A Duke in Need of a Wife

by Annie Burrows

  Sofia didn’t blame her. Oh, she could see why Oliver had considered each and every one of them. Lady Sarah would have made a magnificent duchess and both she and Lady Margaret were so ambitious they would have swallowed any condition Oliver imposed upon them regarding Livvy, if it meant getting their grasping claws on his title. Lady Elizabeth would have defended Livvy from wagging tongues as a matter of principle, judging from the way she’d reacted to Lady Sarah’s machinations.

  Only Lady Beatrice might have genuinely liked Livvy. Though that relationship could well have foundered if it turned out that Livvy didn’t love horses.

  ‘And I,’ said Oliver firmly, ‘do not want any of them to be my wife.’

  ‘I know you could teach him how to be a good father,’ said Livvy. ‘Not that I’m sure what a father oughta be seeing’s I never had one before I come here, but...’

  ‘We will find out together,’ put in Oliver, ‘what a father should be, I think, Livvy. I am not altogether sure myself, you see, having had such a bad example set for me.’

  Livvy looked up at him, her little face wearing a very grown-up expression of sympathy. ‘You got a lot to learn about being a husband, too, I reckon. None of Mama’s beaux would ever have said she was like nettle rash.’ She shook her dark head in reproof.

  ‘Your father,’ said Sofia, a smile tugging at her heart, ‘may not have a smooth way with words, it is true, but I do think he could be the perfect husband for me.’

  Oliver’s arm tightened round her waist. He looked at her warily. ‘You do?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘But you...accused me of...and said you needed more time...’

  ‘Which you very generously gave me. So that I could think things through. Which I needed to do. Even though none of the other ladies you invited here would have done. And I know it must have been very hard for you to understand, but then they wanted very different things from you as a husband than I want.’

  ‘But—’ his face tightened ‘—you want me to love you, Sofia. And I don’t know how to do that...’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she said gently.

  ‘I wish I did, but...’

  He looked so baffled she wanted to hug him, then realised she already was hugging him. Which meant she would have to explain it to him in very simple words.

  ‘You mean, I think, really, that you wish you didn’t, because you think love is a weakness. Otherwise you wouldn’t refer to it as suffering a form of nettle rash. And I can see why you have resented the process of falling in love with me. It has made you break so many of your resolutions. You told me you were never going to be alone with any of your Duchess candidates, yet the moment I arrived, you took me to the kennels to visit Snowball.’

  ‘You looked so worried.’

  ‘You looked so cross,’ she countered with a smile. ‘And then, when I said I couldn’t marry you because I didn’t know how to be a duchess, you wouldn’t accept any of my reasons, would you? Not even when I said I wouldn’t know how to defend Livvy from spiteful gossip.’

  ‘Well, your aunt can teach you how to do that,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘Don’t forget, I was there when she crossed swords with Lady Sale. She is a force to be reckoned with.’

  ‘Oh, Oliver, you don’t need to try to persuade me you want me to be your wife for practical reasons. I know you are wary of giving way to emotions. But not all emotions are bad. Just consider...out of all the married couples who are here this week, which is the happiest, would you say?’

  ‘Your uncle and aunt,’ he said without hesitation.

  ‘Exactly. And they married in the teeth of opposition from my family because they were in love. And that love has lasted and sustained them throughout all their years together.’

  He searched her face.

  ‘Oliver, you don’t need to worry that succumbing to love will make you a lesser man.’

  ‘But what of you,’ he said, avoiding the issue. ‘You said you didn’t love me, either. Have you...changed your mind?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

  He frowned. ‘When? What changed it?’

  ‘It was after I fell in the lake. When you were so cross with me.’

  ‘You decided you loved me because I was cross with you?’

  ‘No, not exactly. It was because I started to worry that you were so cross you might have changed your mind about marrying me. The thought of you with any of those others...’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t bear to so much as leave my room in case I saw you seeming to favour any of them.’

  He squeezed her and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. ‘I will never change my mind about wanting to marry you.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, her heart soaring. ‘I knew it the moment you called me Sofia, today, without asking my permission.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, looking a touch uncomfortable. ‘I do apologise. I never manage to behave with complete propriety whenever I get within two yards of you.’

  ‘No, no, that is a good thing,’ she assured him. ‘Because while I was thinking about what kind of husband I wanted, I worked out that I wanted a man who would love me the way my father loved my mother—so much, that he flouted all the conventions by marrying her in spite of her being a foreigner and a Catholic. It caused such a scandal.’

  ‘Did it?’ He looked worried. ‘You wish me to cause a scandal, to prove how much I love you?’ He took a deep breath. ‘I suppose I could—’

  ‘No...’ she laid her hand across his mouth ‘...you do not need to do anything further. You have already flouted enough conventions, for a man of your principles, to prove your love to my own satisfaction.’

