“You look like a happily married man, Crisp. I know I am. I couldn’t have found a better wife than Janie.” Matt looked like a cat in the cream he was so pleased with himself.
Crispin grin grew bigger. He looked at the floor then raised his head and said, “Yes, I am happy, very happy. You were right, Matt. Once I got my head out of my backside, I realized that I’ve loved Cat ever since I’ve known her. I was…just too foolish to admit it. But I’m wise enough now to shout it to the world, if need be.”
“Oh, no! He loves her,” Jules uttered in a sarcastic tone. “There goes the wager.”
“Quiet, Jil, or one of the wives will hear you.” Fox had no desire to listen to Brookton rant about the love matches. “So far, there are two love matches. They were not planned, but that’s the way they worked out. If I find a lady as sweet and nice as your wives, I will consider myself a very lucky man.”
“And do you have someone in mind, Fox?” As he waited for his friend to answer, Crispin was no longer smiling.
After a long pause, during which Fox seemed to be challenging his friend, he replied, “I haven’t asked anyone if that’s what you’re wanting to know.”
The duke wasn’t satisfied with his answer yet didn’t say anymore on the subject. Instead, he pushed a jovial smile onto his face and offered port or brandy. All four men sat and sipped their brandies as they caught up on the news.
The three visiting lords were shocked when they heard of Lord Baskin breaking into the Keep and threatening the duke and duchess. They were more flabbergasted when he told them Catherine had shot him through the heart.
“But why did he go after you and Catherine?” Fox was appalled his friend and his wife had been threatened in such a manner.
Crispin explained about Baskin’s monetary offer for Catherine, and that he had somehow known what Damien had done. Their jaws dropped when he added, “And I suspect he killed Damien and his apothecary friend because Baskin demanded to know what Damien had told Cat and me about the formula.”
Jules just shook his head. “So, it was all about the formula. Three people died for it. What a waste of lives.” Jules couldn’t hide the disgust in his voice, and the other three nodded in agreement.
Matt, though, went to the heart of it. “The formula could have been worth millions of pounds. Just think. An aphrodisiac with little side effects that really worked and was safe to use. Fortune hunters would be willing to pay for something that would allow them to totally compromise their innocent victims, and I hate to think what the reprobates and scoundrels of this world would do with such a thing.” He shook his head. “They were looking at a veritable fortune. A motive worth killing for in the minds of many.”
“The magistrate did find evidence that Baskin killed the apothecary. There were remains of several herbs and some stray paperwork for the purchase of herbs for Cruikshank’s shop. However, none of his formulas were found, including the aphrodisiac. They turned Baskin’s home upside down but found nothing else.” Crispin spread his hands, helplessly. “So, the formula is probably lost for good. And, maybe, that’s for the best. It did work, only too well. I had a headache the next morning, but Cat lost her memory of the whole night, which was definitely for the best. However, I can see how it could have been misused on innocent women…and I hope it’s gone forever.” The bleak look on the duke’s face had all three of his friends in sympathy with him hoping the same.
All were silent for a few minutes, then Jules changed the topic of conversation to everyone’s relief.
***
The day of the ball dawned bright and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky. Excitement for the evening ahead could be felt throughout the entire castle. Even the servants looked to the evening with anticipation as this was the first big event the new Duchess of Weirlane would host.
As for Catherine, she was very nervous.
“Cat, my love, everything is in readiness,” assured Crispin. “You and Mother haven’t forgotten a thing. This will be talked about for months around the area and among the ton. You will receive accolades from near and far on your great beauty as well as your hostess abilities. I’m very proud of you and will not hesitate to let every guest know it also.”
Gently kissing his wife proved to be a delightful diversion, and after making very passionate love to her, they slept the afternoon away until his valet tapped on the door apprising them of the need to ready themselves for the evening. Trays were brought for a light repast, and afterwards they shared a bath that they wished could have been longer. Then each dressed for the evening.
Seeing his duchess in a dark emerald silk gown with a lighter emerald overlay of lace, the neckline of which was fashionable but a little too low—showing too much of her creamy breasts for the duke’s peace of mind—caused Crispin’s breath to hitch. His wife was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was all he could do to fasten an emerald and diamond necklace about her lovely throat as he would have preferred to undress her and make love to her all night. But it couldn’t be with over two hundred guests expected.
Standing behind Catherine, he peered into the mirror and saw the look of dismay on his beloved’s face. “Are you all right, Cat?” he inquired with concern.
When she turned in his arms, he could see her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Everything will be fine. You and my mother have been superb.”
“Thank you. It’s just…I’m nervous about seeing my father again.”
“Don’t be. You are the Duchess of Weirlane. You are my wife, and he will show you the respect due your position, or he will be ejected immediately.” Quickly taking his handkerchief, he touched the corners of her eyes, then kissed her gently. Ignoring his body’s response, he continued to encourage her. “After all, you are the most powerful woman in this entire area. You deserve respect as my wife and duchess. Never forget that. And I will be by your side the entire evening.”
