Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  “Here you go, Mister and thank you! Do you mind if I watch?’ The blonde little urchin climbed atop one of the stalls and looked on eagerly. “Your horse is big. Bigger than normal horses. And I know that she’s a girl. I’m not ignorant, you know. Gosh, I saw the strangest thing behind the inn; this dog, a lady was carrying it. She said it was asleep even though his eyes was open and his tongue hanging out.” The boy made a face, sticking his tongue out and lolling his head to the side. “And the dog was a he, for certain. I know that too. Like I said, I’m not ignorant. But this lady, she was real pretty mind you. And she smelled like flowers. I’ll bet she’s a nob, that’s what I’ll bet. And—”

  “Hold up.” Chance interrupted the boy’s monologue. “You say you saw a lady, with a dog. Was he red, and had short legs?”

  “You saw him too?” The kid’s grin took up half of his face.

  Chance swallowed hard and tossed the brush toward the kid. “You’ve done this before?” And at his nod, “Do your best! I’ll return shortly. Stay right here though, don’t take your eyes off of her.”

  “Okay Mister! You can count on me!” But Chance barely heard the boys high pitched and excited response because he was already halfway around the back of the inn.

  The sight that met his eyes could not be real.

  Holding a leading string, Aubrey followed Lancelot as he meandered in circles around a small patch of grass. Chance halted and just stood there, staring at her. Wondering if he’d finally lost all semblance of his sanity.

  The setting sun caught the lights in her hair, making it glow, and the breeze was just strong enough that her dress clung to her feminine curves, reminding him of secrets he’d done his best to forget.

  Chance didn’t move an inch, he just stood there, watching her as she cajoled the pup to do his business. Why was she here?

  It was Lancelot who noticed him first. In one motion, he jerked the leading sting out of his mistress’ hand and bounded toward Chance, ears flopping alongside his head and his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  “Hey there, Old boy.” Crouching, Chance allowed the dog to lick his chin and ears for a moment but didn’t take his eyes off of his Princesse.

  She froze, her shock mirroring his own from a moment before. “Chance?” One hand flew to cover her mouth. The green vibrance of her eyes sparkled.

  “Why are you here? Is Cline with you?” Hell and damnation, he’d never stopped to ask her exactly where Cline’s estate was. God must have one hell of a sense of humor if the happy couple was traveling the same route.

  She shook her head though. “No. No. I’m alone. Except for my maid, Kelly, and Mr. Daniels as well as an outrider, of course.” She blinked several times in a row and then tipped her head to the side. “I came looking for you. I need to ask you something.”

  Chance felt his heart lurch, but he’d felt optimistic too many times already, merely to have his hopes shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He gestured toward some crates where they could sit down, and then dragged Lancelot along with him.

  In the end, however, Chance couldn’t bring himself to sit. He needed to protect himself, protect his emotions. He’d already lost this war, or so he had thought. He wasn’t sure how many times he could relive it.

  Aubrey sat primly, hands in her lap, and looked up at him. “Do you…” She licked her lips. “Have you fallen out of love with me?”

  What the…?

  Chance frowned. “Why on earth would you think that? I’ve done nothing but try to show you, try to prove to you, that I’ll love you forever. How can you doubt me still?” His heart wanted to sing but the rest of him was angry with her. Angry that she had not been able to learn to trust him again.

  “I went to Chauncey house.” Her eyes begged his understanding as she spoke. “I went to tell you that I’d made my decision, that I wanted to make a life with you… that I loved you––only you. There wasn’t any choice really, Chance. Ever. It was always you. I just needed to gather my courage again. But when I did, you were gone. And it was my fault this time… I’d waited too long… You had every right to leave without saying goodbye.”

  The brothel. The night spent at Hyde Park Place and his infernal wandering. He stepped forward and dropped onto one knee, not caring that his breeches would be stained and that he might be kneeling in shite. “Listen to me. Princesse.”

  She nodded and clasped his hands between hers.

  “I didn’t leave London until yesterday. My valet and my luggage coach left for Secours ahead of me––without me. When I was finishing up work on the hothouse, Cline proudly informed me that you had consented to go with him. But still, I waited. I’d never leave you again without saying goodbye, I’ve learned my lesson well, Princesse. I just now checked in to this inn. You arrived here before me. Do you understand?”

  At last she was listening to him and it seemed that every wall she’d had up had finally crumbled. She raised his hands to her mouth and placed a kiss on one of his knuckles. “I thought I’d waited too long… I thought I’d lost you forever.” In her eyes, he believed he saw all of the love and vulnerability that he’d felt since he’d returned to London to beg her forgiveness.

  Chance frowned. “Just tell me one thing. Why are you here, at this inn, today?” He had an inkling, but he needed to hear the reason from her own lips.

  “I was coming after you. I was on my way to Secours, to beg, to wallow, whatever it would take to make up for my… distrust… this summer. I’m sorry I waited so long. I just… but then when I thought you’d left, everything became crystal clear. You’re my love. You’re my life.”

