillie’s courage and her faith in him to bring them to their happy ending.

  Book 3 in the Farthingale Series is Rules For Reforming A Rake, which is actually the prequel to My Fair Lily and The Duke I’m Going To Marry. It is Daisy Farthingale’s story. Daisy is the middle daughter, who has taken on the role of conciliator among the boisterous family. To protect one of her sisters, Daisy took blame for an unfortunate incident involving a gentleman of dubious reputation. Although innocent, she enters her debut season with a slight tarnish. Her beloved Farthingale family no longer trusts her or respects her judgment. Daisy is determined to make the family proud of her again, and decides to do it by marrying the most respectable man she can find. Unfortunately, her heart refuses to cooperate and she falls in love with worst man possible—Gabriel Dayne, a dissolute rakehell who may be spying for the French! Read on for a sneak peek at Daisy’s story, the third in the Farthingale Series.

  With love,

  Meara

  SNEAK PEEK OF THE UPCOMING BOOK

  RULES FOR REFORMING A RAKE

  BY MEARA PLATT

  CHAPTER 1

  To attract a rake, one must first make an elegant impression.

  London, England

  Late February 1815

  “GABRIEL, DON’T WALK down that street!”

  Gabriel Dayne turned in time to see his friend, Ian Markham, Duke of Edgeware, jump down from an emerald green phaeton and dodge several passing carriages as he raced toward him, waving his arms and calling for him to stop. Quickly scanning his surroundings, Gabriel reached for the pistol hidden in the breast pocket of his waistcoat and prepared to defend himself.

  But from whom?

  He saw nothing untoward on Chipping Way, one of Mayfair’s prettiest streets. Indeed, the sun shone brightly, birds chirped merrily, and buds hinted of early spring blooms along the fashionable walk. Ladies and gentlemen strolled leisurely toward the park, and another elegant carriage led by a pair of matched grays with fanciful gold feathers on their heads clattered past.

  Not a footpad or assassin could be seen.

  “Put that weapon away,” Ian said, reaching his side and pausing a moment to catch his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, just stop you from making one of the biggest mistakes of your life.”

  Gabriel frowned. “A simple ‘good afternoon’ would have caught my attention. How are you, Your Grace?”

  “Me? I’m right as rain. But things have changed around here. I thought you should know.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket, removed his top hat, and proceeded to wipe his brow.

  Gabriel gazed more closely at Ian’s handkerchief... decidedly feminine... embroidered with pink hearts. He arched an eyebrow. “So it seems. You never mentioned that you’d acquired a wife.”

  Ian followed Gabriel’s gaze. “The devil! Things haven’t changed that much! I’m not married and hope never to be. No, this dainty piece of lace belongs to my new mistress. A shapely bit of fluff with cherry lips and hair to match.”

  “I see.”

  “Ah, but I don’t think you do. I stopped by your townhouse shortly after your return from France to congratulate the wounded war hero, but you were in very bad shape—”

  “Don’t call me that,” Gabriel warned, keeping his voice low, though they were quite alone for the moment. “As far as my family and London society are concerned, I’m the wastrel they believe I’ve become, shot by a jealous husband while hunting grouse in Scotland.”

  Ian shook his head. “I don’t see the need to continue this pretense. The war’s over. Why won’t you and Prinny,” he said, referring to the Prince Regent, “allow the truth to come out?”

  “No,” Gabriel said quietly. “It will come out in time, when Napoleon is no longer a threat.”

  “But he’s in exile and under constant guard. What harm can he do now?”

  “None, I hope. However, matters are still unsettled on the Continent. I may have to return.” Though he was loath to do so. Having spent the last three years slipping from one hellish battlefield to another, and been close to death more times than he cared to remember, Gabriel was now eager to take advantage of this momentary lull to live life to the fullest.

  Ian and he had saved each other from numerous scrapes with the enemy during the war and had become more than friends. One could say they were as close as brothers, though Ian did not care much for family. Indeed, he was an unrepentant rakehell with an excellent eye for the ladies, and just the person to guide him back into the carefree bachelor life. “Now tell me, does your delightful mistress have a friend?”

  Ian laughed. “Veronique has several charming friends to suit your... er, needs. Come by White’s tonight for a drink. We’ll discuss your return to England and the joys of bachelorhood further.”

  “Look forward to it,” Gabriel said with a nod. “Now, what is this nonsense about my making one of the biggest mistakes of my life?”

  Ian tried to appear serious, but the corners of his mouth curled upward to form a grin. “The danger is real,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You must not take another step toward your grandmother’s house.”

  Gabriel humored him by glancing around once more. For the life of him, there was nothing out of place on this street.

  Ian took a deep breath. “Right, then. Your grandmother resides at Number 5 Chipping Way, and General Allworthy resides at Number 1 Chipping Way. He’s no problem, of course, being the quiet, retiring sort. So is your grandmother the retiring sort, though I understand she was quite something in her younger day.”

