Almost A Duke, Almost My Love (Regency Romance)

by Rebecca Dash

  Almost A Duke, Almost My Love

  Rebecca Dash

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 1

  Lady Rachel Harrington had never faced such a dilemma before. There were just too many choices. There was the rose one, the silvery pale blue one, and the emerald green one. All of them were beautiful, but which should she choose? The decision was simply too hard.

  “Rachel, you must decide. Stop being ridiculous,” scolded her mother, the Marchioness of Rothward.

  “You are right, but how will I ever decide? Tonight is so important.”

  “Yes, I agree this night is important, but you are a comely young lady and you will do fine to pick any of these gowns. Now be reasonable.”

  “Oh mother, I am being reasonable.” Rachel held the green one up and examined it. “I have to make the right impression. I cannot abide another season unengaged!”

  “With your connections and title, I must confess that I believe you will be engaged soon enough.” Her mother was exasperated. “Hannah, prepare the green gown for this evening,” said the marchioness to the maid.

  “Mother, are you sure the green one is the right dress for me?”

  “Yes, the color complements your eyes very nicely. The matter is settled. You are wearing green to this event. Try to get some rest for tonight.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  The marchioness and the maid left Rachel to her own thoughts. She lay on the four-poster bed, the centerpiece of her room at her family’s London residence in Mayfair. She knew she needed to rest. That night, she would attend a ball. Not just any ordinary ball, but one given by the prince regent himself. She had to look her best this evening. Nearly every eligible bachelor in the peerage would be there. If she could catch the eye of just the right gentleman, then she could be engaged before the season ended. This was her fondest desire.

  Rachel had been presented at all the fashionable parties last season and was yet to be married or even engaged. She knew there was no dishonor in returning to London for a second season as an unmarried young lady, but to return a third or fourth was almost unheard of for someone of her rank. It would have been nearly scandalous. She felt scandalized by even entertaining the thought. Rachel sighed as she picked up a book from the nightstand and tried to concentrate on reading it. That was usually a good way to stop her from thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Two pages in, and she wondered if the choice of dress was a bad one, or possibly the worst ever. On page seven, she daydreamed about falling, sprawled out on the wooden floor, right as she walked into the ball, and the spectacle that would become. By page twelve, her dress had caught fire, and a gentleman was forced to put it out with a bowl full of punch. The ball would begin with her on the floor, dripping of negus, in entirely the wrong burnt dress. She just knew it to be true. Rachel threw the book across the room. She turned over in bed, closing her eyes, and trying to be in the moment and nowhere else. Eventually, she drifted off into unconsciousness.

  ***

  It seemed as though Rachel had only just fallen asleep when there was a light knocking at her door. She sat up in bed. “Come.”

  Hannah, her maid, had arrived. She was holding the emerald green ball gown. The gown was sewn of shimmering satin, with black bead work. It was an exquisite dress, and would remain so if Rachel could keep away from an open flame all evening. She agreed with her mother’s decision. No other young lady at the ball would have a dress of such rich hue or of such luxurious material. Hannah hung up the dress on the bed post and bid her lady to be seated at the vanity. In only an hour’s time, the maid finished styling Rachel’s dark brown tresses into a becoming up-do with shimmering, black onyx pins. Hannah dressed her mistress in the gown and stood back to admire her work.

  Rachel looked into the mirror. She could hardly believe her own reflection. The dress was dazzling and played up her curves. She looked so sophisticated in it. Every fear that kept her from sleeping had vanished. She felt like a different person, or maybe just the best version of herself. It was amazing what styled hair and the perfect dress could do. Tonight at the ball, Rachel would have to act and behave as the daughter of a marquess. It could be a daunting endeavor to represent her family well, and she would need every bit of this new confidence for it. This spectacular gown made her look and feel the part.

  Hannah placed a dark, velvet wrap around her mistress’ shoulders, then handed her a pair of long gloves. A knocking on the door reminded them that the marquess and marchioness were waiting out front in the carriage. Rachel stole one last look at her reflection and smiled. She was not a traditionally beautiful girl, but tonight in this gown, she felt like she might be the most eligible young lady in all of London.

  Chapter 2

  The marquess, marchioness and Lady Rachel arrived at Carlton House on schedule. The entrance to this grand, London residence was lit by thousands of candles. Footmen awaited the guests’ arrival. Rachel had never been to the prince regent’s private residence before this occasion. She was ecstatic and anxious all at the same time.

  Upon entering the grand hall, their names were announced. Rachel looked around, hoping to find anyone she recognized. She knew her nerves would settle down if she had a companion. It was moments like this that Rachel wished she had a sister who was out in society, instead of being an only child. As her parents circulated through the throngs of the wealthiest and most affluent members of the British aristocracy, she found a familiar face in the crowd. It was none other than her neighbor in Mayfair, the Lady Cordelia Fitzroy.