  Chance could hardly believe his ears. “You rejected Dandy Dick?”

  “My dear Mr. Bateman.” She smiled and placed one hand along his cheek and jaw. “I could never have married him. From the moment I saw you in the park, I only ever thought of you. It was not well done of me. I ought to have told him right away. I was just so afraid. But I know now that none of it was ever your fault. You couldn’t have done anything any differently. If you had, you would not be the man that you are.”

  A tear escaped past her lashes and slid along the curve of her cheek before dropping onto his hand.

  “How did you know that I was here?” Her eyes flew open wide as the thought struck her.

  “Purely fate, my love. And luck, and fortune, or whatever it was that brought us together in the first place. My heart stopped beating when I believed you’d decided to be with another man. I was dead inside. I thought I’d failed to earn back your trust. I was simply on my way back home, to lick my wounds.”

  “She was right.” Aubrey’s voice broke as Chance lifted both of his hands to cradle her face.

  “Who was right, my love?”

  “The fortune teller who read our tea leaves. She told me I would have my love for a short time, but that I would then go without... In the end, however, she said I would be with my love again. We had that one night and then I went a long time without knowing where you had gone, what you had done, and whether or not you even lived. In the end, however, she said I’d have all that I wanted. You do forgive me, don’t you? For doubting you?”

  “I do.” She was here, in his arms and Chance couldn’t hold back a second longer. He captured her lips with his. “I do.” Whispers of endearment floated in the air. It seemed that both of them were putting all the tenderness and love that they could into this single kiss.

  “You will marry me, my love?” He could still hardly believe she was real.

  But she felt real. She tasted real. And the words he heard could not be mistaken.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Bateman. Yes!”

  Epilogue

  Aubrey

  The next morning

  Aubrey stretched contentedly and then snuggled deeper into the mattress. The memory of passion and tenderness and unmatched intimacy floated through her mind.

  It had not been a dream. When she had gone to his town house a few days ago and been informed that His Grace ha
d departed for his country estate, she’d feared that she’d lost him forever.

  And she could not.

  She could not lose him again.

  A most satisfied smile stretched her lips wide.

  It had been he who had found her! When he’d come sauntering around to the back of the inn, hair slightly askew, blue eyes blazing, it was as though the universe had opened up to reveal her chance to embrace that which fate had promised all along.

  He loved her. They were to be married. He had made love to her in the most glorious fashion throughout much of the night.

  Her smile stretched even wider. And she had made love to him as well. She’d touched him intimately. She’d taken him into her mouth and performed the most wicked acts.

  Without opening her eyes, she reached out to touch him.

  Perhaps she could do so again this morning.

  Her hand failed to locate the warmth that she sought and instead landed on cool bed linens

  She reached farther and then opened her eyes in alarm. Fear tore into her heart and she wondered if she would ever breathe again.

  The blighter was gone! This was not happening.

  Sun streamed through the windows into the room. Into the very empty room.

  She would kill him. She would chase him to the ends of the earth and then strangle him with her very own hands. She threw back the bedclothes and unheeding her nakedness, ran to the window to stare down at the yard.

  “I believe you are wearing my favorite garment this morning, Princesse.”

  Her heart nearly dropped into her feet when she spun around to catch the cockiest of dukes closing the chamber door behind him, looking quite satisfied with himself.

  He was fully dressed and carried a tray laden with, from what she could tell by the aromas that entered with him, all sorts of breakfast delicacies.

  Her heart returned to it’s normal place but she had to force herself to breathe deeply before it could beat regularly again.

  “I had thought… The bed was empty… You were gone…” And then she burst into tears.

  In the flash of an instant, warm, strong arms wound around her protectively enfolding her into the safety of his masculine frame.

  “Mon amour. Mon coeur. Plus jamais. Jamais. Oh, ma Princesse.”

  Never again, he promised. She nodded into his chest. “I trust your love for me. I do. Its just that I am so happy and I thought…” She gulped, overwhelmed in the moment.

  “I know. Oh, my love. My purpose, for the rest of my life, is to make certain you are never sad again. Not if I can help it. We are destined to be together and I won’t allow anything to separate us ever. Remember, my heart? It is fate. Madam Nadya promised. We endured our time apart and now are together again. Forever.”

  Aubrey blinked the tears out of her eyes and pulled back to stare up at him. “Forever.”

  He lowered his lips and sealed the promise with the most tender, the most loving, aching, devoted of all kisses, leaving Aubrey’s knees feeling like jelly and her heart filled with more love than she could have imagined.

  When their lips parted in a sigh, Aubrey was surprised to see Chance blinking hard. One lone tear escaped to trail down his tanned cheek and disappear into the shadow of his morning stubble.

  Aubrey touched the corner of his eye.

