Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  “They are deluding themselves. The chit will not be able to provide any child at all, let alone a healthy son.” Hollis downed his Scotch and ran one hand through his hair. His frustration mirrored Chance’s of a few months ago.

  Since then he’d come to terms with his fate.

  Since then, he’d also met Aubrey. He swallowed hard. Impossible.

  “Lady Hannah is to become my wife, Hol. I cannot have you speaking ill of her.”

  His only option had been to present himself at Prosser Heights, Marry the Earl of Beresford’s daughter, and come to terms with his altered future. In return for their silence regarding their son’s death and Adelaide’s behavior, Chance had been given the deadline of his thirtieth birthday. Not only did this protect Chance from making a one-way visit to the gallows, but it assured that Adelaide’s’ reputation would remain intact.

  Beresford would not besmirch his own family’s standing. By marrying the earl’s daughter, Chance became their own. And thusly, did Adelaide.

  Hollis refilled both of their glasses. Despite the fact that it was barely nine o’clock in the morning, they’d already consumed half the decanter. “Well then, let me be the first to wish you happy. And Happy Birthday as well. God forbid I find myself in your state when I turn thirty.” He lifted the glass in a mock toast. “May God help you and protect you and may your conscious allow you to take a mistress.”

  Chance groused but lifted his glass, nonetheless. He would not. It was too soon to think of being with any other woman than the one he’d walked out on just four days ago. He wondered when he would not close his eyes and see her face.

  “Damnit, Hollis, I don’t have a choice. I’d face the gallows, you know that, but Adelaide and my mother would suffer greatly. And Adelaide is not strong…”

  Just then the vicar appeared at the door, along with the Earl and Countess of Beresford. Behind them, a nurse pushed Lady Hannah in her chair.

  The girl, barely eight and ten, appeared little more than a child. Her thin brown hair had been braided and spun into a coronet atop her head, her scalp visible between the parts. Dull gray eyes set in a paper-white complexion lifted to meet his. She appeared terrified.

  This was not her fault, but the doing of her obstinate parents. He could never take out his dissatisfaction on this young woman.

  “Are we ready then?” The vicar made an attempt to signify the occasion with some sort of cheerfulness.

  Chance nodded and then turned toward his fiancé. “Lady Hannah?”

  She hesitated and then nodded as well.

  “Very good. Yes. Very good. Shall we begin then? Your Grace. If you would stand here, and the bride…” The vicar faltered.

  The nurse pushed Lady Hannah farther into the room so that her chair was placed directly beside Chance.

  “Very good, very good…” The vicar opened his prayer book and began.

  For a moment, Chance wondered what had happened to all of the air in the room. His cravat, damnit. It was practically strangling him.

  It was not the cravat.

  “I have not known love, Chance. I have never experienced physical satisfaction with a man. It is all I ask of you tonight. Just for tonight, won’t you love me?”

  She had been irresistible to him for most of their acquaintance. It had taken all the self-discipline that he could muster…

  “I will never hate you.”

  Since leaving her, her voice had whispered in his ear memories he’d never forget.

  “You will still find peace and joy in your life,” she’d surprised him by making such a statement. “Because of the magic of laughter that you carry in your heart.”

  “Magic, eh?” He’d laughed. When he’d been with her, he could almost believe it. “I think it is you who carries the magic, Princess.”

  “Do you Cochran Charles Bateman, Duke of Chauncey, take Lady Hannah Marie Ormond to be your lawfully wedded wife…”

  Aubrey would have felt great compassion for Lady Hannah.

  “I do,” he answered solemnly.

  Chance had done all he possibly could for Aubrey. She would be fine. She was strong, intelligent… beautiful. Visions of her naked skin, memories of her taste flooded his memory.

  “I do,” Lady Hannah’s anxious voice broke into his thoughts.

  He barely knew her, and yet she was to become his wife.