  “Get to the point. I’m already late.”

  “Yes, well. The problem resides at Number 3 Chipping Way. The Farthingales moved in about three years ago, shortly after you went off to... well, you know. Ever since they took up residence here, this charming street has become a deathtrap for bachelors.”

  Gabriel frowned. “Ian—”

  “Oh, I know it must sound absurd to you, but let me explain. The Farthingales have five beautiful daughters, and I don’t mean just pretty. They’re stunning and of marriageable age, which is a problem for us simple creatures.”

  “Simple creatures?”

  “We bachelors, haven’t you been listening? What chance do we have against a pair of vivid blue eyes? Soft, smiling lips? None, I tell you. Our brains shut off the moment our—”

  “I understand your drift,” Gabriel shot back, rolling his eyes. “But years of battle discipline have trained me well. I have an iron control over my body and therefore am in no danger from the Farthingale girls. They are mere females, after all.”

  Ian shook his head sadly and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Julian Emory said similar words to me two years ago while on his way to visit your dear grandmother. He made it as far as the Farthingale gate, heard Rose Farthingale’s kiln explode and then heard her cries for help. She was trapped inside, along with her shattered pottery.”

  “A riveting story,” Gabriel said dryly.

  “Julian heroically dug her out of the rubble, lifted her into his arms, and as he car
ried her from the destruction, disaster struck. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. They were married before he knew what hit him. I doubt the besotted fool will ever recover.”

  “I’m not Julian.”

  “Curiously, your cousin, Graelem Dayne, said those exact words to me last year. We stood right here as I tried to stop him from visiting your grandmother. I failed, of course. He made it to the Farthingale gate, only to be trampled by Laurel Farthingale’s beast of a horse. The beast broke Graelem’s leg, but did your cousin care? No, because Laurel had jumped down from that four-legged devil, thrown her arms around Graelem, and cradled him in her lap while some medical relative of hers set his busted leg. Laurel and Graelem married a short time after that.”

  “Thank you for the warning.” Gabriel started for his grandmother’s house.

  “Daisy,” Ian called after him.

  “What?”

  “Daisy’s next. She’s the next eldest of the Farthingale girls. You know, first Rose, then Laurel, then—”

  “Of course, Daisy Farthingale.” Her name sounded as foolish as his friend’s warning.

  ***

  Gabriel strode past General Allworthy’s townhouse at Number 1 Chipping Way, and then paused to look back at his companion because he had heard him mutter something about it being too painful to watch. Ian, along with his emerald green phaeton, was gone.

  “Stuff and nonsense,” Gabriel grumbled, dismissing his friend as an alarmist. Julian and Graelem had been ready to marry. It only took the right sort of girl to tame them. He, on the other hand, had every intention of remaining the unrepentant bachelor.

  Indeed, marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. Bad women and good times were what he wanted.

  He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched straight past Number 3... well, almost.

  “You, sir! Please! Stop that baby!”

  “Wha-at?” Gabriel turned in time to see a little boy toddle at full speed from the Farthingale drive onto Chipping Way. The infant was stark naked and headed directly toward a carriage that was traveling much too fast for this elegant neighborhood.

  “There, sir! Please stop him!” a young woman cried, leaning precariously from one of the upper windows.

  Gabriel tore after the little fellow, snatching him into his arms just as the little imp was about to fall under the hooves of the fast-moving team of horses. The boy squirmed in his arms, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him go. “Let’s get you back to your derelict governess, young man,” he said, wrapping the unclad child in the folds of his cloak, for there was a chill to the air.

  But the boy, having no enthusiasm for the idea, began to shriek. “No! No!”

  Lord! Where was that governess?

  Gabriel drew the inconsolable child against his chest, speaking to him quietly but sternly in an even tone until his shrieks subsided. As they did, Gabriel patted his small back and soothed his anguished sobs. “There, there,” he said, quite at a loss. “No need to fuss.”

  His actions worked to some extent, for the boy did suddenly stop wailing. “Papa... Papa...” he repeated softly, resting his head against Gabriel’s shirt as he emitted trembling gasps of air from his little lungs.

  “I certainly hope not,” Gabriel muttered, brushing the tightly coiled gold curls off the boy’s moist brow. “Ah, there’s a good lad. Feeling better now?”

  The boy responded with a tiny nod.

  Quite pleased with himself and the efficiency with which he’d restored order, Gabriel turned back to the Farthingale house as the young woman burst through the gate, followed by a small army of children in varying states of disarray. She paused but a moment to order her squealing troops, “Back inside!” and to Gabriel’s surprise, they promptly complied.

  The young woman then turned toward him, her black hair half done up in a bun and the rest of it falling in a shambles about her slender shoulders. “Thank you! Thank you! You saved Harry’s life! We’re so grateful.”

  He frowned down at the seemingly appreciative girl. She was young and slight, barely reaching his shoulders. She took no notice of his displeasure, and instead smiled up at him, her eyes glistening as if holding back unshed tears.

