Outwitting the Duke

by Deb Marlowe

  “No!” She crossed the hall, sat in his lap and kissed him. “The thought of marrying you makes me delirious with joy, not nervous.”

  “This isn’t even your meeting,” he said, settling his arms around her.

  “I know. I was just so shocked when Mama refused to meet the duke.”

  “She did write him a very pretty Thank You for the help he gave us. He even let me read it.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . I thought she’d been waiting for this her whole life. And once we knew that Danby meant us no harm, I thought she would jump at the chance to meet him.”

  “I think the reality of having a dream come true can be frightening,” Hart said soothingly. “She only needed some time to think about it. And she relented and agreed to meet him before the wedding, so all we can do is be grateful.”

  “We can also be worried,” she corrected.

  A step sounded on the chair and Emily bounded out of Hart’s lap to face the Tower. The duke emerged with her mother by his side. Emily watched anxiously, but her mother smiled and nodded—and Emily rushed to embrace them both.

  She and Hart were married a week later in the great hall. On their wedding night Hart gifted her with her own personal library in the top of the South Tower.

  “Glenna has agreed to help you fill it with all of your favorites,” he told her between raptures. “I thought you would like it. You will need a new past time, after all.” He grinned. “I’ve got the rents covered.”

  She laughed, remembering their discussion and threw herself into his arms. “I have a new vocation now,” she whispered. “You.”

  She was very diligent about it too, and though it took a year and six months more, Hart’s great-great-grandmother did come to visit Emily—and became a regular apparition for some time afterward. Their family was large and boisterous—and as should be said of an earl and his countess living in a castle—they lived Happily Ever After.

  About Deb Marlowe

  USA Today Bestselling author Deb Marlowe adores History, England and Men in Boots. Clearly she was destined to write Regency Historical Romance.

  A Golden Heart Award winner and Rita nominee, Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she'd read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party--even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, not one of the men in her family is yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She's working on it.

  Thank you so much for reading The Earl’s Hired Bride. I hope you enjoyed it! If you are interested in hearing when my next book will be released, you can join my newsletter at http://www.DebMarlowe.com

  Connecting with Deb

  @DebMarlowe

  Deb-Marlowe-70397149702

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  Also by Deb Marlowe

  The Half Moon House Series

  The Love List

  An Unexpected Encounter

  A Slight Miscalculation

  A Waltz in the Park

  Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

  Beyond a Reasonable Duke

  The Leading Lady

  Lady, It’s Cold Outside

  His Unsuspecting Heart

  Aileen Fish

  Chapter 1

  April, 1817

  London

  “Ellie, who is that handsome man just there? The one with brown hair and brooding expression?” Miss Tabitha Minett fluttered her fan before her face to keep her words from carrying far.

  “Which one? Fully half of the men in the ballroom have brown hair and brooding brows,” Eleanor, Lady Wickham whispered back. “And don’t tell me he’s the one in the black coat, either, for the same reason. Point with your fan if you must.”

  Tabby snapped her fan closed in his direction. “There, Ellie. Beside Lady Barbara.”

  Ellie’s laughter rang out musically, drawing looks from the people around them. “That’s Lord Giles, Wickham’s brother. Have you not been introduced? Come, I shall rectify that at once.” She began to march away, a soldier in her duty to seeing her friend as happily married as she was.

  “No! Wouldn’t that be too obvious? I must be coy. Try to draw his attention on my own.” Opening her fan again, she fluttered it delicately just below her eyes and peered over the lace edge.

  “Not that way. You look like a spy. Try this.” Ellie lifted her fan to hide her neck and the barest bit of her chin. She smiled, dipped her head and glanced up through her lashes. “Now you do it.”

  Tabby was foolish to even consider flirting. She had no skills when it came to men. The fact that she was one-and-twenty and had yet to even draw the interest of a man her father considered suitable proved she was hopeless. No man as handsome as Lord Giles would notice her.

  “Are you ill, dear wife?” Lord Wickham appeared at Ellie’s side, biting the corner of his lips in a failed attempt to hide a smile.

  Tabby blushed, even though the words hadn’t been directed at her. Had Wickham heard them discuss his brother? She’d be mortified if he had. She’d never show her face in London again.

  Ellie slanted a look at Tabby with a broad smile. “No, dear. I was merely demonstrating the myriad ways a lady could use her fan to communicate with a gentleman.”

  He cleared his throat and pulled his cravat away from his neck. “I wouldn’t recommend doing so, Miss Minett, in spite of what my wife has told you. You’re as likely to signal the desire for an assignation as for conversation. Why doesn’t your sex make it easy on us men and simply request an introduction? That’s the best way to declare your attraction to him.”

  Slapping his arm with her fan, Ellie said, “A direct approach such as that might easily be mistaken as a desire for an assignation as you have said.”

  Shutting them out of her thoughts, Tabby rose on her toes to study the room. Where had he gone? She might not directly ask for an introduction, but since she’d met Lady Barbara through Ellie, Tabby could receive an introduction by happenstance.