  “Do you have the rings?” The vicar asked. Chance turned and accepted the two gold bands Hollis held out to him. He glanced down, however, and realized he still wore the ring he and Aubrey had purchased together. As discreetly as possible, he removed it and slipped it onto his right hand.

  It would not be the thing to reach out his hand to his new bride, all the while wearing another woman’s ring upon his finger.

  Aubrey had believed in him and Chance had failed her. Miserably. Perhaps he could make some atonement with this poor girl. He’d take her to Secours, away from the pressures placed upon her by her parents. His young bride, his duchess, would benefit from his mother and Adelaide’s company. They would support her. It was doubtful the chit had ever known many friends. From his understanding, she’d been kept inside, away from other people, for all of her life.

  He would do his best to keep her comfortable. He’d let down the woman that he loved. He would make up for it some with his new bride.

  Chapter 16

  Chance

  Two Years and Two Weeks LATER

  “I can’t exactly walk up to her door. Hello, Princesse, remember me? So sorry I left without saying goodbye. I had to get married in order to avoid the gallows, but now I am quite free and quite alive. Oh, and by the way, I’m a duke.” Chance and Hollis had arrived three nights before and rather than go to the Chauncey Ducal townhouse on Curzon Street, they’d thought it best to take cover in Hollis’ uncle’s residence directly across the street from the Park, Hyde Park Place.

  Once word got out that Chance was in London it would be impossible for him to keep a low profile. He couldn’t allow Aubrey to learn his true identity from a stranger or, God help him, a broadsheet. He’d been rather well known before his marriage to Hannah.

  She was a smart young woman and could easily enough put two and two together if she were to learn that Chance Bateman, The Duke of Chauncy was in town, he might never be able to convince her of the truth.

  He needed to approach Aubrey carefully, he needed a strategy and the timing had to be perfect.

  “Why not show up at her door? The facts aren’t going to change. If she loves you, she’ll get over it.” There Hollis went again, oversimplifying the impossible. “She certainly can’t forgive you if you remain in hiding.”

  “I need to be certain she hasn’t attached herself to anyone. I need to see her first. I need to see…” Chance trailed off. See what? If she was happy? If she was as beautiful as he remembered? If his heart responded the same as it had all those years ago?

  But he already knew the answer to most of those questions. He knew he’d feel the same way. He just wasn’t ready. He needed to do this in his own time.

  “You’re a blasted fool, that’s what you are.” Hollis shook his head and then reached for his hat. “Be that as it may, Your Grace.” His old friend had a way of your gracing him so that he might as well have spat at Chance’s feet. “I have some visits to make of my own, so I’ll leave you to devise this very well thought out plan of yours.” He halted at the door, however and turned around. “I’ve known you a long time, my friend, and you’ve proven yourself to be an arrogant prick at times, but one thing I’d never thought I’d see was Chance Bateman resorting to cowardice.”

  Chance stared at the door long after it closed behind his pain in the ass friend.

  He wasn’t a coward, by God.

  * * *

  An hour later, wearing clothing he’d borrowed from the gardener, a cap pulled low over his face, Chance strolled casually to the street where Aubrey lived. He knew the house, of course, as he’d organized the frenzied renovatio
ns before she’d arrived, and so had no difficulty in locating it.

  He’d waited until rather late in the day but if she planned on driving in the park, he ought to get a glimpse of her. Pretending to weed a small garden a few houses down, Chance only glanced at his time piece some twenty or so times before spying activity at her front door.

  A barouche had pulled up—a damned fancy vehicle—likely owned by some dandy. Chance squatted low to the ground and watched as a tall gentleman wearing lace and heels, was assisted out of the vehicle by one of the outriders. Surely, Aubrey would not go driving with such a popinjay as this?

  Mr. Carrington, his own former butler, opened the door for the dandy and gestured him inside as though he was a common visitor.

  Chance rose and sidled across the street and then one house closer. When the door opened again, his breath caught in his throat.

  By God he had not imagined her beauty, her magic. Two years later and hiding like a common thief, he still felt all the impact he’d felt each time he looked at her before—only more so.

