Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

by Virginia Vice

  “What business does the Duchess have in our halls tonight?” Agatha snarled.

  “Normally I enjoy observing this bloody sense of ‘proper protocol’, Agatha, but I’m stuck in the rain and yer testing my patience, love,” the voice - clearly a man’s, husky and hoarse - growled through the door. “I’ll open the door meself if I have to.” Agatha grudgingly pulled the door open again, water splashing across Audrey’s face as she beheld a lengthy and ornate caravan, led by a trio of stunning snow-white horses. Paneled in white and silver, lanterns glowed softly on each corner; the cabin within looked nearly as big as the entirety of the coach Audrey had rode in on. Door swinging open, out stepped a woman in an elegant, expensive white gown; it glittered in the low glow of the lamps. The woman wrapped within cursed quietly as she staggered through the rain in her daggered heels, seeking refuge in the manse’s foyer. Audrey stifled a giggle as the beautiful heeled woman nearly makes the same mistake she had, her heels squeaking on the wet tiles as she struggled to balance herself.

  “Presenting yer royalness, the Duchess Francine, and all that,” the woman’s surly and sleazy valet announces. A whisper of a man in a black suit with greasy black hair and skin pale as a ghost’s, his snakelike features bowed in sarcastic deference as the young woman made her presence known in the foyer, all glam and gala. Head held high, with hair of flowing blonde and eyes like sapphires, she carried an annoyed and haughty expression.

  “What can we do for you this evening, Francine?” Agatha sighed, bringing contempt to the surface of the young woman in the fancy dress.

  “You dare address me as such? Bryce hasn’t slapped any sense into you?” she sneered. Captivated by the woman, Audrey looked at her flowing dress and impeccable beauty with amazement... which inevitably drew the angry stare of the duchess. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “She’s the new maidservant,” Aunt Bette interjected, not taking any lip from the woman.

  “And who are you to address me? You’re all fortunate I’ve a patience for Bryce’s antics, or else I’d have you made a fool of,” the duchess snarled. Audrey cast her glance away meekly, but the duchess hadn’t finished with the innocent young girl.

  “You know what Bryce does with the maidservants, don’t you?” the duchess laughed haughtily. Fearful, Audrey glanced for help from Agatha, who proved herself as much a verbal presence as a physical one in protecting girls in her charge.

  “Audrey is new here, and she’s not used to your attitude, duchess. You’ll have to phrase your question more appropriately,” Agatha sighed, irritated by the rude woman who called herself royalty.

  “I’ll rephrase my question as a statement,” Francine seethed. “The Duke is an important man. He has no time to play games with maids and common street folk. Do you understand? Spend your nights in the maid’s chambers,” Francine scowled. “Now. Ladies. I have business to attend to. Where is Bryce?”

  “He’s not here,” Agatha shrugged. “Lordly business, too important for us street folk. Certainly, you understand,” she added facetiously. Her face blushing and her expression livid, Francine huffed and spin out the door, her scummy valet following her with a clatter of the door.

  “Lovely company you get around here,” Aunt Bette said jokingly.

  “Poor poor Francine. Her rich husband, the Duke of Northshire, dies, and in her heartbreak she inherits his estate and his title. But one title’s never enough for a girl, is it,” Agatha facetiously lamented. “Such a sad tale.”

  “Sad,” Aunt Bette echoed tersely.

  “Her word has merit, though. Audrey,” Agatha nodded.

  “R... right,” her voice wobbled. “Off limits. Off limits.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and she couldn’t truly deny her curiosity.

  A man so off-limits, wanted by so many... what could he possibly be like?

  Chapter 3

  Audrey mentally checked off each of the tasks Agatha had assigned her. Her first day had gone exceptionally well, having woken invigorated with the smell of morning dew and the feel of fresh sunlight streaming through the windows. The maid’s quarters proved comfortable and spacious – more so even than her room at the cramped home she shared with her aunt and uncle. After Aunt Bette had disembarked for the trip back to London, work began quickly - and after a round of skeptical criticism from Ana, whose jealousy had begun to bleed freely, Agatha set her about cleaning the top floor of the impressive manor.