  Rachel was overjoyed the moment she saw her. Cordelia was not only her nearest neighbor, but also one of her closest friends.

  “Cordelia, how glad I am to see you here!”

  “I am equally pleased. I was afraid that I would spend all night bored with no one to talk to.”

  “I do not think that would have happened. A lass as comely as you would have her choice of suitors this evening.”

  “If I have my choice, I am unable to find them. Where are they?” Cordelia looked around.

  “Now you are being silly. I am certain you have more than one secret admirer present here.”

  “If only that were true. I long to meet the perfect gentleman and be married.”

  “It seems as though we share the same dream. Perhaps this evening will be magical, and we will find two noble gentlemen who will declare their undying love, and request our hands in matrimony!”

  Cordelia sighed. “Undying… That is asking a lot of a fellow these days. At this point, I would be thrilled to encounter unailing love, at least healthy enough to withstand a few years before he takes a mistress.”

  “You are very cynical tonight. Or very funny. I have not decided which.”

  “Perhaps they are too similar in nature. A cynic who cannot find humor in the world would go mad. Proper pessimism should greet you with a smile and leave you smiling too. But just because I have lost faith in men, does not mean I have lost faith in a go
od ball.”

  “You would be beyond all reason if you had.”

  “I agree. There is no cause to doubt dancing. So this is what we must do… Smile, smile, smile, and go meet gentlemen of substance. Then dance and smile some more.”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  “You are not smiling.”

  Rachel felt silly, smiling so much, but had to admit that it eased the tension she felt about attending the event. She and Cordelia made their way into the ballroom where they were much more likely to find potential suitors. They appeared as opposites, Rachel with her dark hair and green gown, and Cordelia in her pale, pink dress, with wispy, blond hair as her crown. Rachel easily stood out against a multitude of young ladies dressed in light colors. The decision to wear such a dark and daring color was quite bold. Her mother had given her sound advice after all. It was an audacious move, but fell short of scandalous, providing just the right balance.

  Rachel was unaware that the other ladies were staring at her with envy. She and Cordelia were far too enthralled in their conversation to notice. The women in the ballroom were not the only ones who saw the, boldly attired, Lady Rachel. Several gentlemen were also aware of her presence. As Rachel and Cordelia enjoyed the evening, hoping to attract admirers, a footman approached. He bowed before Rachel, and people around her became rather curious as to his intent. She was curious as well.

  “My lady, His Royal Highness requests an audience with you. If you would, please follow me.”

  “Yes, of course.” Rachel was less sure of her answer than she wanted to be.

  She glanced at Cordelia, who was a vision of silent wonderment. Both ladies were so surprised that they did not know how to react. The footman turned and Rachel followed him out of the ballroom, under the watchful eyes of many of the guests. She was so nervous that she thought she might faint. The prince regent requested her audience. She had never spoken to him and had no idea what there might be to say to a monarch.

  The footman lead Rachel through the great hall and into the most luxurious drawing room she had ever seen. It had an incredibly high ceiling, gigantic crystal chandeliers and marble floors. The furniture was gilded and sumptuous. As she entered the room, she was struck by the amount of people that were attending the prince. There were richly dressed courtiers, beautiful ladies, high ranking army officers, and servants filling all their champagne glasses. In the corner, there was a lady playing a golden, grand piano and singing songs with humorous lyrics. Everyone seemed to have a wonderful time, except for Rachel, who looked as though she might suddenly be taken ill. In the back of her mind, Cordelia was still telling her to smile, smile, smile, but she only tried it for a moment, deciding instead that the combination of frayed nerves and forced smiles would only do wonders for her if the goal was to look queer in the attic from the start.

  The footman approached the prince regent, bowed and announced the new guest. Rachel was the center of attention in a room full of the glamorous companions of the next king. She walked forward and curtsied. It wasn’t until then that she noticed that he was a large figure of a man up close and had hair that was graying. He took a long sip of champagne and stared at her. Rachel could feel her heart beating, even though she tried to be confident and brave. She was the daughter of a marquess and had to exhibit the poise of her position.

  “Why does she not have a glass of champagne?” said the prince regent as he looked to his servants to remedy the situation. Suddenly, someone appeared, carrying a golden tray with several glasses to choose from. Rachel selected one and took a sip. She, once again, stood in silence.

  “Well, are you only going to stand there, quiet as a stone, or will you speak?”

  “Your Royal Highness, you have my deepest gratitude for inviting my family to the ball.”

  “Well, there you have it. She is beautiful and well brought up too! Delightful!” said the prince regent as he finished his champagne. A servant replaced the empty glass with a full one.

  Rachel sipped her drink, waiting to see what would happen next. She prayed that no one would notice the slight tremble in her hand as she felt the inner circle of the prince regent’s glittering court all watching her. It was as if they expected her to perform or entertain them.