  ‘I have?’

  ‘Yes. You broke all the rules that you apply so strictly to others. You used my given name without permission. You invaded my bedroom...’ He flushed a dull crimson. ‘But most of all, you trusted me with the truth about Livvy. Trusted me to be a mother to her, when she is your most precious treasure.’

  He tore his intent gaze from her, to glance down at Livvy.

  ‘She is,’ he grated.

  ‘And just now, you know, when you weren’t thinking about it, you said you would cause a scandal to prove how much you love me.’

  ‘You did,’ cried Livvy.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he said slowly. And then one side of his mouth curved up. ‘I’ve lost this particular battle, haven’t I? I ought to feel defeated, but I don’t.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ She smiled up at him.

  ‘No,’ he said, his smile growing wider. ‘I feel about ten feet tall. Because you love me back. It makes me feel as if I could take on the world.’

  And then all of a sudden he swept her into his arms, and whirled her round and round, to the delight of Livvy and the bewilderment of Snowball, who gave vent to a volley of barking and jumping.

  ‘We will announce our betrothal tonight, at dinner,’ he said, setting her down.

  ‘Oh, and will I be sitting next to you, then?’ she couldn’t resist asking. ‘By rights it should be the turn of Lady Beatrice. She is, after all, the daughter of an earl...’

  He gave her a mock glower. ‘And to think I was expecting you to want me to start flouting conventions.’

  ‘Not if it is going to mean hurting anyone.’

  His severe lips curved into a knowing smile. ‘I don’t think Lady Beatrice will care. She is well on the way to reaching an understanding with Captain Beamish, if I am not very much mistaken. And once I announce our betrothal, her mother will stop pushing her in my direction.’

  ‘Then I shall not mind sitting by your side at dinner tonight,’ she conceded.

  ‘And for the rest our lives,’ he said firmly.

  Oh, that sounded good. So good. Finally, after all the years of trying so hard to fit in, she’d fallen into a niche that could have been carved out especially for her. A
place where she truly belonged.

  In the hearts of these two dear people.

  But most importantly in the arms of this one man.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story check out the

  Brides for Bachelors miniseries

  by Annie Burrows

  The Major Meets His Match

  The Marquess Tames His Bride

  The Captain Claims His Lady

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  His Three-Day Duchess

  by Laurie Benson

  Prologue

  London—July, 1819

  As she sat across the desk from her solicitor, it was beginning to feel as if Lizzy had been waiting all her life for Mr Simon Alexander. And as the newly widowed Duchess of Skeffington, she wasn’t accustomed to waiting for anything or anyone. Her husband had died months ago and she had yet to meet Mr Alexander, her husband’s heir or, as he would be referred to now, the Duke of Skeffington. His tardiness today at the reading of her late husband’s will was doing nothing to help the annoyance she already felt towards a man she had never met.

  ‘I’m sure he won’t be much longer,’ Mr Nesbit said, furrowing his grey brows and glancing at his pocket watch for what must have been the fifth time since she had arrived at his office at promptly one o’clock in the afternoon.

  Lizzy toyed with her emerald necklace and didn’t even try to hide her irritation. ‘At least one of us is confident in that. You’re certain he knows where we were to meet?’

  ‘I was very specific in my letter. He knows.’

  She glanced down the table to Rimsby, the impeccably dressed old man who had served as butler of Skeffington House here in London for as long as Lizzy had been married. This was a man who valued protocol and proper behaviour, and she imagined he was just as displeased with his new employer’s tardiness as she was. Mrs Thacker, who was seated next to Rimsby, had an odd blush about her at the mention of the new Duke—a blush that in the twelve years that the woman had been her housekeeper, she had never seen brighten her normally sombre countenance.

  ‘Do we still have to wait for him?’ She directed her question to Lord Liverpool, the executor of her husband’s estate, who at the moment was standing by the window looking out at the busy London street. ‘We know he finally is in London after all these months. Can’t we just begin and Mr Nesbit can give him a brief summary of what he missed when he arrives?’

  He stepped away from the window and turned to face her. ‘Skeffington was very insistent that the will was to be read only when everyone who benefited was present and Mr Alexander, as the new Duke, must be present.’

  Beside her Mr Mix, her late husband’s secretary, shifted in his chair. The leather gave a considerable creak, which was surprising in light of his small, wiry frame. The gentleman, who was about twenty years older than Lizzy’s twenty-nine years, continued to sit silently, offering no indication on how he felt about the tardy behaviour of the new Duke. But as he had worked with her husband for all those years, she assumed he was accustomed to keeping his opinions to himself. He sat staring at his clasped hands on the table and she wondered once again why he had been content to be berated by her husband for so long. Certainly, there were other members of the House of Lords who would have welcomed his services. He could have put the Duke’s company behind him long ago, unlike Lizzy who had been forced to endure it since she was seventeen.