  But Lady Barbara was nowhere to be seen. Nor Lord Giles. Drat. Wickham’s distraction made her lose sight of the one person she longed to meet. If Lord Giles shared his brother’s temperament, he’d be everything Tabby longed for in a husband. Intelligent. Loving. Considerate. And not so full of his own importance to believe he’s above all others in the room.

  She sighed. He was perfect.

  He was standing directly in front of her.

  Tabby’s heart stopped beating for five full counts and it took another two before she could inhale. Had he seen her watching him?

  “Grandmama wishes to leave,” Lady Barbara said to Ellie. “May I tell her you and Wickham will protect me from any vile rogues in attendance?”

  Wickham’s lips drew back on one side in a wry smile. “I shall speak to her and wait with her for the carriage. She’ll allow you to remain with us. The night is still young.”

  Lady Barbara bounced on her toes and gave her brother a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  In the span of seconds it took for anyone else to speak, Tabby felt panic swallowing her again. What should she say to Lord Giles? After they were introduced of course. Oh, why wasn’t someone introducing them?

  “Giles, have you met our friend Miss Minett? Her mother and mine are close.” Ellie nudged Tabby with her elbow causing her to bump into Lord Giles.

  He grasped her upper arms to prevent her from falling. “Delighted to meet you.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could say. What was Ellie thinking?

  Lady Barbara must have caught something in Ellie’s expression. “Brother, the poor girl isn’t dancing. You must escort her in the next set. Being seen with you would raise her esteem in the ey
es of the other men.”

  Tabby swooned and nearly fell against Lord Giles once more. She glared at her two friends hoping they’d understand her plea to not embarrass her further. Why not directly tell the man she was undesirable and not worth his notice?

  “I’d be delighted, although some of the matrons might scratch her name off their guest lists. They’d realize how much prettier she is than their daughters.”

  Heat washed over Tabby. “Please, do not tease me so. I’m liable to fall over my own feet from self-consciousness while I dance.” She fanned herself vigorously, unable to lift her gaze to Lord Giles’.

  Shortly thereafter, with no more damage to Tabby’s composure, Lord Giles led her to the center of the room, where a waltz had been announced. Her evening couldn’t get any worse. She should be delighted to be held in Lord Giles’ arms, but she trembled with worry that he knew she’d been watching him.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder, holding herself as far away as she could.

  Lord Giles urged her closer with his hand against her back. “I won’t bite you, I promise.”

  “Of course not.” Her laugh sounded like a wool-headed ninny. “My mother is here and might think I’m causing a scandal.” Now she’d proved she was a wool-headed ninny.

  “I’ll refrain from taking you out on the balcony after the dance.”

  Drat! He’d wanted to go somewhere private with her? No, he was surely teasing her. They’d just met. As the music swelled and she floated across the floor in his arms, Tabby convinced herself he was merely the brother of her friends. Not the most handsome man in the room. Not the one who, only moments ago, she’d imagined herself marrying.

  He danced with such grace she wished the music would never stop, but it did. “Shall I return you to your mother, or my sisters?”

  “Your sisters, please. I’ve been attempting to avoid Mama all evening. She plans to introduce me to the son of some friend of hers.”

  “And you don’t wish to meet him? I thought that’s why all young ladies and their mothers came to Town during the Season.”

  “We do, but—” She caught herself, realizing what she was saying. She tempered her words. “Of course everyone is in Town to meet others, but the gentleman one’s mother might have in mind isn’t always the man one wishes to meet.”

  Lord Giles chuckled, the deep sound sending ripples of excitement through her. “I understand completely. We gentlemen have the same situation to face. Let us make a pact. If either of us needs to escape the company of some poor, innocent victim of our loving families’ intentions, we shall signal each other for rescue.”

  Tabby smiled up at him. She couldn’t speak. He was absolutely perfect.

  The next evening, Lord Giles Graves wished he were dead. Well, if he remained in his mother’s Mayfair drawing room much longer he would be. Standing behind his mother’s chair, he clenched a glass of lemonade in his hand. Plain lemonade. No wine or brandy added to make the hours more tolerable.

  Barbara sat at the pianoforte displaying her almost flawless talent and her sweet voice, which blended perfectly with the resonant tenor of Lord Aaron Harlow. Giles suspected they might announce an engagement before the end of the Season, but Barbara had yet to mention any attachment in Giles’ presence.

  Two families in addition to his own sat or stood with the appearance of listening intently. His grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Stapleton, fought the sleep that had her head bobbing. Several of the young ladies giggled behind their fans as they glanced in Giles’ direction. He paid them no mind so as not to encourage them. What with his brother Wickham’s recent wedding to Lady Eleanor, Giles was already too near the altar, even if only as a witness to Wickham and Eleanor’s joy. Once he’d paid a few calls with Mother and Barbara over the next week, he could claim his duties at the House of Commons kept him too busy. Sessions often ran late into the night, so he had a valid excuse. When he wanted one.

  Applause brought his attention back to the room where Barbara and Lord Aaron had finished their song. Giles smiled and nodded to his sister, who grinned with delight at all the applause.

