Sins of an Intoxicating Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Violet Hamers

  He looked over her shoulder, at the embroidery that she was working on. “Your initials?” he asked.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she replied, holding the embroidery hoop up, so he could see her handiwork.

  “It’s very nice, My Lady.” He stood there and was quiet. She wondered if he had something that he wanted to say. She waited patiently.

  “Would you care to have a seat, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He strode to the settee across from her, then sat. He picked up the paper from the coffee table and then began to look at it. Leah continued her work. She smiled to herself. This was nice—how they would spend thousands of nights of their lives.

  Jasper sat, looking at the paper, meanwhile, in a state of horror. Now, there were handkerchiefs to go along with the marriage that he had no plans of going through with. So much would need to be changed, left unfinished or finished, but never used. He needed to put a stop to it.

  “Your Grace, I was thinking of improvements to make to the parlor at Gillingham Manor,” Lady Leah said.

  “Improvements?” he asked, surprised. Following his father’s death, he’d allowed his mother to make small changes in that parlor. They were all still very recent—a new wallpaper, and a carpet.

  “The Dowager Duchess said that I could fit it up for my own use,” Lady Leah went on in earnest. “It will be where I will entertain guests.”

  “What were you thinking?” he asked, expecting her to say that she wanted new curtains or wallpaper.

  “I…I was looking at Lady Morton’s parlor at Tilney Wood,” she said. “She has a beautiful little stained-glass window.”

  “You want a new window?” he asked, incredibly surprised. “That’s quite an expense.”

  “I’m sure we can afford it, Your Grace.” She was right—they could. But it would require a large amount of effort.

  “Has my mother said so?” he asked.

  “She agreed that it would make the light in there absolutely splendid,” Lady Leah said, smiling proudly at him. “And then, we could get in a new carpet and curtains to match the colors in the window.”

  Jasper felt, for a very long moment, that he had missed something big. He didn’t know what to say. As his future wife, she was right—it was up to her to plan décor. However, Jasper hadn’t been planning to go through with the wedding for almost an entire week.

  “Do think about it,” Lady Leah said, turning her eyes back to the embroidery hoop in her hands.

  Jasper swallowed nervously. Time marched on, and everyone else was making plans for the wedding. He needed to act soon.

  The door opened. Jasper glanced up in time to see Lady Selina enter.

  “Oh, Your Grace,” Selina said, slowing. She curtsied. Her aunt and uncle followed after her. He was there because of her—he was worried that she would be caught, alone and unarmed, on the road.

  “I heard that you were seeing the new foal, My Lady,” Jasper replied, setting the paper aside.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Selina replied, turning toward her aunt and uncle, who were both beaming. “Narcissus is a dear little thing. He’ll be very big soon.”

  “Quite right, my dear,” Uncle Latimer agreed proudly. He frowned at Jasper, curiously. “Your Grace! To what do we owe the honor?”

  “I was just come to tell you about some news that I’ve recently heard,” Jasper said. “I was hoping that you’d have some time to discuss it.”

  “Absolutely, Your Grace,” Lord Kirby said, nodding as he gestured toward the door. “Come, we’ll speak in my study.”

  Jasper glanced at Lady Selina as he left the room. She had walked over to the seat by the window and was just then settling in and opening her book.

  The two gentlemen walked down the hall, where Lord Kirby’s study was located. It was a dim room—a bit on the gloomy side. Jasper remembered the day that he’d arrived there—to ask for Lady Leah’s hand in marriage. What an enormous mess he was in because of it.

  “Lord Quimby’s daughter, Lady Laura, was stopped by the brigands,” he said, settling into a chair. “While she was out walking.”

  “Is she all right?” Lord Kirby asked.

  “Yes. They took her necklace, and they held a knife to her maid’s throat, but they were allowed to return home, alive and well.”

  Lord Kirby looked horrified. He stood behind his chair, his hands gripping it as he digested the information. “I—I hardly know what to say.”

  “I’m sure you understand why I want your house to be a safe haven,” Jasper said.

  “I do,” Lord Kirby said, smiling at him. “Never fear, Your Grace. All of my carriages have gone out with at least one of my grooms or manservants, carrying a pistol.”

  “Very good, My Lord,” he said. “I do want to warn you—the other day, Lady Selina was out on the road, walking. Accompanied by only her maid.”

  Lord Kirby sighed. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Your Grace. I had no idea that she’d gone out.”

  “She seemed utterly unrepentant,” he pointed out.

  “Seems like her, Your Grace.” Lord Kirby smiled.

  “She shouldn’t be out like that,” he said. “It’s clearly not safe.”

  “I quite agree, Your Grace,” Lord Kirby replied, smiling. “She’s so like her mother. Both of them are free spirits, who wander the earth like fairies.”

  He smiled. That was an accurate descriptor of Lady Selina. “Well,” he said, relieved that Lord Kirby had everything well in hand. “I should be getting off.”

