Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance

by Osborne, Scarlett

  “What are you thinking about?” Rose’s voice cut rudely into her fantasies and her eyes flew open in mortification.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your face is twitching and grimacing. What are you thinking about?” her sister was sneering no doubt preparing to make fun of Melissa’s thoughts.

  “Oh, I was just imagining various ways to end your life. It got rather gory. I apologize if my face disconcerted you.”

  Beside her on the bench, Brynn giggled, trying to hide it in her embroidery and not doing a very good job. Rose’s lady’s maid had her mouth wide open in shock.

  “Close your mouth before you inadvertently swallow an insect,” Melissa told her, making Brynn giggle even more. The other girl closed her mouth with a snap. Melissa realized that she did not know her name. Rose changed lady’s maids like gowns. No doubt this latest one was regretting taking this particular employment.

  Rose snorted, looking away with a frown. Melissa closed her eyes again, going back to her fantasies.

  * * *

  Patrick was nervous. His sister had managed to squeeze from him the entire tale of his fraught love life, including his intention to elope. She was surprisingly supportive of it, even if he had explained that he might have to leave the country–at least for a while.

  “You love her a lot do you not?” she had asked wistfully.

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Then it’s worth it, isn’t it?”

  Patrick had sighed. “It is. And yet, I cannot help but regret leaving you behind.”

  “I shall go away to France soon. Perhaps you can visit me there.”

  “I should love that. I do not know how Aunt Gabrielle would feel about me turning up at her residence.”

  “Oh pshaw! She is French. She understands true love.”

  Patrick laughed. “I pray you are right.”

  “I am.” She had leaped at Patrick, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight. “You are doing the right thing, brother.”

  Patrick’s lip had quivered with the temptation to tell her his other secret; the existence of a by blow condemned to an almshouse. He resisted because it was too much; Caroline was yet untouched by the ugliness of the world. Patrick would not be the one to introduce it to her. Not especially by way of their father and his indiscretions.

  Patrick thought about confronting their father with his knowledge–and yet he was aware that his father had already lied about it. It was unlikely he would be moved to tell the truth just because Patrick wanted to know. He shook his head, unable to assimilate the image of his father in his mind with the villain of the story.

  He sighed, turning his mind to Melissa and the fact that in a day or so, she would be here with him. For now, the household was preparing for the arrival of the Duke and the Duchess. Patrick wondered if their stepmother knew about the side of his father he’d just discovered.

  He doubted it.

  She was vulgar and little more than a cit, but in spite of that, or maybe because of it, her feelings for the Duke were real and she believed they were returned. No doubt she would be more heartbroken if she knew.

  For all I know, her feelings are returned.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, Patrick dismissed it. Even in his most devoted days, he had always assumed that there was some more commercial reason for his father pledging his troth to Miss Alexandra Tolbert, first-born child to shipping magnate, William Tolbert who commanded a fleet large enough to rival that of Her Majesty’s Navy. He hailed from New York and was therefore quite happy for his daughter to join the English nobility.

  Probably because he had not heard of father’s more illicit activities. Patrick thought bitterly.

  He could find it in his spirit to pity his stepmother but not for long. She was far too irritating for real sympathy, her voice too loud, her manner too tawdry. Patrick did his best, but he was hard pressed not to wince continually in her presence.

  Father must really have wanted those ships. He thought cynically.

  He watched as the Duke and Duchess alighted from their carriage, a pleased smile on the Duchess’ face as the servants all lined up to greet her. She was enamored of such traditions even though she must have been used to them, living as she had on her father’s cotton plantation. She greeted the servants as regally as she could manage before sweeping into the house and extending her gloved hand to Patrick for a kiss.

  Patrick obliged, even as he noted Caroline rolling her eyes from the corner of his own. His father nodded his greeting, a slight smile on his face.

  “And how goes the preparations for the hunt?” he asked them both.

  “Everything is ready, Father,” Patrick replied.

  The Duke nodded before summoning his steward and retiring to his study. Patrick sighed, looking to Caroline with a rueful glance. She gave him an encouraging smile. “Shall we go riding? We have yet to check the route that the hunt will take.”

  “Good point.” Patrick smiled and offered her his arm as they sedately walked out to the stables. “Do you not need to change into your riding habit?” he asked.

  Caroline shrugged. “I can ride quite well in this. Why? Do you need to change?”

  Patrick gave her a shark-toothed smile. “What do you think?”

  “I think…the last one to the stables is a ninny!” she shouted as she took off at a run. Patrick let her get two paces ahead of him before taking off after her. He would let her win–that was his job as her big brother. But he did intend to make her work for it.