  She’d swept her hair up and the gown she wore appeared sophisticated, and as far as Chance could tell, of the latest fashion.

  The dandy placed a hand at her back, and she turned around to smile up at him.

  Chance would have preferred to take a blow to the gut but didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, until the barouche driver flicked the reigns and pulled the vehicle into the street.

  By then, Chance had stepped out into the walk. When he glanced sideways, he met Mr. Carrington’s eyes, who feigned a casual salute. Well hell. His disguise was perhaps not as effective as he’d thought.

  And yet, Chance could not be certain the dandy was anything more than a casual suitor.

  The next afternoon, he took his place once again, but she did not come out at all.

  The following morning, however, he was rewarded. In a lovely blue day dress that reminded him of the gown she’d worn on that last evening they’d shared together, she stepped outside alone.

  Only she was not alone. She held tight to the leading string and good old Mr. Dog waddled alongside her.

  And although he was happy that she was by herself, he was not pleased at all at the thought that she went galivanting through Mayfair unaccompanied. It was not as though her “son” was going to protect her if some footpads took it upon themselves to attack.

  Grumbling to himself, he followed at a distance. Her voice carried down the walk when she greeted a few of her neighbors: sweet, songlike. He almost stumbled at first, how many times had her imagined that same voice, calling out to him in dreams?

  She continued onward with a spring in her step, quite happy with herself and the day. It would seem, he surmised, that Hyde Park was her destination.

  Seeing her so carefree and full of sunshine gave Chance mixed feelings. Who was he to interrupt her idyllic life? After what he’d done to her, he’d be surprised if she deigned to speak with him.

  A gust of wind swept down the street, lifting his hat off his head and sending it tumbling along with a flying broadsheet. Torn between abandoning his chase and returning to Hollis’ House, he halted for only a moment. Surely, she couldn’t recognize him if he kept himself hidden?

  In the end, he was not quite ready to allow her out of his sight. He would simply be careful, keep his distance. This was easier once she turned into the park. He could get closer to her, with trees and bushes for cover.

  And she seemed quite intent upon Mr. Dog’s antics. The dog showed interest in nearly every bird he caught sight of, especially the ducks at the edge of the water. Occasionally he went so far as to let out a low bark and was quickly chastised by his mistress.

  From this closer proximity, Chance could appreciate the flush of her cheeks, and remember how her tender skin had felt when he’d dragged his tongue along the edge of her jaw. He’d kissed those lips, hell, he’d explored every secret in her pink little mouth.

  So caught up in his study of her, he failed to notice the elderly ladies walking along the path. “Your Grace! Yoo hoo! Chauncey? Is that you?”

  He’d been careless. Damn his eyes!

  Chance glanced around in search of somewhere to hide, if he could turn his back, cover his face, but the two ladies seemed quite intent upon not allowing him escape.

  “And there is Mrs. Bloomington!” Lady Zelda’s voice called out mercilessly.

  Chance had lost all control of the situation.

  “Hello!” Aubrey’s voice rang out. She’d not seen him yet as she approached the two ladies but Mr. Dog, the enthusiastic little traitor, strained on his leash to get to Chance.

  At this point Chance could choose to run if he wished, he could hide, but Hollis’ words taunted him. Chance was not a coward! He pulled his shoulders back, raised one hand to wave in Lady Longewood’s direction, and shuffled along the path to where Lady Zelda was conversing with Aubrey… who stared in his direction as though she was seeing a ghost.

  “What a lovely surprise,” Lady Zelda reached out a hand for Chance to bow over. She and Lady Longewood had been acquainted with his mother since childhood. “Martha. I had not heard Chauncey was in town, had you?” She glanced between Chance and Aubrey, “Of course, no introduction is necessary for the two of you. Oh, isn’t this delightful?”

  Aubrey looked as though she’d turned into an ice statue, her face white as a sheet while Mr. Dog jumped up on Chance’s legs.