  “Is that all, Your Grace?” Lord Kirby asked him, frowning a little.

  Jasper stared back at him. He had no idea as to what else he could possibly need to discuss. “That’s all, My Lord.”

  It seemed like Lord Kirby wanted to ask him something, but was thinking better of it. Lord Kirby opened his mouth, frowned even deeper than he was. But then, he closed his mouth, nodding.

  “Very good, Your Grace,” he said. “I will speak to Lady Selina myself.”

  Selina sat with her book open on her lap. She peered out of the window beside her, surprised to find that the Duke was in the drive, getting up and onto his horse’s back.

  Uncle Latimer entered the room, not long after. He looked as though he’d aged in the time that he’d been gone. In her heart, Selina knew that the Duke had brought bad news.

  “Papa?” Leah asked. “Where is the Duke?”

  “He’s headed off, sweetling,” he said. “He’d just come to deliver some dark news.”

  “Without saying goodbye?” Leah demanded, looking put out.

  “What news, Uncle?” Selina asked at the same time.

  “He had some urgent business to attend to,” he said. “Evidently, Lord Quimby’s daughter was stopped by those brigands. She was out alone, with her maid.”

  Selina herself froze. She knew, suddenly, what the Duke’s urgent errand with her Uncle had been.

  Aunt Georgiana and Leah began talking about the brigands. Meanwhile, Selina stared at the carpet in front of her. It was a cream color, with a blue border. Her pulse raced a little at the thought that it might have been her—had she been out late in the afternoon.

  Uncle Latimer came to the window, looking out at the Duke as he rode off. “He says,” Uncle Latimer said in a low voice, which couldn’t be overheard on the other side of the room. “That you were out walking.”

  “Yes,” Selina replied. “I was with my lady’s maid. I never left the estate.”

  “I trust that you understand why you are not to do that anymore,” Uncle Latimer said.

  Selina looked up at him. “Indeed, Uncle.”

  “He was very concerned for your safety,” Uncle Latimer replied. “He’s right, too. You shouldn’t be out alone. Not when there are bad men afoot.”

  Selina nodded. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I won’t leave Kirby Hall unless I’m accompanied by someone who can protect me.”

  “Thank you, Selina.” He patted her on the shoulder, then turned awa
y. Selina turned her eyes to her book. She was fuming a little. The Duke expected to be obeyed. He was not about to order her around, especially while he was still planning to marry Leah.

  He went behind her back and then had her Uncle approach her! It was underhanded, sneaky.

  She resolved to send the letter, which sat in the writing table. It would be best for all parties, if she were far away when he ended the engagement. Or, if he went through with the wedding. There was no way she could stay.

  Jasper rode with his mother and brother in the barouche-landau, pulled by their pair of Windsor Greys. He watched as the countryside passed by the window. The clop of the horses’ hooves was loud on the road.

  Reuben and his mother were talking animatedly. Jasper listened half-heartedly. His mind was on Lady Selina.

  “Do you think he’ll show us the automaton?” Reuben asked.

  “For certain,” the Dowager Duchess replied. “Lady Selina will never have seen it!”

  They were talking of the Sandbourne Estate’s most interesting treasure. A clockwork swan, which swam in a river of glass, while clockwork fish jumped in the stream. Stephen’s father had acquired it from a jeweler.

  Sandbourne Hall was a large grey stone mansion, set in the very center of fields, filled with the Ayrshire cows that Stephen bred. Ayrshire cows were cream colored with bright red splotches. They grazed out in the fields around Sandbourne. It was a bucolic scene—one which was as familiar to Jasper as his own home.

  The barouche-landau stopped in front. Jasper stepped out, holding out his hand to help his mother down. She took his hand in her own, which was bird thin.

  Stephen’s butler greeted them at the door, leading them through the entryway. The walls were papered in maroon, and there were gold accents. It was smaller than most of the other mansions in this part of the county. It was cozier—less drafty.

  “This way, Your Grace,” the butler said, leading them into Sandbourne’s parlor, where he was surprised to see Lord and Lady Langley, and their eldest daughter, Lady Ella, as well as Lord and Lady Kirby, with Lady Leah and Lady Selina.

  Jasper’s eyes went directly to her like she was the North Star, and he was hopelessly lost in a dark wood. He noticed how her eyes dropped to the floor. She smiled demurely. But he couldn’t read her thoughts like he’d been able to the other day, while they’d sat out on the grassy hill overlooking Kirby Hall.

  She was wearing a grey silk dress, which brought out the golden tone of her hair. Around her neck, she wore a string of pearls. She looked delicate, elegant.

  How he wished that it was just them, with only Faith at the most, reading her book a short distance away. He would beg her to tell him everything—what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He wanted to go to her and to ask her why she looked away from him, but then Stephen had walked over to him.

  “Welcome! Welcome!” he said beaming.

  “My good Lord Sandbourne,” Jasper replied. The two friends shook hands.