  Thankfully, Audrey’s jobs had been quite easy. Few ventured as far as the fourth floor, and aside from polishing and sweeping for gathered dust, the halls needed little scrubbing. A grand trophy room held armor, weapons, antlers and spoils claimed from centuries of hunting England’s moors, and fighting her wars; the room appeared as if it hadn’t been touched in years, with layers of dust and cobwebs caking centuries-old shields and swords and glass display cases. Bookshelves carried thick tomes in the library, their spines so coated in dust one could scarcely make out the names; reading armchairs stuffed with goose-down would have been quite luxury years past, before dirt and wear caked the faded upholstery.

  Audrey cleaned each room thoroughly and attentively; hours she’d spent, until hunger pangs began eating at her stomach. Dusting away the last table in the dust-choked and unused study, she heard Agatha’s booming voice cry up the stairwell towards her.

  “Audrey! The cooks have prepared tea and food for us, come downstairs, love!” she called. So distracted by her work, it took Audrey a moment to parse the words; staggering out into the hall, she took her first breath of dust-free air in quite a few hours.

  “I’ll be down in just a few moments! I have something to finish up here,” she replied.

  “Hurry yourself, then! Tea’s going to get cold,” Agatha said with a smile. Audrey smiled and nodded, before hustling back down the narrow, faintly-lit hallway towards the last door at the end of the corridor. The door handle rattled, locked up tight; Audrey smirked, pulling a small hairpin from the apron across her stomach. Agatha had asked for Audrey to clean the entire fourth floor, yes?

  With a few quick-fingered twists of the lock mechanism, the hairpin clicked quietly as it jostled the door unlocked. Taking a deep breath, canny young Audrey slowly pulled open the door to a room filled with even more dust than the last, cobwebs strung thick across the doorway. She took a breath and immediately coughed, expelling mildew-thick air from her lungs. White sheets, turned grey from years of dingy dirt buildup, laid across rows and rows of stacked furniture; tables, chairs stacked one on top of the other; cabinets full of dusty china porcelain. Audrey swallowed hard; she had a feeling she shouldn’t be in here, but the mystery of her employee intrigued her, and curiosity always did end up getting the better of the adventurous young maid.

  Audrey still had not met her new master - or even so much as seen him. She thought him perhaps a ghost, haunting the darkest part of the halls; or perhaps a fairytale prince. She had dismissed the thought just as quick. Wealthy, powerful, and influential - Audrey had an inkling of the reality of most dukes and lords. Fat, selfish, greedy, crude - and lustful, just as her aunt and Agatha had warned her. Still her heart throbbed contentiously when she stepped through the disused door, wondering if her mysterious benefactor lurked here, buried beneath furniture, sheets and dust.

  Hazy daylight filtered through translucent white curtains, the windows behind them dingy with smears of dirty age. Taking a deep breath, Audrey pushed between cramped pathways carved through the chamber, its wooden floor scratched and scored. Her footfalls left impressions deep in the dust, telling any who wished to ask that a nosy young chambermaid had traipsed her way into the mildewy confines of the locked room.

  “Audrey! Come downstairs!” Agatha’s voice echoed. So entranced by the strange locked room was Audrey that she called back half-heartedly, distracted by a stack of colorful, floral-patterned round boxes ahead.

  “I’ll be down in a moment, Ms. Agatha,” her voice trailed, full of an enraptured malaise. Stepping
sprightly over piles of boxes, she wove through the mess of dust and dirt and stuffy cabinets until she reached the circular boxes. She popped the top from one of them, coughing as waves of dust kicked up into her face. After the spell faded, she hurriedly dug into the contents, buried under layers of crumpled tissue.

  Audrey could scarcely contain her elated surprise; stuffed away were layers of small drawings, paintings - and on top, most surprisingly, were some of those expensive new photographs, realistic drawings made by extravagant inventors using little boxes, which may well have been magic, as far as Audrey was concerned. She had heard whispers of them from the drunken travelers and Parisians who wandered into her aunt and uncle’s inn, but had never seen them before. Devices to capture and create these sorts of things would dwarf any amount of money she could hope to make in her life. Yet in these boxes lay piles of them - pictures of family, friends, by a lake front; amid the hills, with the regal estate in the distance. Audrey traced her fingers in shock along the images, stunned by how real they all looked - and how much it must’ve cost to hire someone to take them. She shuffled through the lot of them, hoping quietly in her heart to find some idea of the kind of man she worked for - her curiosity got the best of her, and with each photo she sorted through, she wondered if perhaps the face of these men - some cheery, some brooding; some handsome and young, some old and fetid - represented the visage of her employer.