  “My condolences, on the loss of your wife, Your Grace,” Lady Longewood wasn’t quite as effusive as her companion.

  Aubrey shook her head. “Chance? Did you call him Your Grace?” She glanced down at Mr. Dog, her gaze jumped back to Chance’s face. And again, “Mr. Bateman?” In those two words she managed to somehow inject all of her skepticism, pain, and disbelief he had ever caused her.

  Chance dropped to his haunches and rubbed Mr. Dog’s reddish brown coat, massaging the extra skin around the dog’s neck. He lifted his own eyes to meet hers. “Hello, Princesse.”

  Upon hearing the familiar endearment he’d called her, she snapped out of her stunned state.

  “Lancelot, come here,” she spoke harshly at the dog. The poor thing looked quite confused but did her bidding. Choosing to ignore Chance, Aubrey turned to the two elderly ladies who had created this debacle. “I’d love to chat but I’m in a dreadful hurry. I have… I’m late for an appointment. I’m so sorry…” She did not wait for a response, rather, but spun around and marched off in the direction from where she had come, dragging a reluctant and perplexed Mr. Dog behind her. But no, she’d called Mr. Dog, ‘Lancelot.’ In honor of his horse, Guinevere, perhaps? The thought gave him a smidgen of hope.

  Lady Zelda and Lady Longewood stared after her in surprise. “Well, I never! What’s the matter with her, do you think?” This from Lady Zelda.

  Lady Longewood had been a little more observant, however. “You are acquainted with Mrs. Bloomington, are you not?” She asked Chance. It was rather like being chastised by a rather formidable aunt. She frowned then, looking him up and down. “And why are you dressed in rags?”

  Only Chance didn’t have time to remain for their questions either. He needed to go after Aubrey. He needed to begin to explain. “Please, ladies. I’m not yet here in London officially,” he spoke from over his shoulder. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself? I’ll make a visit later and explain everything, but for now…” He waved and took off at a run before Aubrey could get too far.

  At first, he’d thought she was returning to her house, but she was nowhere to be seen in either direction along the sidewalk. Even walking briskly, she could not have gone so far as to be out of sight. Chance glanced to the left. She must have entered the path leading into the trees.

  He hadn’t intended to pursue her like this but found himself taking chase anyhow. He’d wanted to explain things to her in a calm manner, in a way that she would understand he was not the monster he seemed at the moment.

  Not only had his ide
ntity been exposed, but the fact that he’d been married. Despite the heat of the day, he broke into a cold sweat.

  Once he entered the thick trees, he paused, and swallowed hard. If he was not mistaken, the sounds coming from behind a rather large evergreen were sobs.

  He stepped off the path and gazed at her with conflicted emotions. Just seeing her, being so near, initially sent his heart soaring. But just as quickly, it splintered, and a moment later, crumbled into a million pieces.

  Gone was the carefree young lady who’d strolled happily toward the park just a few minutes before. He’d done this to her.

  Aubrey stood leaning against the trunk of a rather large oak, her shoulders shaking.

  “Aubrey,’” he spoke softly. He’d take her into his arms if only she’d let him. But of course, he could not. She would not. He was a stranger to her now. Worse than that, a bad memory from the past.

  Before he could say anything else, she’d whirled around. “Stay away from me!” Her voice broke and tears swam in her emerald eyes

  Chance didn’t move, afraid that she might bolt if he took another step in her direction. “I wanted to talk to you. I needed to tell you… things.”

  But she was shaking her head. “You are a duke? You did not think to tell me that? And you were married? Why are you here? Why did you come back, now?” Her obvious confusion and pain struck sharper than any sword. “Do you not know how hard it has been for me to forget you? Do you not realize how difficult it has been for me to move on with my life?” She raised one hand to swipe at the tears now streaming down her face.

  The hurt and confusion in her voice reminded him of the night he’d lost Mr. Dog. Only on this occasion, there was no relief at seeing him. Only accusations of betrayal.

  And pain.