  ‘Do you know if Mr Alexander will be retaining your services, Mr Mix?’ Lizzy asked him to pass the time.

  ‘I do not. Since he just arrived here in London a few nights ago, we’ve not yet had the opportunity to meet.’

  Now that Mr Alexander was finally in London, Mr Mix had to believe that the status of his job was precarious.

  ‘I know how my husband relied on you. I’m sure the new Duke will, as well.’ She tried to be reassuring when she noticed his right leg bouncing nervously under the table.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Your Grace,’ he replied, giving her what appeared to be a strained smile.

  He wasn’t the only one who was feeling the need to move. Lizzy wanted desperately to get up and walk about the room, but Lord Liverpool was already taking up that action. They didn’t need to bump into one another as they waited for the tardy Duke to grace them with his presence. It appeared he had settled into his new station in life already and was going to be one of those gentlemen who strove to create a grand entrance by arriving late, reminding them all that he was a duke of England and they all would have to adjust to his schedule. She had witnessed behaviour like this before. Well, she was a duchess and had held her esteemed rank longer than he had!

  She was just about to request a glass of sherry to still her agitation when one of Mr Nesbit’s clerks appeared in the doorway and announced the Duke of Skeffington. Lizzy’s stomach did an uncomfortable dip. It had been six months since she’d heard someone announce that name and she had to remind herself that her odious husband was dead. Now that his successor was in London, she would have to grow accustomed to hearing that name without that familiar feeling of dread.

  Turning her head, she finally came face-to-face with her late husband’s heir. The handsome gentleman standing tall in the doorway with the lean, athletic build was not what she had expected. He appeared to be only a few years older than she was and by the cut of his brown tailcoat and the state of his boots she could assume he was a man who dressed out of necessity instead of fashion—even though the cut of the coat did wonders to draw attention to his broad shoulders and the defined muscles in his arms. His dark eyes rimmed with thick dark lashes settled on Lizzy for a few additional heartbeats before he continued to survey the occupants in the room. For those extra moments that their eyes held, the room seemed to fade away.

  Mr Nesbit came around the table, breaking the spell that had come over her, and shook the new Duke’s hand. ‘Your Grace, thank you for joining us. We were growing concerned that there might have been an accident.’

  ‘No, there was no accident. As you can see, Nesbit, I am in one piece.’

  And a very fine piece he was in with that jet-black hair, a lock of which was threatening to fall into his dark eyes. But when it was apparent he had no intention of apologising for keeping them waiting, it reaffirmed Lizzy’s belief that only arrogant selfish men would hold the title of Duke o
f Skeffington.

  ‘You have been keeping us waiting for over an hour.’

  She hadn’t intended to address him. She was at the end of her tether, waiting for confirmation that Skeffington had given her Stonehaven as her permanent residence. Six months was a long time to live without knowing what your future would hold—and it was all because of him. His laissez-faire attitude was irksome. It was the only explanation as to why she felt compelled to address him before Mr Nesbit had the opportunity to formally introduce them.

  He turned to face her and Lizzy fought the urge to touch her hair to make sure it was still meticulously arranged.

  ‘And you are?’

  His accent gave away that he was from the north and, if she had to guess, she thought perhaps the Lincolnshire area.

  ‘I’m Elizabeth, the Duchess of Skeffington,’ she replied before Mr Nesbit could step in.

  ‘You are his wife?’ His deep smooth voice almost had a hint of surprise in it.

  ‘If you are referring to your predecessor, then the answer is yes.’

  He tilted his head slightly and appeared to be studying her more intently, and Lizzy forced her hands to remain lightly folded on her lap.

  ‘You are not what I was expecting.’

  ‘And I was expecting a gentleman who would arrive promptly to attend the reading of a will.’

  ‘I had a matter that needed attending to first. You could have started reading it without me.’

  It was taking considerable effort not to raise her voice. ‘No, we couldn’t. If we were able to do that we would have done so months ago when you were gallivanting wherever it was you’ve been.’

  ‘Gallivanting?’ There was a quirk to his slightly full lips.

  ‘Yes, gallivanting. Now could we please finally have a reading of this will so we all can go forward with our lives? I’m assuming, Mr Nesbit, we are all here now and there is no one else we need to wait for?’

  ‘There is no one else mentioned in the will. Everyone is present.’

  He introduced the new Duke, who Lizzy was having a hard time thinking of as Skeffington, to Lord Liverpool and Mr Mix. The man nodded a greeting to Rimsby and Mrs Thacker, before taking a seat beside Lizzy at the table.