  “I am sure you are overcome with curiosity about why I had you summoned to my presence, are you not? Now don’t be coy,” said the prince as his companions giggled.

  “Yes, sir. I must admit a certain amount of curiosity.”

  “More words from you. A fine display! You speak well after all. Although you are quite a fetching lass, I dare say I thought you would be much more fun. You are so quiet and yet you have dressed in a manner that demands attention. Well, now you have it. I called you here because I have something very special that I would like to request of you.”

  Rachel tried to think of what it might be. What could the future King of England possibly want to ask of her? She took another sip of champagne and waited for the answer.

  “My dear young lady in the green gown, the favor I must ask of you is a simple one. If you would be so kind as to save a dance upon your card for my closest friend, the Count of Esterhaz?”

  As the prince regent introduced his friend, Rachel was sure it would be a man twice her age or more. She was surprised to discover that he was only a few years older than her. Lord Esterhaz bowed, and Rachel tried to curtsy while balancing her champagne glass. She could not help but notice that the young count was very handsome. He had sandy brown hair and gray eyes. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and features that were angular and fine. His demeanor was pleasantly aristocratic.

  “It would be an honor if you would grant me the pleasure of a dance this evening.” His English was good, yet the Austrian accent was unmistakable.

  “Yes, I would be delighted to dance with you.”

  “May I have your permission to escort you to the ballroom?”

  “You may.”

  Rachel had one more sip of champagne before a servant whisked the glass away. She took the count’s arm, realizing that the room no longer focused on her. The show had concluded. She must not have been that entertaining after all.

  ***

  In the great hall, it was a different story. All eyes were turned to her again. This time, she was being accompanied by a dashing, Austrian count. Rachel could feel the glare of all the young ladies as she walked past them. The man that was leading her to the ballroom was impeccably dressed and handsome in the cool manner of many aristocrats from the Continent. Lord Esterhaz exuded power and privilege. He seemed content to walk with her, and was disinterested in idle talk, responding only with curt answers.

  The lack of conversation did nothing to put Rachel at ease, but it was a happy misery. She had captured the attention of a count, and a great friend of the next King of England, no less. The only challenge was to keep him interested. But Rachel felt as if the situation was spiraling out of control, just like her daydreams did. If she could only marry such a man, that would be tremendous. As she walked by his side, she thought about what it might be like to be a countess. Of course, she would have to learn German and move to Austria. What a change that would be, to move to a place where she knew none of the customs or the fashions of the day. Still, it would be worth it, to finally be married.

  As Lady Rachel and Lord Esterhaz entered the ballroom, the musicians were just finishing the last notes of an Irish Air.

  “How fortunate. A new dance is just beginning,” said Rachel.

  “It is.” He led her to the head of the line.

  She knew many dances lasted over ten minutes, and could not imagine what she would do if he refused to say more than two words at a time.

  The music began. Rachel and the count stood out as the most beautiful couple dancing. She became self-consciously aware that people were staring at them and felt certain that they were whispering about her as well. She blushed at the thought.

  “You must be exhilarated from the dance,” he said with a smile. �
�There is a rosy complexion to your cheeks.”

  “Dancing is rather exciting.”

  “You look much better with some color to you. English ladies are always so pale. I fear you are more fragile than the ladies from my homeland.”

  Rachel did not know whether to be insulted or take that as a compliment. Perhaps it was muddled in translation. “I assure you, sir, we are quite strong. More so than what we may appear. Looks can be deceiving.”

  “So they can be.” He answered plainly, then said nothing for the rest of the dance.

  Rachel was concerned that she may have vexed him with her rebuttal. She finally gained the attention of a gentleman worth knowing and had ruined it already. A sigh escaped her lips as the sweet dream of life as the Countess of Esterhaz imploded. That was someone she would never be. The music stopped. Lord Esterhaz led her away from the dance floor. She prepared herself for the inevitable. This was the part where he would thank her for the wonderful time, and then politely withdraw from her company, never to be seen again.

  “Lady Rachel, I have thoroughly enjoyed the pleasure of your acquaintance. I thank you for allowing me the honor of dancing with you. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the drawing room for the moment.”

  Rachel was mortified. She had failed to keep the count interested in her for even one dance. It was clear that his thoughts had wandered off long before the instruments went silent.

  “It was my pleasure.” She curtsied.

  He bowed, came to attention and clicked his heels in the Austrian manner, then strode off the dance floor, leaving her there alone. She wanted to run out of the room, crying.

  ***

  Rachel had to remember who she was. She always had to remember. The daughter of a marquess did not cause a scene. So she took a deep breath and sought the company of Cordelia, instead. Her friend was dancing with a gray haired gentleman, and Rachel did not want to disturb them. She decided on a new plan and went looking for the punch. Some refreshment was in order.