  “You forgive me?” The words came emerged from him along with a choking sound. “I’m so––”

  But Aubrey stopped him with another kiss. A soft one that was meant to absolve him of this forever.

  “There is nothing to forgive. Just as you said. We were fulfilling destiny.”

  She watched his throat move, as though he’d swallowed hard. In a thousand years, she would never have imagined the happiness she knew in this man’s arms. His gaze shifted to study each of her eyes, and then he exhaled and seemed to dismiss the sadness for both of them.

  “And we have so much destiny to fulfill.” That smile of his emerged slowly. That smile that she’d seen for the first time when he’d caught her watching him from the window. It promised something wonderful and possibly something slightly scandalous and she could hardly wait to hear what he had planned for the day.

  “I had brought you something to eat but I find myself tempted by the sweet morsel in my arms instead.”

  “I’m starving.” She didn’t move though. Because she would always be starving for him and yet the scent of delicious culinary delights intrigued her taste buds. Perhaps she could find a way to incorporate her enjoyment of both…?

  “Eat up Princesse.” His arms remained around her as well. “For we’ve a long journey ahead.”

  “Together.” She nodded. “We will go to your home?”

  “Yes.” His smile grew. “But first go north––to Gretna Green. Are you up for another adventure?”

  It was exactly what she wanted. To become Mrs. Chance Bateman, for real this time.

  “An adventure?” She raised her brows. “Always.” Because life with Chance Bateman would never be boring. This man made everything into an adventure; food, a simple outing, a horseback ride––even the planting of a flower.

  And love.

  She lowered her hands to unfasten the buttons on his falls.

  She wouldn’t’ have it any other way.

  *** The End ***

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  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Cocky Duke, my Historical take of Vi Keeland’s and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It was so much fun to write and since I’ve finished, I cannot help but contemplate writing a story for Hollis, and naming it The Hyde Park Playboy…

  But until then…

  I’ve written quite a few other historical romances, and I hope you’re ready to check some of them out. For your enjoyment, I’m including the first chapter of one of my favorites… The Perfect Debutante.

  I love to take modern day issues and drop them into Regency Era London. For this particular one, I tackled a subject that, although it seems modern, is not.

  Thank you again for reading my words!

  Love,

  Annabelle

  Read on for Chapter One of

  The Perfect Debutante

  An unspeakable topic

  I feel it my responsibility to issue a trigger warning for this story.

  I never wanted to know so much about the very alarming practice known as cutting. When you discover somebody near and dear to you, however, suffering from an addiction, you absolutely must learn as much about it as possible.

  It is often misunderstood, mimicked, and criticized, but I’ve learned that for those who are truly compelled into self-harm, they cannot control it any more than an alcoholic or overeater.

  Even more alarming, the more a cutter dwells on it, the greater the compulsion.

  For that reason, I find it necessary to recommend that anyone with cutting compulsions NOT read THE PERFECT DEBUTANTE.

  I’ve done my best to write an accurate depiction of a young woman who struggles with cutting and the most realistic means she has to overcome it. Although cutting has been referred to by different names throughout history, the compulsion is nothing new.

  Know that cutters rarely are suicidal and most leave off the practice in their twenties.

  I am not a psychologist, nor an expert in any way. THE PERFECT DEBUTANTE has been written based solely upon my own personally conducted interviews, research, and experience.

  And so, I give you…

  The Perfect Debutante

  Chapter One

  Miss Louella Rose Redfield huddled on the floor on the far side of the large canopied bed taking up most of her chamber. If her mother took it
upon herself to peek in, she would believe the room to be empty and leave.

  Which was exactly what Louella wanted—what she needed.

  It wasn’t as though she were a child! She was a lady now. She had every right to be left alone. She glanced toward the closed door.

  Mama would not come now anyhow. Mama and Papa knew she was not at all pleased with them. Not after Papa had told her his decision and given her no choice but to consent to the betrothal he’d arranged for her with their neighbor’s son.

  And they expected her to be grateful! Of all things!

  Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. The hopelessness of this situation made her want to be invisible. Black crept into the edges of her vision.

  How could her parents so easily dismiss her older sister Olivia? They couldn’t realize the cruelty of their actions. For this slight seemed worse than all the others. To betroth the younger daughter first.

  Her.

  Cowering behind the bed, Louella opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and reverently withdrew the sewing basket.

  The tattered straw and old cloth lining provided a modicum of comfort, in and of itself.

  Her father’s words replayed in her head. “You are the beauty of this family, Louella. A perfect English Rose. This is your duty. And your mother assures me the marquess is quite handsome. You’ll be a duchess someday, gel. Now stop your blathering.” He’d meant to placate her.

  A beauty! Perfect?

  Louella knew what they saw.

  A young girl with an unblemished complexion, shining chestnut hair, and eyes the color of the sky, framed with thick lashes.

  But that was only her shell.

  She was not perfect; she was not beautiful.

  Dizziness gripped her.