The Duke of Ruin
Page 1
The Duke of Ruin
Darcy Burke
Contents
The Duke of Ruin
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Thank You!
Books by Darcy Burke
About the Author
The Duke of Ruin
With her betrothal to a duke in tatters and scandal imminent, Diana Kingman has two choices: live in certain ignominy or flee into obscurity. Diana wants solitude. She never wished to wed in the first place. However, her father will stop at nothing to betroth her to one of the finest titles in the realm...no matter how loathsome the bearer. Escape is Diana’s only option, and she’ll pay any price to achieve freedom.
Universally blamed for the death of his wife and unborn child, Simon Hastings doesn’t dispute his guilt over an accident he cannot even remember. He hasn’t had a drink since, nor a moment’s peace. Determined to be a better man, Simon rescues a young woman in need—only to be accused of kidnapping. They must marry to save him from prison. But how can a man haunted by the love he lost and a woman afraid to get too close find happiness together?
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The Duke of Ruin
Copyright © 2018 Darcy Burke
All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 194457624X
ISBN-13: 9781944576240
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Book design: © Darcy Burke.
Book Cover Design © Carrie Divine/Seductive Designs
Photo copyright: © Period Images
Photo copyright: © BackgroundStor/Depositphotos
Photo copyright: © romankosolapov/Depositphotos
Editing: Linda Ingmanson.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
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Chapter 1
December 1817
He really hoped he wouldn’t have to kidnap her.
Simon Hastings, twelfth Duke of Romsey, rode his horse along Curzon Street until he found the house in which Miss Diana Kingman resided. Spotting it, he rode past—he had no intention of calling—and formulated a plan. With many, many contingencies, one of which would be kidnaping, but he dearly prayed it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t know Miss Kingman well, but from what he did know, she possessed a sound mind and more reason than most women her age.
Her lips were also incredibly soft.
He ought not know that, of course, but as a result of some silly games they’d played at a house party several weeks before, he was well acquainted with her mouth and the way she smelled—like honeysuckle buzzing with bees eager to taste its sweetness.
Was he a bee?
Simon shook his head. He couldn’t be a bee to Miss Kingman’s flower. Or anyone else with a “miss” in front of her name. Hell, he’d be lucky to find a woman who could bear to look at him without flinching. And if he did, he might just have to marry her on the spot.
He nearly laughed at the thought. It was more than likely he wouldn’t marry again, not after the tragedy of his first union.
Shaking the maudlin thoughts away, as he did every day, he focused on his plan as it came together in his mind. He made his way back to his town house in Berkeley Square and scratched off a missive, which was immediately delivered to Miss Kingman. Then he went back out and walked to Green Park to wait.
The day was gray and cold, and Simon was quite chilled by the time Miss Kingman strolled into the park nearly an hour later, a maid trailing her by several paces. She paused, scanning the area and moving right past him. She continued onto the path, her head moving as she looked for Nick—that is, the Duke of Kilve and Simon’s closest friend. And also Miss Kingman’s fiancé. Or former fiancé.
Simon stood from the bench on which he’d been lounging and made his way toward her. As he neared, recognition flickered across her face, and she stopped.
She offered a curtsey. “Your Grace.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Kingman. How lovely to see you here. Might we ask your maid to sit on the bench while we take a turn?” He didn’t want the retainer overhearing anything he said.
Miss Kingman was a lovely young woman, with an emphasis on the word young. She couldn’t be much past twenty. Petite of stature, she possessed dark, nearly black hair and vivid blue eyes. “I’m supposed to meet His Grace, the Duke of Kilve.”
His note had invited her to meet Nick. “I know. He asked me to come in his stead.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he all right?”
Damn. She cared for him. This was going to be painful. “He’s, ah, fine. Shall we walk?”
She turned and walked to her maid. After speaking with her for a moment, the retainer went to the bench, where she perched on the edge. Miss Kingman returned to Simon’s side.
He offered her his arm, and she stared at it a moment before taking it. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“I wasn’t reluctant to take your arm,” she said coolly. “I’m merely trying to puzzle why you’re here and not Kilve. Furthermore, I’m trying to determine why Kilve wanted to meet me here.”
“It’s a rather delicate matter.” Simon walked with her along the path and tried to choose his words carefully. “You recall Lady Pendleton? From the house party.”
That was where Simon had met Miss Kingman. And Lady Pendleton.
