Miss Honeyfield and the Dark Duke: A Regency Romance Novel

by Audrey Ashwood

  He took a deep breath, a movement that set his body in motion in a way that was both indecent and beautiful. “I had no choice but to force you to meet with me again. As unusual as you were, I could not be sure that you would disregard the strict rules of society.” He looked straight at her.

  “I do not know what I would have done, if you had just suggested another meeting,” she admitted. Minerva looked over to the window, through which bright rays of sunshine fell onto the carpet. Her fingers felt stiff from being intertwined. “I assume that you asked your friend for help in the meantime, and he agreed to assist you together with his daughter.” She fell silent and thought about what she had just said, but the duke interrupted her thoughts.

  “Do you think of me as someone who would carelessly risk the life of a young lady?”

  “Unless you tell me otherwise – and tell me the truth – I have no other choice,” she replied desperately. “I truly want to believe that you have done these things for good, even honourable reasons, but how can I?” She looked around, searching for something she could occupy her nervous hands with, but found nothing. His right hand reached out and he covered her cold fingers with his own. “How can I take this for anything other than a long-planned and cold-blooded mission? Surely you did not reassure yourself of the Duke of Evesham’s support just a few days ago. And what does Lady Annabell say to all this? Have the two of you actually thought about introducing the lady into your plans at all?”

  For the first time in days, an honest smile lit up the face of the man who was holding her hand. “Truthfully, all of this was actually Lady Annabell’s idea,” he said and nodded when he saw the disbelief on Minerva’s face. “She is a very adventurous young woman, and she has a great deal of imagination. I am very fond of her, as one would be fond of a younger sister.” Minerva tried very hard not to blush, because she would never have asked the question so openly. “You will like her, I am certain of it.”

  “And the Duke of Evesham has no concern that you would put his daughter in danger?” Minerva found it hard to believe. Secretly, she debated whether she should feel sorry for the noble young woman, or if she should envy her, concerning her seemingly neglectful parents. She was overcome with a warm feeling towards her own parents, who worried about her future all the time. There were so many things she had not considered. She had been too quick with her judgement and had overlooked that there was always another point of view.

  “My good friend, the Duke of Evesham, has no other choice. Once Annabell sets her mind on something, it is almost impossible, even for an overly loving father, to dissuade her.” He laughed, and Minerva joined him. It was a precious moment of feeling carefree that brought them closer together. This was also in the literal sense, as she noticed. Their heads had turned towards each other, so close that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. “Minerva,” he whispered her name, and his lips brushed hers so tenderly, so fleetingly that she would never have thought it possible. His eyes gleamed golden and feverishly, and her cheeks glowed in the heat. With obvious reluctance, he slowly pulled back from Minerva, but he still held her hand. It was difficult to think straight now, but she managed to remember the last point of their conversation – before his touch had nearly erased everything else.

  “So, it was Lady Annabell’s idea to play this dangerous game, and she not only convinced her father, but you also. What was it that made you agree?”

  He tilted his head to the side. Once again, Minerva wished that he had not cut his beautiful, long hair so radically, regardless of the current fashion. She had liked his long hair. Even now, she longed to let her hand run through those untamed locks of his. “Do you know that I was gone from here for a year?” She nodded, but refrained from telling him that people had started the wildest rumours. Even though she anticipated that the duke knew about them, she did not want to interrupt the story’s flow. “Well, when I returned, I did so with the intention of finding a new wife and of returning Beaufort to its position as a true home again. I did not keep those plans to myself, and the results were disturbing. At first, I noticed only little things. I felt watched. It was as if someone was lurking in the shadows, just waiting for the right moment to strike. There was an attempt on my life, a rather pitiful attempt actually, that I could easily fend off. However, the second attempt took the life of one of my servants. That was not something I was willing to accept quietly.”

  Minerva remembered her aunt’s warning to keep away from the Duke of Scuffold. She, too, had mentioned a death, but wrongfully assigned the cause to the duke. “So, you know who is trying to kill you, and you have decided to lure this person into a trap. For that you needed bait.”

  “I swear that I would never have placed you, or Lady Annabell, in any kind of danger. As soon as you entered the stage, or better, the playing field, it seemed the perfect opportunity to spend some time with you. You were never in any danger, since everyone believed that Lady Carlisle would be my future wife. When their arrival was delayed, the damage had already been done. Everyone, including your mother, believed that there was something blossoming between you and I, and they expected me to declare myself. All I could do was try to protect you, but without your noticing. I will never forgive myself for not thinking that your mother would end up becoming the target of a murderer.”

  “She was not,” Minerva declared. “I believe it was accidental.” She closed her eyes for a second. She remembered the small piece of paper that she had found by her mother’s bedside. “Everybody who attended our dinner, heard about my love of sweets,” she said slowly, while trying to make sense of the many details inside her head. “It must have been easy for them to smuggle a box with confectionary, or something similar, into my room, hoping I would assume that it was a gift from you. All I can think of is that my mother saw the little box and was unable to resist. She was very fortunate to be found in time.”