  Still smiling, she turned to the boy. “You gave me a terrible scare, you little muffin. I’m so glad you’re unharmed.”

  Gabriel thought to chide her, but the girl chose that moment to smile at him again, and the words simply refused to flow from his mouth. Well, she did have an incredible smile. The sort that touched one’s heart—if one had a heart—which he didn’t, having lost it sometime during the war.

  Her eyes were bluer than the sky.

  His frown faded.

  She shook her head and let out the softest sigh. “You’re so wonderful with him. Do you have children of your own?”

  “You ought to be more careful with your young charge,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat and speaking to her with purposeful severity. The girl’s attributes, no matter how heavenly, did not excuse her lapse in duty.

  “Oh, Harry’s not my charge... well, he is in a way. You see, he’s my cousin. And the nannies have all quit our household, so I’m left all alone with the seven children until my family returns.” She wiped a stray lock off her brow and then put her arms forward to show him her rolled-up sleeves. “I was trying to bathe the littlest ones.”

  He noticed that her finely made gown was wet in several spots. “It seems they bathed you.”

  “What? Oh, yes. They did give me a thorough soaking.” She laughed gently while shaking her head in obvious exasperation. “Harry was the last, but now I’ll have to bathe him all over again.”

  “Don’t let me delay you.” He attempted to hand the squirming bundle back to her, but before he could manage it, Harry decided to leave him a remembrance.

  What was the expression? No good deed ever goes unpunished? Gabriel watched in horror as an arc of liquid shot from the naked imp onto his shirt front, planting a disgustingly warm, yellow stain on the once immaculate white lawn fabric.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or rage. He’d been undone. Brought to his knees by an infant and an incompetent guardian.

  “Oh, dear,” the girl said, closing her eyes and groaning. “I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

  So was he. He ought to have listened to Ian, but not because the Farthingale women were dangerous. It seemed all Farthingales were dangerous. Young. Old. Male. Female.

  The family and their servants were to be avoided at all costs.

  “We’ll pay for the damage, of course,” she continued in obvious distress, her eyes remaining firmly closed, as if not seeing the damage would somehow make it go away. “We’ll replace whatever needs... er, replacing. Please have your tailor send the bill to Miss Daisy Farthingale. I’ll make certain it is paid at once.”

  Gabriel’s heart stopped beating. Yes, it definitely stopped. And then it began to beat very fast.

  “You’re Daisy?” he mumbled, his tongue suddenly as numb as the rest of his body. Not that he cared who she was, or what Ian had warned. He wasn’t afraid of any female, certainly not this incompetent slip of a girl.

  She opened her eyes and graced him with a gentle, doe-eyed gaze. “I am.”

  Very well, Ian was right. She was a force to be reckoned with, but so would any woman be with glistening blue eyes, pink cheeks, and cream-silk skin.

  “Sir, may I be so bold as to ask who you are?”

  “I’m late, that’s what I am.” He plunked Harry in her arms and hastened to his grandmother’s house.

  END

  Daisy loves her family and desperately wants to make them proud of her by marrying well; however, her heart refuses to cooperate and keeps leading her to Gabriel Dayne, a man she believes is a wastrel and notorious rake. Gabriel has spent years creating his dissolute image in order to spy on Napoleon’s agents, and he isn’t about to destroy all those years of important work for a snip of a girl who’s somehow stolen his heart. We know that Daisy will fi
nd true love only by following her heart and believing in Gabriel. However, in Regency England, a young woman had little chance to succeed on her own merits. Often, the only way to gain the respect of her family was to achieve a brilliant marriage. Daisy will be forced to make that choice, for the handsome heir to one of England’s most powerful families has offered for her hand in marriage and Daisy is feeling tremendous pressure to accept.

  Interested in learning more about the Farthingale sisters? Join me on Facebook! Additionally, we’ll be giving away lots of Farthingale swag and prizes during the launches. If you would like to join the fun, you can subscribe to my newsletter and also connect with me on Twitter. You can find links to do all of this at my website: mearaplatt.com.

  If you enjoyed this book, I would really appreciate it if you could post a review on the site where you purchased it. Also feel free to write one on Goodreads or other reader sites that you peruse. Even a few sentences on what you thought about the book would be most helpful! If you do leave a review, send me a message on Facebook because I would love to thank you personally. Please also consider telling your friends about the FARTHINGALE series and recommending it to your book clubs.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MEARA PLATT is married to her Russell Crowe look-alike husband, and they have two terrific children. She lives on Long Island, New York, and loves it except for the traffic. She has traveled the world, occasionally lectures, and always finds time to write. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her Romance Writers of America Golden Heart–winning story to be released as Book 3 in her paranormal romance Garden series, which is set to debut in 2015. Learn more about Meara Platt by visiting her website at mearaplatt.com.

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  MEARA PLATT