“Of course. Is something amiss with her?”
“There was—she had an accident—but she’s all right now, I believe. That isn’t the issue, however.” He grimaced. “There just isn’t a good way to say this, I’m afraid. Nick and Violet—Lady Pendleton—were acquainted in the past. Well acquainted.” He gave Miss Kingman a pointed look. “They were in love.”
Miss Kingman slowed but didn’t stop. “I see.”
“They are still in love. It’s quite a romantic tale. Er, except for the part where Nick can’t marry you.”
She was quiet a moment, but Simon felt the tension in her as her hand briefly tightened around his arm. “If he’s in love with her, why did he agree to marry me?”
“That is, ah, where
things grow complicated. We men sometimes behave poorly when love is involved. I know it makes no sense, but because he was overwhelmed with love for Violet, he felt as though he had to leave her. He was afraid. And foolish.”
“And I’m going to pay the price for that, apparently,” she said with considerable aversion. “He sent you to tell me this?”
“No. I offered to take care of the matter. Because of Lady Pendleton’s accident, it’s vital that he travel to Bath at the earliest possibility. I suspect he’s already on his way out of London.” Simon hoped so, anyway.
Her silence was longer this time, but Simon didn’t feel any tension. He peered down at her, a bit alarmed at her reaction. But what had he expected? A dramatic outburst? A fainting spell? He hadn’t brought any hartshorn.
“How could he do this?” she whispered. She turned her head, and her gaze pitched down.
Oh dear. Was her heart broken? He’d had the impression from Nick that this was to be a marriage of convenience. But maybe she’d just told him that to get him to agree.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, feeling rather inadequate. “Nick is an ass. He never should have contracted to marry you.”
“No, he shouldn’t have.” She still didn’t look at him.
Simon sought to soothe her, if he could. “Miss Kingman, this needn’t be the end of the world.”
Now, her gaze snapped to his. “Of course not, but it’s quite a disaster. My family will be a laughingstock. My father will be furious.”
Simon couldn’t argue with either of those things. “You’re likely right. But, if you cry off, it will be much better, don’t you agree?”
She was silent a moment, her blue gaze boring into his. “Better than being abandoned? I suppose so, but isn’t that rather like comparing breaking one’s arm to breaking one’s leg? They’re both highly undesirable.”
Damn, this was worse than hysterics. How could he combat logic?
With logic, he supposed.
He edged closer to her, keeping his voice soft. “Nick is incontrovertibly in love with Violet, and she is with him. There can be no marriage between you and him.”
She looked away again, her lips clamping together. She stared toward the reservoir for a long moment before saying, “I wouldn’t want to come between two people who love each other. However, my father will not agree with this sentiment. The banns have been read. He will cause a problem for their wedding.” She turned her head toward Simon. “I assume they plan to wed.”
“I’m sure they do.” Simon and Nick hadn’t discussed that, but since he and Violet had been pining for each other for nigh on a decade, Simon couldn’t imagine another outcome. He only hoped he’d be there to witness it. “This is why I invited you here today—not Nick, me. I insisted he leave to care for Violet and promised to help you mitigate a potential social disaster. The best I can see is you need to cry off. That’s the only way to keep the scandalmongers somewhat at bay and to satisfy your father.”
She finally stopped and turned toward him, withdrawing her arm. Her eyes were wide beneath the brim of her exceedingly fashionable hat, and she stared at him a moment before a laugh exploded from her soft, pink lips. “If you think that will satisfy my father, you’re mad.”
While Simon hadn’t known what to expect, this hadn’t been anywhere in his imagination. “Tell him you’ve changed your mind, that you no longer wish to marry Nick. Surely he’ll understand.”
“You don’t understand. My wishes don’t signify. They never have. Unless you’re prepared to cart me off against my will, my father will ensure this marriage happens as planned.”
Hell and damnation.
“Carting you off is certainly an option,” he said drily. “Or I could escort you somewhere while your father calms down and comes to terms with things.”
“Unlikely,” she muttered darkly, averting her gaze once more.
“Do you have any other ideas? I will fully support anything you want to do.”
She gave him an arch look. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I am at your disposal. I will take you anywhere you wish, and I will cover any expense.”
This seemed to have an impact. Her eyes widened briefly, and her lips parted. She really was a beautiful young woman, despite the tiny lines of stress that marred the space between her eyes most of the time. Right now, however, they were gone, and he glimpsed what she might look like if she didn’t have the weight of expectation on her.