  “I am not relieved,” he declared with a dark voice.

  “You do remember what you have asked me twice, don’t you?” she asked. The duke nodded. Minerva took a deep breath. “You wanted to know how brave I am.” She looked straight at him and tried to put all of her conflicting emotions into her eyes. “I am brave enough to assist you in your search for your wife’s murderer.” He wanted to say something, but Minerva audaciously laid her finger on his lips. “Now, I would like to ask you the very same question. Do you have enough courage to trust me?”

  “It is not a question of courage,” he objected. “I cannot knowingly put you in danger. This would go against everything I deem good and right.”

  “Not even if my help is the only way we can capture the person who murdered your wife?”

  His face froze and it was wiped of any emotion.

  Minerva had not wanted to be deliberately cruel, but she knew that this was the only way that she could convince him to let her play a new role in the dangerous game that they had started together. Only then would the man, for whom she felt more than she could ever put into words, face his own ruthless truth.

  Chapter 18

  Her feelings were swaying like a sleek boat that had lost its course during the storm of the century.

  At that one moment, Minerva had been so certain that she had managed to convince the duke, that she, in fact, had meant the little word “we”. We will make this work, she had thought, only to realise a moment later that he was looking at her with dark, gleaming eyes.

  “I will not allow it, Miss Honeyfield,” he said and got up from his chair. “I had hoped that the knowledge of the danger you have so recklessly gotten yourself into would make you wise. Your mother has already fallen victim to an attack that was meant for you.”

  He paused, and his face lost all expression, which told her that he was unwilling to discuss this matter with her any further. It took only two heartbeats before she saw the anger that lurked behind his emotionless façade and that manifested itself in his tense shoulders and the glare of his icy eyes. “I shall await Doctor Springfi
eld’s report. Should he assure me that your mother is well enough to travel the short distance to the Buckleys without endangering her well-being, you will leave Beaufort Castle immediately.”

  “And what happens if my mother still isn’t well enough to travel?”

  He smiled at her in a way that looked more as if he was baring his teeth. “In that case, I shall ask your aunt to come and help and to – should it be necessary – lock you in your room.”

  “You are not serious about this,” Minerva protested.

  “Do not test me,” he challenged her. “And now, I will accompany you back to your room. You can have your meal there or in your mother’s room. You will not eat a bite of anything that Johnson does not serve you, personally. You remember Johnson?”

  “How could I forget him,” Minerva muttered, partially stubborn and partially intimidated. The duke did not acknowledge her reply, but instead gave her a curt nod and asked her to follow him. Reluctantly, she did, trying to keep up with his fast pace. Minerva could very well imagine that he might simply grab her and drag her to her room, if she did not comply with his orders – hence her stumbling after him in a rather unladylike fashion. Just as they turned into the hallway leading to her room, Doctor Springfield stepped out of her mother’s room.

  One look at his face was sufficient for Minerva to release a sigh of relief. Nobody with bad news looked as he did right now.

  “Doctor Springfield,” the duke greeted him. “How is the patient?”

  “She is doing rather well, your Grace,” the doctor replied with a respectful bow, before he turned towards Minerva. “Your mother will need a lot of rest over the next few weeks. I have already informed Sister Mary Magdalene about the correct treatment plan and nutrition schedule.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Minerva replied.

  “Is Mrs Honeyfield well enough to travel a short distance in a carriage?” the duke asked. “Obviously, I will see to it that she is not put under any additional strain.”

  The doctor shook his grey head regretfully. “I would strongly advise against that, your Grace. At her age, it is best to exercise the utmost caution, particularly since the overall condition of the patient isn’t as I would like it to be. She…” He glanced at Minerva and swallowed whatever words he had meant to say about her mother. Minerva stepped up next to the duke and looked up at him. Behind his deep frown, thoughts seemed to be racing across his face.

  “She will have to depend on your hospitality for at least one more week, if not two,” the doctor finished his report; seeming to sense the duke’s mounting discomfort, he quickly said his goodbyes and hurried away.

  Minerva pushed past the duke and knocked on the door. Before she entered the room, she turned around to him once more.

  “I shall spend the next two hours with my mother. Therefore, I will be safe, your Grace. Do what you must, and do not let me keep you from whatever it is that you need to do.”

  But he would not let her get away that easily. He closed the door that she had already slightly opened and straightened himself up to his full height in front of her.

  “Promise me that you will not do anything stupid,” he demanded with a slightly muted voice.

  “To what, exactly, are you referring?” Never before had she noticed just how provocative a blink of his eyes could be. For a short moment, she thought to memorise this gesture for Marianne de Lacey’s next encounter with her duke, however, it seemed that she had crossed a line with her real-life opponent. With tightly pressed lips he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her, not exactly gentle, closer to him.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” he whispered. She pushed out her chin defiantly. Was he meaning to kiss her? The moment of indecisiveness passed, and he let her go, without kissing her. “Go to your mother. I expect to see you in exactly two hours. Should I not find you in your own quarters, I will not hesitate to remove you from your mother’s room, myself, regardless of the state your mother might be in. One more thing – stay away from my brother.”