He smiled with pride as he noticed she stood a little taller, took a deep breath, and nodded. Together they headed toward the ballroom and the receiving line.
***
Everything went smoothly until the Earl of Compton and his new wife arrived. The duke and duchess acknowledged their appearance and the introduction to Lady Compton. Then the earl gave a sly look to his daughter and said, “You seem to be doing well for yourself, gel.”
The duke made his six feet three inches of height seemed even taller as he drew himself up and quietly hissed, “You will accord the duchess the respect due my wife or you will leave.”
Lord and Lady Compton both turned white as sheets and the earl stammered out, “My—my apologies, Your Grace,” to his daughter who continued to glare at him without saying a word.
With an arctic look, the duke wished the couple an enjoyable evening and then turned to the next guest in line. He would have been delighted to know he had spoiled the evening for Lord and Lady Compton who were both bundles of nerves for the rest of the night.
***
Lord Foxdown was one of the later guests to go through the receiving line. When he stood before his Anna, he swelled with pride at the vision of loveliness before him. Dressed in an ivory silk gown embroidered with gold thread wearing a pearl necklace with matching earrings, and pearl pins in her hair, she took his breath away. What he wouldn’t give to have the right to kiss those tiny ears. Bowing over her hand, he quietly said, “I look forward to our two dances this evening.”
Although she gave no sign she heard him, the dowager gave a little start at the guest who seemed to be paying more than the usual attention to her second eldest daughter. She was not unaware of how he watched Anna Marie when he thought others would not notice. She crushed a feeling of dismay and smiled at the next guest.
After nearly an hour, they were able to quit the receiving line and attend the ballroom. Most of the guests had responded they would attend, and the ballroom was comfortably full. Looking from above, with the autumn colors and the variety of clothing, the ballroom floor looked
like a field of wildflowers gone mad. The sound of laughter and gay conversation resounded throughout the room.
“Our guests seem to be enjoying themselves, Crispin.” His wife smiled and gave his arm a little squeeze which he returned, and she sighed in contentment.
The duke replied in kind, “Yes, all the preparation you, mother, my sisters, and all the servants have done has ensured this will be the equal of any of the ton gatherings. And, has established your reputation as a hostess to be reckoned with.” Pointing to the ballroom below, he said, “Shall we?” and they descended to speak with their guests and to begin the dancing.
When the musicians noted the duke and duchess’ arrival, they prepared for the quadrille, the opening dance of the ball. The couple took their places and the dance began. It was the first time Crispin had danced with Catherine, and it nearly undid him. In the past, dancing had allowed him to be the seducer of the lady he had selected for the evening. Now, however, he was shocked to realize his wife was now the seductress with a sly smile on her face as they went through the moves. Cursing the tight breeches men at a ball were expected to wear, he found himself thinking of the time he broke through the ice and fell into the frozen pond. It did help, and he was determined not to embarrass himself in front of his guests. Seeing that his wife fought to hold back her laughter, he brought himself under good regulation and mourned the fact the end of the ball was many hours away. Nonetheless, he managed both sets without mishap.
As the dance ended, the musicians began preparing for a waltz. The duke groaned as he had promised the first one to his wife, but the dance would be an ordeal for him. Not because he didn’t love his wife, but because he loved her…too much.
“Madam,” he whispered in her ear, “I believe this dance is also ours. And the next…and the next.
“Your Grace, you cannot claim all my dances, can you?”
“My dear Cat, I claim you for me. And I will dance any dance I wish with my wife.”
Crispin looked up, at that moment, to see Lord Foxdown and Anna Marie float by and scowled. He didn’t like the way Fox looked at his innocent sibling, or the way he held her. Although, Fox was his friend, he was also a rake and not worthy of his sister. He resigned himself to approaching his mother and the two of them watching Fox and Anna Marie for the rest of the evening.
“Crispin, is anything wrong?” his wife inquired.
“No, Cat, everything is fine.” He smiled at her to ease her fears. Recently, she had told him she was with child, and both were ecstatic with joy. He would try to do nothing to spoil the evening for her. With a bow, the duke took her hand, put his arm around her waist, and then spun her out onto the floor holding her just a little closer than propriety allowed even with a waltz.
***
For the most part, the evening went well. Even when supper had been served, Crispin noted that Fox did not sit with Anna Marie, so he breathed a sigh of relief and hoped it would end there.
But it didn’t.
The last dance was also a waltz, and the duke watched as Lord Foxdown took Anna Marie onto the dance floor. He planned to catch his friend after the dance ended and ring a peal over his head, but he got waylaid by Lord Parkinhurst. The earl wanted to buy one of Crispin’s prime blood, a stallion that could make Parkinhurst’s stable one of the best in the area. Listening to the lord and watching for Fox and Anna Marie, he discovered they had disappeared before the dance ended. Where have they gone?