For that was what it was, Simon decided. It was clear her father expected her to marry well, which she’d been on the verge of accomplishing. Simon would do whatever necessary to ensure she didn’t bear the brunt of her father’s rage. “Perhaps we should tell your father that Nick has broken the engagement, and then the public story can be that you cried off. Would that satisfy him?”
“I told you—nothing will satisfy him that doesn’t involve me becoming a duchess.”
“You could marry me, I suppose. I’m a duke.” As if she didn’t know.
“My father doesn’t want me to marry you. Believe me, my mother suggested you at the house party—you were far more affable than Kilve. He really is the Duke of Ice.”
“Try not to judge him too harshly,” Simon said. “He’s suffered a great many losses to become that giant block of ice. Violet is thawing him, however.” And Simon couldn’t be happier. As much as he hated how this situation affected Miss Kingman, he would do whatever necessary to ensure Nick found happiness. They’d been friends far too long, had suffered together through far too much. And dammit, one of them ought to be happy.
“Wonderful. While he gets his heart’s desire, I get to decide how to survive a scandal—privately or publicly.”
“You’d want this to be public?”
She speared him with a stark stare. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’d be quite happy leaving London altogether. I’d be delighted to teach at a school for young ladies. Or work at an orphanage to help abandoned children. Hell, I-I’d even move to the country to tend sheep.”
Her casual use of a curse surprised and amused him. There seemed to be much more to Miss Kingman than met the eye.
“Then why don’t we make one of those things happen? I said I would take you anywhere you wish.” An outlandish idea struck him. “I know—we’ll change your name and set you up somewhere else in whatever capacity you like. You could be a widow in a cottage outside Bath.” He winced, recalling that Violet lived in Bath and that was where Nick was currently headed. “No, not Bath. How about York? Or you could go to Wales or even Scotland.”
“You’re going to pay for my cottage? That wouldn’t cause a scandal.” She rolled her eyes.
Simon grinned, glad that she was finding a bit of humor. “No one would know. My name wouldn’t be involved.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “Why do you want to help me?”
He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again. Why did he want to help her? Because he was helping Nick. Only it was more than that. He was offering her his protection—in as non-scandalous a way as possible—as well as his support. And he did want to ensure she wasn’t ruined. He nearly laughed aloud. The Duke of Ruin sought to protect a young woman from ruin. This had to be the single most ironic moment of his existence.
“I always try to help people,” he said. “They seldom allow me to do so, but I always try.”
“Because of…” She didn’t say it, but they both knew the words she’d left unspoken.
Because he’d killed his wife. Generally, he was anathema. And that didn’t leave much room for altruism. Was she going to shun him like most other people did? She’d been pleasant at the house party, but then all the younger set had, particularly that afternoon when they’d joined together in the ballroom to play games. When he’d kissed her. Did she think of that as often as he did?
Probably not. It entered his mind far too frequently, but he supposed that was bound to happen given how long it had been
since he’d kissed someone. In fact, if he thought about it too much, he grew uncomfortable. He hadn’t ever planned on kissing anyone else, let alone enjoying it.
“Will you let me help you?”
She looked up at him. “I don’t think I have any other choice.”
It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but this wasn’t about him. He was just relieved that she would let him. “Good. Where are we going?”
She turned from him and started to walk. Quickly. He hurried to catch up. “I need to think,” she said without slowing.
Simon kept up with her, and they strode along the path in silence. He glanced back at her maid, whose head was turned watching them.
“We should probably turn back,” he said. “Will your maid tell anyone whom you met?”
Miss Kingman stopped abruptly and spun to face him. “B-blast it all!” She continued turning and started back along the path, her already rapid pace increasing.
“Tell her I’m a friend’s brother.”
“Which friend?”
He shrugged. “Any friend.”
She made a soft sound of disgust. “You didn’t think this through very well.”
“Pardon me for not planning every detail. Rest assured that your escape will be expertly plotted. I just need to know where you want to go.”
“I’m still thinking.”
“We need to leave tonight, Miss Kingman. Nick is already gone. It’s only a matter of time—and not much of it—before the betrothal must be broken.”
She stopped again and faced him. “Forgive me for not being able to decide my entire future in the span of a few minutes.” The fire in her eyes diminished a bit. “I’m not sure what to do. The temptation to leave is great, but it means an end to the life I currently lead.”