  She cast him a last puzzled look as she closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  Aunt Catherine arrived so quickly, that the speed of her arrival astounded Minerva. She wondered whether her relative had come as a chaperone for her, or to keep her recovering mother company. Either way, she was happy to see her. Minerva also wondered if her father would take it upon himself to travel all the way to Beaufort Hall. She had no doubt that her aunt had already informed him about his wife’s sudden illness. Would her father put aside his businesses to rush to her mother’s bedside and to look after his daughter? Minerva did not think so, but she could not be certain. If her father could actually bring himself to leave London, then she had around two days left before he would arrive and restrict her movements even more than the arrival of her aunt had already done.

  Her mother slept most of the time, or she dozed on and off, which was a good sign, according to Sister Mary. “The body needs time to heal from the strenuous effort of fighting off the illness,” she explained calmly and with such authority that even Aunt Catherine seemed a little bit intimidated. The sister and the doctor both avoided calling her mother’s state anything other than an illness. Had the Duke of Scuffold instructed them to keep the true cause a secret? As much as Minerva appreciated it, and since her mother was on the road to recovery, she was becoming impatient, as she urgently wanted to ask her mother about the events leading up to her falling ill. What had she eaten? Had someone mixed the poison in with her drink?

  Added to her worry about her mother, Minerva was struggling with her feelings for the duke. Her contradictory emotions concerning this imperious, arrogant, and yet attractive man, caused all kinds of physical emotions, which were just as conflicting as he was, and Minerva felt everything from a light tingling on her skin, to a burning rage, as well as an unknown yearning that burned inside her tightened chest.

  When she lay down in her bed and tried to get comfortable, she felt as if she were wearing a second corset made up of feelings, which sometimes made her feel claustrophobic and at other times light and free. Whilst she was tossing and turning with these thoughts rolling around in her mind, her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  It was already dark when she awoke. Someone, most likely Sally, had lit up a candle that sat on a small table right next to a tray. Underneath the metal cloche she discovered an already cold dinner, which she listlessly pushed aside. Instead, she took some of the cheese and bread that the cook had sent up as a precautionary measure. A small bowl with sweetly scented pudding looked tempting, but after a moment’s hesitation she pushed it aside. She padded over to the door and tried to open it.

  It was locked.

  The duke had been true to his word, and he had actually locked her in her room. Enraged beyond all measure, she ran over to the bell and rang it so furiously that she feared she would break the wide band on which she pulled. When Sally finally arrived to her room, she was unable to open it from the outside. It was completely locked shut!

  “Please wait, Miss,” Sally called through the closed door. “I will go and ask in the kitchen if there is a second key. I will be right back!”

  It only took a few minutes, before Minerva heard the sound of a key turning in her lock, and her maid entered the room. She kept her anger at bay. After all, it was not Sally’s fault that the duke had locked her in.

  She asked Sally to bring her some fresh water, so she could have a nice bath. To her surprise, the warm water was actually scented, and the young woman carried in two big white towels, across her arm. With every stroke of the damp cloth on her skin, Minerva felt not only her tiredness vanish, but also the quiet desperation she had felt. When she had finished, she felt... not exactly like new, but certainly very refreshed.

  “Who gave you the key, Sally? Has anybody said anything about me being locked in?” The red head of the young woman, who was busy cleaning the bathtub, shot up. Green eyes found her blue ones. “O
f course, Miss,” Sally replied. “The duke ‘as ordered ‘is chamberlain to only ‘and me the key when I bring you breakfast.”

  He had thought about everything, and he had even ensured that no one, other than her maid, would be able to come to her room. Feverishly she tried to discern how much she could confide in the young woman about her mother’s “illness”, however Sally surprised her – once again.

  “‘as ‘is Lordship locked you up…” she determined, “… for your own protection?”

  “That is what he would like everyone to believe,” Minerva confirmed. “Are you aware of what my mother is suffering from?”

  The red lips pulled up into a mocking smile.

  “I might not be as educated as the sister next door, but I am not deaf. If someone who is less than a few feet away from me, mentions the word arsenic, then I can very well imagine what must ‘ave ‘appened to your poor mama.”

  Relieved, Minerva sank back onto her bed. “Have you spoken about this to anyone? Maybe in the kitchen?”

  “No, Miss,” Sally replied and busied herself to remove the keys and the towels from Minerva’s view. “It’s not my place to do so.”

  “Sally, stop with the theatrics,” Minerva said. “We both know that you do not really care about that.” Sally tilted her head to her side and looked at Minerva attentively. “I advise you not to speak about this to anyone. Should someone ask you what my mother is suffering from, you will simply answer that you do not know.” Her eyes burned with authority and she emphasised it as much as she could. “Arsenic means poison, and poison means that we do not know who did it… it could have been anybody.” She gestured to Sally to stop with her nervous puttering about. “Now, would you please brush my hair? I would like to lie down. I assume that Aunt Catherine is with my mother?”