  “They’re fascinating, aren’t they?” A voice from behind startled Audrey, shocking a quiet and meek chirp from her lips; she let loose a handful of the images, tossing them precariously back into the box before her. She swallowed hard, terror cold in her every vein, frozen like a cat caught disobeying its master.

  “You shouldn’t be in here, you know.” She felt the warmth emanating from the words; a man’s voice, a deep voice thrumming low and deep and enticing. She couldn’t speak at first, though the words bubbled slowly and incomprehensibly to her throat.

  “I-I-I’m so... please, let me apologize, I—” a hand fell firm onto her shoulder, and she felt a strength pulling her backward. Spun on her heels, Audrey swallowed hard, her eyes wide when they fell upon the man whose voice rumbled in a sultry baritone through her ears.

  “You must be the new maid that Agatha hired, yes?” he spoke so smoothly, so confidently; he knew every word he wanted to say. He knew how the world moved; he moved it himself. Tall and strong, clad in a custom-tailored suit stylish enough to dazzle Audrey’s mouth wide open, she couldn’t get over how... gorgeous, he was. Truly gorgeous. She had expected a slovenly, greedy and indulgent man, and instead her eyes fall upon young, powerful man with a chiseled jaw, rakish honey-blonde hair, a confident smirk and beaming baby-blue eyes, with skin a deep shade of glowering bronze. Virile stubble dotted his chin and cheeks, though he didn’t wear a beard, as Audrey had become so accustomed to seeing on men back in the city. She stood frozen in shock, and wonderment; she’d never seen a man quite like this, and it took the breath straight from her lungs.

  “Do you know how you speak?” he chuckled. “I’m certain you’ve figured by now that I’m your employer - yes? Lord Bryce Parris, Duke of McClellan,” he imparted with a regal charm. He leaned in to kiss Audrey’s hand and her heart throbbed, nearly right from within in her chest, the lump in her throat too big to swallow.

  “I-I’m sorr... sorry,” Audrey struggled, unsure whether she ought to be more afraid or stunned by the gorgeous man.

  “Which part are you sorry for? Being unable to speak? Or perhaps about breaking and entering this particular room?” he smirked. “Or perhaps you’re sorry for gawking so shamelessly and impertinently at me, Miss Fisher?” he purred. Audrey blinked.

  “I’m s... sorry, for... how did you know my name?” she stammered.

  “Audrey Fisher. Do you think I allow just anyone to wander freely onto my estate, Ms. Fisher?” he retorted with brimming confidence. “Agatha told me all about you. I had to ensure you weren’t a spy embedded by any of my rivals, yes?” Audrey blinked.

  “A sp-spy? Do you think I’m—”

  “Perhaps you are,” Lord Parris smirked, his hand gently rubbing Audrey’s shoulder. She all at once became aware of the sensation of his palm on her dress and her body shuddered at the warmth. “That’d be quite exciting, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’m... I’m not a s... spy, or... I’m sorry, y-your highness,” she murmured.

  “Your highness? I’m not the king,” he laughed. “I could certainly be your king, though. If you wanted it,” he commented brashly, and while Audrey’s cheeks burst bright-red at the impropriety, something about it felt so inviting; so enticing. She steadied herself, remembering what Aunt Bette had said. She’d said it would be like his.

  “L... Lord Parris, I apologize, for entering the room, for...”

  “Perhaps you are a spy, hmm? You managed to pry that locked door open. Not a skill too many maidservants have, I’d assume. I’m watching you,” he whispered hotly into her ear, and he was - so shamelessly, he was. Audrey quivered like a leaf in the wind under the gorgeous man’s skewering gaze, his eyes so enticed by her every inch. She gulped, feeling so improper, but so right, at the same time.

  “I w... worked for my aunt, at an inn, and our lodgers would often leave doors locked, or lock themselves out, or...” Audrey tried to explain herself, but her heart beat too hard for her to speak.

  “I’m teasing, of course, Ms. Fisher. A blushing beauty like you would be the worst spy ever. Or perhaps the best,” he chuckled, honeyed, into her ear.