Parkinhurst continued to ply him with questions until he almost told the older man to go home, and they would converse later. But Jocelyn came hurrying up and whispered in his ear, “Crispin, you must come. Lord Foxdown has compromised Anna Marie.”
And the duke saw red.
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading Lord Weirlane, The Four Lords’ Saga Book 2. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
I have found I love these four young men and their ladies. There is nothing better than handsome, reformed bad boys. And these four fit the bill quite nicely.
But the fun is not over. Turn the page for an excerpt from Lord Foxdown, The Four Lords’ Saga Book 3.
And please sign up to my Four Lords Readers List so that I can keep you posted about the release date of Book 3, other books in The Four Lords’ Saga Series (I have many plots in mind), and my other Regency romance writings, and share with you some of my work prior to publication. When you sign up, you’ll get immediate access to Matt and Janie, the Backstory to Lord Windmere.
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Enjoy The Four Lords’ Saga Series!
Excerpt from Lord Foxdown
Historical Romance Short Stories
The Four Lords’ Saga – Book 3
Prologue
Blast it all. Where did she go?
The man stood at the edge of the ballroom and looked out over the crowd. He had spotted his quarry earlier and was now preparing to follow through with his plan. For over a fortnight he had played the games of the haut ton and was now impatient. His creditors were beginning to put pressure on him and were making dire threats, one of which could cause his death, and since that was not an option, tonight he would compromise the young lady, marry her with a special license and settle his debts with her huge dowry. Discarding her after deflowering her would be no problem. And with a drop or two of laudanum in her punch, she should be no problem at all. However, he would need to move quickly as he surmised that Lord Foxdown could be a fly in the ointment as he seemed to have a tendre for the young lady, and that wouldn’t do. He would need to be exceedingly careful this night.
***
Gareth was getting impatient as he had yet to dance with Anna this evening. The supper dance would begin after the current set finished in approximately one quarter hour. He had seen Anna drinking some punch across the room a few minutes earlier and was headed to speak with her when Lord Blackburn stopped him concerning prime cattle he thought Foxdown would be interested in acquiring. Impatiently, Gareth spoke with him for only a minute or two then said he would speak with him on the morrow. After making arrangements to do so, he turned back to find that Anna was no longer where he had last seen her. Quickly scanning the crowded room, he saw a couple exit through a terrace door near where Anna had been standing. Pushing his way through the crush of guests, he finally made it out the door only to find no one in sight. Heedless of the risk of falling, he bounded down the stone steps leading into the gardens. When he stopped to listen, he heard nothing at first. As he continued to listen carefully, he heard the sound of ripping fabric just as Crispin appeared at his side.
“Where is she?”
“I didn’t see where they went, but I heard a sound over there.” Both hurried over to an area partially obscured by bushes and trees. To their horror, they spotted a man with his hand over the mouth of a limp Anna—with her bodice ripped to her waist—and fondling her breasts.
Chapter I
Twelve months earlier
The curricle swayed as its driver, in an unbridled quest for speed, urged his horses onward with his whip. It came close to hitting a vegetable vendor on the side of the street and then barely made it around the corner. The driver continued on heedless of the chaos and cursing he left in the curricle’s wake as he looked for more speed from his matched pair.
***
A satisfied Lord Brookton came out of his bootmaker’s shop after successfully getting measured for three new pairs of boots. They were well worth the wait of a se’nnight before his appointment. The well-known bootmaker was extremely popular, and Jules was fortunate the wait was as short as it was. There had been times when he had waited
more than a fortnight to have his measurements taken.
He paused and was considering lunch at White’s when he heard the sound of a fast moving curricle coming down the street. Across the way, a young miss caught his eye. She had to be woolgathering as she was paying no mind, although traffic was light, as she started across the road. The curricle—with the fool, Lord Farthington, driving it—slowed not one whit and, it was heading directly for the girl.
A portly gentleman cried out in irritation as Brookton shouldered past him and ran into the street. Although the young lady seemed rather tall, he was still able to wrap one arm completely around her waist like a shepherd’s hook and haul her off the street as the curricle clattered by.
Brookton turned her to face him, expecting her gratitude, but what he got instead was a bloodcurdling shriek.
“Unhand me, you lout!” In a flash of motion, she wrapped her shawl around her left fist and hit him with a punch that would have done Gentleman Jim Jackson proud.
“Ow, why did you do that? I may not be the handsomest man in London, but do you have to spoil what looks I have?” Lord Brookton held his jaw and wondered if it was broken. It throbbed horribly as he lay in a puddle—of dubious origins—of which when he breathed in, nearly made him cast up his accounts.
“Wh-what?”
“You stupid chit. I was trying to save your life,” he growled. Swearing violently in language that would make most young ladies swoon, he looked up to see that this young miss had her fists on her hips and murder in her eye.
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