  * * *

  They stayed at an inn for the night. Several people had been evicted to make room for their party and that made Melissa feel somewhat embarrassed. She should have been used to it by now. It was not as if her father had requested that anyone be thrown out. In fact, she had only realized that they had displaced other people because she was standing near the stables with Brynn, watching the horses when two men emerged from the back door, griping bitterly about it all.

  “Oh dear,” she murmured to herself. Brynn turned to look at her.

  “Are you well?”

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You look distressed.”

  “I am not. I am mortified that we have gotten other people evicted but since it is out of my hands, I cannot be distressed about it.”

  Brynn stared at her. “I have never known you to be concerned before.”

  Melissa shrugged. “Perhaps I am growing up.”

  Brynn gave her a speculative glance. “Perhaps you are.”

  * * *

  Patrick let his parents and sister greet the guests as they arrived. His Aunt Hilda, who lived in Bath was first to arrive, escorted by her companion as well as a lady’s maid and two footmen. They had quite a long procession of luggage.

  “How long does she mean to stay?” Patrick shook his head as he watched from the balcony as the footmen ferried bags to the largest guest room. Aunt Hilda always came early for a reason.

  Patrick snorted feeling glad to have missed welcoming her to their home. Despite her almost weekly letters requesting funds from him, she still treated him like a little gentleman when they met and was wont to pinch his cheeks. Needless to say, Patrick did not enjoy that at all.

  Next to arrive was Nicholas Harvey. As far as Patrick knew, Nicholas was an acquaintance of the Duke’s. He did not seem to be pleased to have been invited to spend the weekend hunting with His Grace, however. Patrick could not even begin to imagine what kind of hold his father had on the Earl of Nordam. The Earl was alone and greeted the Duke with a stiffness that indicated he would rather have been attending an execution than be here.

  Patrick sighed, resolving that he would find time to probe the Earl and see if he might find out just what it was his father was holding over him. If it was some shameful secret, it was doubtful that the Earl would share it. It would be enough if he confirmed that the Duke was indeed blackmailing him. Patrick needed to be absolutely sure.

  The n
ext arrival was someone more dear to Patrick; the Earl of Stenwick. He smiled as he watched Driscoll extravagantly compliment his stepmother. He could tell by how much she was simpering in pleasure. Driscoll always did have a smooth tongue–it was a mystery why the gentleman was still single. There was more than one debutante who had shown interest in ending his bachelorhood.

  Patrick shrugged. It was not something they discussed in detail. If Stenwick had no interest in marriage, then Patrick would not press him. He moved away from the balcony as Stenwick’s valet started up the stairs with his bags, aiming to meet his friend at the top of the stairs. Stenwick met his smile with one of his own and they shook hands amiably.

  “Quite the hodgepodge of people you have assembled, wot?” he commented, watching Aunt Hilda dig into the buffet that had been set out on the verandah.

  Patrick laughed. “Yes, indeed. We should be well occupied looking for topics of conversation that will interest everyone.”

  They were distracted by the twittering voices of the three Addison sisters. The Addison place neighbored Cheshmill Hall to the south and they attended every one of his father’s events. The increase in excited squealing alerted the two gentlemen that the sisters and Caroline had caught sight of each other. Being essentially country bumpkins, the Duke deemed them suitable companions for his daughter as they were ‘unlikely to corrupt her’ in any way. Caroline was always excited to see them since they provided relief from her usually-lonely existence. The youngest was thirteen and the oldest seventeen–she would be having her come-out ball soon and then she would likely move away from socializing with her sisters and Caroline and begin the search for a husband. Patrick had not missed the speculative looks she cast in his direction and was grateful that by the time of her coming out, he would be safely married.

  The sisters had arrived with their mother and a chaperone, the former of whom was conversing animatedly with the Duchess. They shared a love for garish foreign furniture and gossip. As the wife of a Baronet, she certainly did not consider Duchess Cheshmill beneath her touch. Patrick had never thought about it before but not many higher-ranking members of the nobility voluntarily frequented his home.

  How strange that I never noticed that before.

  He could see now, what was pushing his father to merge with one of the most influential families in the realm. He really was something of an outcast among his peers. Patrick suspected that if they were not as wealthy as they were, that they might have been drummed out of the Bon Ton a long time ago.

  But why the eldest girl and not the youngest?

  Patrick kept coming back to that sticking point. The only thing he could think of was that there was some secret to do with Melissa that his father was holding over The Duchess of Greyfield’s head. The thought of that filled him with cold grue and nagging worry for his chosen love. Whatever it was, he would be willing to wager that Melissa did not know about it. He prayed frantically that it was nothing that would hurt her but knew that if her mother was so determined to keep it secret as to feign illness in order to dissuade Melissa from her chosen path, that it likely would cause severe hurt.