  “There you are! Lord Parris, and—” Agatha stood in the doorway, her expression contorted in dismay. “...Ms. Audrey, together. In this room.”

  “Your new maidservant has quite a few mystery talents, and a curious mind,” Lord Parris purred. “I like her.” Audrey swallowed hard, squirming in her slippers. He liked her? She didn’t know what to make of that, but it felt... nice.

  “I’m certain you do, but it’s time for tea and an afternoon rest, so let’s go, yes, Audrey?” Agatha spoke sternly. “Meet me downstairs. Now, please,” she said, with the boisterous insistence of a school teacher.

  “It sounds like you’re in trouble,” Lord Parris smirked playfully to Audrey.

  “I didn’t mean...” her voice trailed off into a hesitant sigh.

  “Don’t worry about Agatha. You should be worried about me, and the spanking I ought to give you,” he hummed so hot and so tense that Audrey’s body shook and her voice quivered loose a weak, uncontrolled moan. He strolled out of the room, head held high, chuckling quietly to himself, and Audrey nearly melted into the floorboards from how hot his words sizzled in the air.

  “Remember what Aunt Bette told you,” Audrey said quietly to herself, trying to still her nerves.

  Things may have gotten quite difficult.

  Chapter 4

  “Audrey, didn’t Agatha assign you to clean the cupboards upstairs? Near the Duke’s bedroom?” Ana’s voice sung a stinging and rude refrain, her expression rough and haughty. Barging through the kitchen door, she startled Audrey with her loud voice; Audrey’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped and shattered her glass across the tile floor below.

  “I-I’m sorry, what?” Audrey stammered. Ana rolled her eyes.

  “The cupboards, on the third floor. With the china. Did you forget to do all of Agatha’s assigned tasks? Where did you learn to do housework?” Ana scornfully replied. Audrey shrunk, buried under a mound of spite.

  “Ana, I want to ask you something,” Audrey said, a glint of meek defiance in her eye. “What did I do to upset you so?”

  “What? I’m not upset,” Ana snarled, clearly upset.

  “You seem to be,” Audrey retorted.

  “What do I have to be upset about? I’m working for one of the richest, most handsome men in all of England,” Ana scoffed haughtily. “I’m assistant to the senior steward of the house. If Agatha moves on, or stops working, or passes, I’ll be in a position to secure my relationshi
p with the duke,” Ana snidely commented. Audrey lofted a brow.

  “Secure your... relationship?” the young redhead queried. Ana laughed.

  “It’s not completely obvious to you? It ought to be,” Ana smirked arrogantly. “The Duke and I are connected. Closely,” she said smugly. Audrey, for once, didn’t feel like the most deluded or naive person in the room.

  “Ana,” she said quietly, “you... has Ms. Agatha told you about... the Duke? About the things... the things he does?”

  “What things he does?” Ana replied smugly. “Certainly, you haven’t let the prude protestants get into your ear, have you?” she sneered.

  “The Duke is not... well, he’s a man who likes to take certain liberties with his staff,” Audrey said, repeating the same words her aunt had used, with the same wary sense of stilted, awkward caution. “Besides. He’s a nobleman! We’re nothing even close to nobility. Not like the duchess.”

  “The duchess is just a distraction!” Ana roared, clattering a tray of dishes onto the counter with defiant anger in her voice. “She’s the one that... that Lord Parris takes to the balls. He told me how he really feels about me,” Ana murmured smugly. Audrey looked away, pensive. Maybe Ana was right, she pondered.

  “I... I have to get back to cleaning the rest of these dishes,” Audrey’s voice quivered. Ana seemed satisfied with Audrey’s deferential attitude, and began to unload her tray of dishes, overwhelming Audrey as she scrubbed each quicker than the last, until she began to sweat from overwork.

  “Where did you learn to clean dishes? These are still covered in grease!” Ana erupted, pointing out smudged spots on the gleaming china porcelain. Audrey sighed.

  “Ana, please,” she murmured. “I’m trying as best I can. Don’t tell Ms. Agatha - or Lord Parris, please.”

  “You needn’t worry. We can keep it between ourselves. Just keep your hands to yourself, yes?” Ana snidely threatened.