  The butler chose that precise moment to announce dinner. He’d likely lingered outside the door before making his presence known.

  “Thank you, Linwood,” Mother said. “Shall we move to the dining room?”

  Giles quickly took his spot beside his mother to lead her into the other room. The others followed and were seated at his mother’s whim rather than precedence. She must have matchmaking in mind, but he wasn’t certain who her intended victims where.

  Mother was as much a Whitton in that respect as her uncle by marriage, the Duke of Danby. She enjoyed pairing up single men and ladies whom she felt belonged together. Any day now, she’d be pressing some poor soul under Giles’ attention. Thus the plan behind using Parliament to avoid social occasions.

  Seated between the elderly Mrs. Midgely and her spinster daughter Miss Philadelphia, who was ten years his senior at the very least, Giles carried on his share of the conversation without the pressure of worrying that his attention might be misconstrued. “How fares the girls’ school you sponsor, Miss Midgely?”

  “Quite well, thank you. I sent the duchess an invitation to our annual charity ball. Will you be joining her and Lady Barbara?”

  Not if he could help it. “I’m not yet certain of my schedule. You may count on me for a donation, regardless of whether I’m able to attend.”

  Mrs. Midgely placed her hand on Giles’ arm. “Several of the school girls are quite talented musically. You must call on us Thursday afternoon to hear them. You’ll enjoy it immensely.”

  “Ah, Thursday. I’m quite disappointed at not being able to attend, but duty calls.” Mother would box his ears if she heard him turning down invitations. It was as if Mother believed he only viewed his position as a Member of Parliament as a frivolous activity like visiting White’s Gentlemen’s Club, or going a few rounds boxing.

  Mrs. Midgely pressed her pursuit of his acceptance of her invitation. “Your cousins, Lord and Lady Morley, have already accepted their invitation to our ball. As has Lady Wickham. You will know many of the guests.”

  During April in London it was impossible to step into a drawing room where one didn’t know at least one or two of the guests. He enjoyed dancing, but not in such crowded quarters as the first balls of the Season tended to be.

  Giles kept up his end of the conversation at the table, and again when they returned to the drawing room, and sighed in relief when the last guest departed.

  “I shall sleep late in the morning,” Mother said as she rose to go to her bedchamber. “Do not disturb me.”

  Barbara followed Mother into the hallway.

  Grandmother slipped off her shoes and leaned back in her chair. “I’m far too old for this sort of evening.” She sighed and tucked a lock of hair under her pale yellow turban.

  “Nonsense. You’ll never be too old to enjoy a good bit of gossip. Was there any juicy tidbit I might have missed?” He sat in the chair nearest hers.

  “Someone mentioned an artist who has been painting Lord Olhouser’s daughters. I remember having my portrait painted just after I turned eighteen. He was French, my artist. Jean Claude Pinot.” Her eyes glassed over as she stared into the fire. “He was so very handsome, and spoke to me quite boldly when no one was around.”

  Giles chuckled. How bold would an artist be with the daughter of a duke?

  Suddenly she perked up. “Did you know he painted a landscape for me of my father’s estate? I quite treasured that picture. His strokes were so delicate, his signature quite dramatic with its whirls and bold strokes. When your grandfather and I moved here from our town house, the painting vanished. I asked several of the servants what had become of it, but not one knew.”

  “That must have distressed you greatly, for you to remember it after all these years.”

  “That painting was very important to me. I placed some personal papers in the back of the canvas.
” Grandmother sighed and held out her hand. “Escort me to my room, my boy.”

  “Gladly, Grandmother.”

  As they ascended the staircase, her hand tucked around his arm, she squeezed tighter. “You’ll tell me if you see the painting when you pay calls, won’t you? You’ll recognize the pond from my Danby Castle, and see the artist’s name. Jean Claude Pinot.”

  “I doubt I would come across it after all this time if you haven’t been able to discover it.”

  “I couldn’t be obvious in my search. Your grandfather would have chided me for being upset over a landscape. He would have hired someone to paint another one. Yet it’s that painting I long to have back.”

  The distress in her voice was so clear, Giles didn’t have the heart to placate her. It would be too cruel. “I don’t know where to begin to look. Weren’t the unused furnishings placed in the attic here when you moved in?”

  “Yes, but I’ve looked there. A few of the statues and miscellany we had were never seen again, so I assumed he either sold them or left them behind with the house. He sold the house to his friend, Mr. Horatio Minett.”

  Giles wasn’t about to go barging into someone’s home and demand to look at their artwork. But he couldn’t leave Grandmother in distress. “I’ll do what I can to find the painting, but I can’t make any promises. Too much time has passed.”

  They reached her door and she stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my dear boy. You’ve always been so good to me.”

  Chapter 2

  Three days later, Giles walked from his rooms in the Albany to the family home. As he’d hoped, he found Barbara reading in the morning room. As he’d prayed, she was alone.

  “I need your help.”

  She glanced up from her book. “What is it?”