  “Thank you for having us, my dear Lord Sandbourne,” his mother said.

  “Thank you, Stephen,” he said quickly. He smiled at his good friend, who was beaming from ear-to-ear.

  “Come in, come in,” Stephen said, ushering them in among the other guests. “Now, everyone is here.”

  Jasper noted the way that Lady Ella glanced at his friend. She was willowy, with dark eyes and dark hair. Stephen clearly had eyes only for Lady Selina.

  It was a shame. Stephen and Lady Ella would have been perfect for each other.

  Jasper found himself seated beside Lady Leah, on one of the settees. He noticed, with a shade of ire, that Stephen was standing beside Lady Selina, who was perched delicately on the other settee. He was talking to her animatedly, and she was all gracious smiles.

  Jasper felt himself begin to simmer. He had never before felt jealous, but he was. He had never been in love before.

  Pre-dinner cordials were handed out. Jasper sipped his, finding it blindingly sweet. He wished that it would all be over.

  Chapter Eleven

  “My Lady,” Lord Sandbourne said, beaming at Selina. She smiled in return. She enjoyed Lord Sandbourne’s company. She was not in any danger of falling for him like she had his friend. She could feel the Duke watching them.

  “Yes, My Lord?” she asked, keeping her gaze anywhere, but in the Duke’s direction.

  “I was wondering if you had any interest in the art of automata?” Lord Sandbourne asked her

  “I’ve seen a few, actually,” she replied. “There was an exhibit in Paris two years ago.”

  “My father loved them,” Lord Sandbourne said, offering her his arm. She stood, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing herself to be led into the room, where a thick velvet curtain was pulled in front of a little alcove.

  Lord Sandbourne pulled the curtain aside, to show the clockwork swan, on the other side. She gasped, peering at it.

  “What’s she made of?” she asked. The swan was made of gleaming metal, and she sat on a river of glass, with little silver clockwork fish adorning the sides. She was a delicate creature, with gleaming jet-black eyes.

  “Silver,” he said, pulling a key from his pocket. “Would you care to do the honors, My Lady?”

  Selina beamed. “I’d be happy to, My Lord.” She took the key, and Lord Sandbourne instructed her on its operation. She turned it, winding it up. Then, the water, made of pieces of glass, began to move, so it looked like the swan was floating on a river. The swan’s head moved, so it looked like she was feeding.

  Selina was astounded. “Her movements are so lifelike!” she exclaimed, clapping. As the swan moved, chimes inside of her clockwork sounded, ringing merrily like church bells.

  “Yes,” Lord Sandbourne agreed. “She was my father’s favorite thing.”

  “It’s amazing,” Lord Munro claimed. “How much would something like this cost?”

  “It’s priceless,” Lord Sandbourne said, not answering the question.

  Lord Munro turned toward the Duke. “Jasper, you must have something like this made.”

  Lady Leah, clinging to the Duke’s arm, looked up at him. “Yes, Your Grace! We can place it in the parlor.”

  “Along with the stained-glass window?” he asked. “What else should we add? A harp of solid gold and a tiara, as well?” He laughed, attempting to sound merry. Selina heard the note of bitterness in his voice. He tried to catch her eye, but she turned back toward the swan, who was just ending her swim.

  She looked at Lord Sandbourne. “That was quite a surprise, My Lord,” she said. “I’ve only seen one other like it,” she said.

  “Truly?” he asked.

  “Yes—there was an exhibition of clockwork and automata on display,” she replied. “Everyone went. Your father would have been very interested in it.”

  “Whose work was there?” he asked.

  “Several pieces of Athanasius Kircher’s,” she said.

  “Kircher! You know about Kircher?” Lord Sandbourne asked.

  “Dinner, My Lord,” the butler called out from the doorway.

  “Come, My Lady,” Lord Sandbourne said, offering her his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook. “We must continue this conversation.”

  Jasper suffered through all four courses of the meal that his good friend had planned. Each one went by, agonizingly drawn out. He barely tasted it. His eyes kept wandering, over to where Lady Selina sat, entertaining the whole party with stories.

  She was like the Faerie Queen. No lady in all the world was her match with her golden hair and her hazel eyes. The silver dress made it even more pronounced.

  Several times, she looked his way, and her smile would falter, just a little, and then the mask would return, and she would hide her true thoughts and feelings. Jasper knew that he was the only one to notice the little slip of her mask.

  She was upset with him; it was clear. What had he done, aside from doing what he thought would ensure her safety?

  He resolved
to speak with her, as soon as possible.

  Once the party left the dining room, headed for the parlor, he watched, as she separated herself, going to the window, to look out over Sandbourne’s cow-filled pastures.

  He trailed behind her. “Something bothers you, My Lady,” he said, in a low voice.

  She turned toward him, a look of surprise on her face. There it was—the slip of the mask. It was gone a moment later, replaced by a grin. “Not at all, Your Grace. I’m having a wonderful time.”