  Patrick wondered if it had been his father that had made The Duchess of Greyfield pretend to be sick or had it been her own idea? If it was the latter, it indicated a strong commitment to maintaining this secret.

  Speaking of the Duchess, he noted that three carriages had now drawn up in front of the houses.

  “I say, your dilemma is here,” Stenwick murmured sotto voce to him.

  Patrick snorted with amusement. “You have such a way with words, Driscoll.”

  “Why, thank you, Bergon. You’re not too bad yourself.”

  Patrick merely shook his head at his friend, brimming with the affection and relief of having him there. Suddenly Stenwick stiffened as the Alford family stepped gracefully through the door.

  Chapter 27

  If Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot

  “What’s the matter?” Patrick asked while simultaneously thinking ‘What now?’

  Stenwick shook his head. “No-nothing. I just had the most bizarre thought.”

  “Please do feel free to share with the room.” Patrick’s tone was the slightest bit irritable. He was beyond done with secrets.

  Stenwick shook his head. “It has been a long time since I saw the Duchess…” he mused, before lifting his chin with a grin, “Don’t exactly travel in the same circles, wot?”

  Patrick gave him an impatient look. “Yes, and?”

  “I espied her once, locked in a tense conversation…with your father and another gentleman.”

  “Speak plainly, Stenwick. Where did you see her and with whom?”

  Stenwick sighed. “It was some time ago, you understand. I was barely out of my leading strings. I only remembered her because of the impatient gesture she just made, toward her lady’s maid. She made the same gesture to the third gentleman and I remember wondering what he had done to deserve such curt dismissal.”

  “Where was this?”

  “By the docks. My governess had taken me there to work off some of my exuberance in the mud.”

  “Why? Was your back garden not big enough?” Patrick asked, grinning at his friend.

  Stenwick snorted. “She might have had a tendresse for one of the sailors, I don’t know. All I remember is that every week like clockwork, we would be down at the docks, I would be knee deep in mud and my governess would disappear for some time, come back all flushed, and we would go home where she would clean me up so there was no evidence of our excursion.”

  “It sounds as if you had a very exciting life.” Patrick clapped him amiably on the shoulder.

  “Well, perhaps. My point is, that’s where I saw The Duchess of Greyfield, speaking with your father. The conversation was heated. The third gentleman seemed as if he was trying to keep the peace and not doing a very good job of it.”

  Patrick bit his lip, looking into the middle distance thoughtfully. “What do you think they were discussing?”

  Stenwick lifted his eyebrows as if to say, ‘How should I know ?’ and then sighed. “Whatever it was, they were in extreme disagreement about it.”

  Patrick watched The Duchess of Greyfield walk up to his stepmother and the Baronet’s wife, greeting them both with a strained smile. Lady Rose followed close behind, a ready smile of her own on her face while Melissa stood just behind her father, looking around, searching for someone.

  “I think you’re wanted,” Stenwick said, nudging him and inclining his chin in Melissa’s direction.

  “Best I don’t go there now. I’m not ready.”

  Stenwick turned to regard him with surprise. “Why ever not?”

  “Too many expectations in one group.” Patrick looked from his father to The Duchess Greyfield, then to Lady Rose and finally, to Melissa.

  Stenwick whistled softly. “You have your work cut out for you, old boy. Perhaps we should remove to London at once before the hunt begins.”

  Patrick laughed ruefully. “You know, I think I would take you up on that offer if I could.”

  Stenwick regarded him, sympathy softening his features for a moment. Then he turned away to make a comment on the buffet, just in time to catch Nicholas Harvey emerging from the cover of the verandah. The Earl was staring in disbelief at The Duchess of Greyfield, his body seemingly frozen to the spot.

  “That’s him,” Stenwick said quietly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Patrick leaned closer; his brow furrowed with confusion.

  “The third gentleman.” Stenwick pointed at the Earl.

  Patrick’s brows rose right up to his hairline. “Huh. That is indeed…curious.”

  Stenwick turned to him. “Do tell.”

  Patrick shook his head. “It’s just that I know that the Earl is not happy to be here. Now, why did my father want him in the vicinity of the Duchess? It is clear they have a contentious relationship. Just what is father up to?”

  Stenwick sighed. “I expect we shall find out. Now
I see some delectable treats on that buffet table, are you quite sure you won’t come down with me?”

  Patrick looked at his friend. “I suppose I cannot hide forever.”

  * * *

  Melissa watched Patrick descend the staircase looking tall and elegant in his afternoon suit, as he walked beside a shorter, compact, though well-built gentleman with a mess of blond curls topping his very expressive face. Something seemed to be thoroughly amusing him at the moment and Melissa wondered what it could be. From the way they matched their strides, Melissa concluded that they were used to walking together quite a bit.