Reforming the Duke: A Regency Romance (Regency Matchmakers Book 2)

by Laura Beers

  “My mother doesn’t need a companion,” he declared with a wave of his hand. “You are dismissed.”

  “Perhaps you should speak to her before dismissing me.”

  He stood there, glaring at her. “You will not dictate my actions.”

  Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from the doorway. “Good heavens, Edmund! You are going to scare the poor girl.”

  Amelia turned and saw a tall, matronly woman with fading brown hair. She walked determinedly into the room wearing a puce muslin gown.

  “Mother.” The duke flicked his wrist towards her. “This young woman is under the impression you have hired her to be your companion.”

  “That is correct,” the duchess replied. “I have been telling you for some time that I need a companion, so I decided to hire one myself.”

  “But what are her qualifications?” the duke growled.

  “You need not concern yourself with those trifling details,” the duchess replied. “I can assure you that Miss Blackmore is wholly qualified to be my companion.”

  The duke scoffed. “I suppose she can stay, but only on a trial basis.”

  The duchess’s eyes met Amelia’s, and they crinkled at the edges. “That sounds more than reasonable. Don’t you agree, Miss Blackmore?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Amelia replied as she dipped into a curtsy.

  “Come along, then,” the duchess instructed encouragingly. “You must hurry if you want to dress for dinner.”

  “Miss Blackmore will be joining us for dinner?” the duke repeated in surprise.

  The duchess stared blankly back at him. “But of course. Where else would she eat?” She placed a hand gently on Amelia’s arm and started leading her out of the room. Once they were in the hall, she dropped her hand and whispered, “It is best to leave my son when he is a little unsettled.”

  “He doesn’t seem keen on me joining you for dinner,” Amelia remarked, glancing over her shoulder to see the duke still glaring at her.

  “He will come around,” the duchess assured her. “Besides, how else are you going to become acquainted with him?”

  “You make an excellent point, Your Grace.”

  The duchess placed her hand on the iron banister as they started walking up the stairs. “I would prefer it if you called me Ellen.”

  “I would be honored to, but only if you call me Amelia.”

  Ellen glanced over at her and smiled. “I couldn’t help but notice you brought a lady’s maid with you.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Companions generally come from families that have fallen upon hard times that have forced them to seek employment,” Ellen explained with amusement in her tone. “That being said, I doubt my son will even notice that your lady’s maid is here to attend to you.”

  The duchess came to a stop outside of a door. “This is your chamber.” She pointed to a door further down the hall. “You are right next to mine.”

  “That is wonderful news.”

  “I have ordered you a bath and the servants should be bringing up the water shortly.”

  Touched by her thoughtfulness, Amelia remarked, “That was very kind of you.”

  “Enjoy your soak, and I shall come and retrieve you for dinner,” Ellen said as she started walking away.

  As she watched the duchess’s retreating figure, Amelia couldn’t believe how vastly different she and the duke were. She didn’t have any more time to dwell on it, because she saw the servants walking down the hall with buckets of water.

  “Why hasn’t the nurse arrived yet?” Edmund demanded.

  His valet extended him a white waistcoat. “I am not sure, Your Grace. I will speak to Mrs. Harris about it at once.”

  “And why wasn’t I notified that a companion was arriving today for my mother?” he asked as he put the waistcoat on.

  “I cannot answer that,” Bartlett replied.

  Edmund glowered as he buttoned up the waistcoat. He did not like surprises, especially when it made him look like a fool in front of his mother’s new companion. A very beautiful companion. He had been rendered speechless when he walked into the entry hall and saw her for the first time. Miss Blackmore had high cheekbones, a straight mouth with full lips, and bright eyes that spoke of a sharp intellect. Her brown hair was neatly coifed, and she had olive skin that contrasted perfectly with her green eyes. How could someone as lovely as her become a mere companion, he wondered. It was unfathomable to him.

  Bartlett handed him a black jacket. “Would you like me to tie your cravat this evening?”

  “I will do it.” Edmund shrugged his jacket over his broad shoulders and walked over to the large mirror. “What do you make of my mother’s new companion?”

  “I cannot say. I only saw her for a moment as she exited the coach.”

  As Edmund tied his cravat, he confessed, “Quite frankly, I am glad that she was not the nurse that I had hired.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She seems much too headstrong to be a nurse.” Edmund dropped his hands and stood back.

  Bartlett picked up a clothing brush and approached him. “In what way?” he asked as he started brushing down his sleeves.

  “She initially defied me when I dismissed her.”

  His valet’s hand stilled. “She did?”

  “I do worry that this young woman will take advantage of my mother’s generosity,” Edmund mused. “There is something about her that I find unnerving.”

  Taking a step back, Bartlett placed the clothing brush on the table. “I did find it unusual that she brought a lady’s maid with her.”

  “That seems rather odd.”

  The valet nodded. “I met Leah downstairs,” he revealed. “She is agreeable enough and didn’t attempt to overly tax the staff with Miss Blackmore’s requests.”

  Edmund had to admit that he knew very little about female companions, but he had enough sense to know that they didn’t usually have a lady’s maid in tow. He would have to discuss with his mother how much she had agreed to pay her companion. Most likely, it was far too generous.

  He adjusted the gold cuff links on his shirt and headed towards the door. As he placed his hand on the handle, he looked back. “If you hear anything in the servant’s quarters about Miss Blackmore, I wish to be kept informed.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Bartlett responded with a tip of his head.

  Edmund departed his room and headed towards the drawing room. As he stepped onto the last step of the great staircase, he heard his mother’s laughter drifting out into the entry hall. His steps faltered at that noise. He hadn’t heard his mother laugh so freely since before Alice had died.

  What had she found so amusing?

  Increasing his stride, he approached the door and peered in. He saw his mother conversing with Miss Blackmore and they both appeared to be in a jovial mood.

  Edmund knew it was not proper to eavesdrop, so he quickly went to make his presence known. “Ladies,” he said, walking further into the room.

  Miss Blackmore dipped into a curtsy as she murmured, “Your Grace.”

  Edmund tipped his head in acknowledgement before he went and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Did you have a good rest?”

  His mother smiled. “I did,” she replied. “You have missed the most charming conversation. Miss Blackmore has been regaling me with stories from her youth. She was quite the rapscallion.”

  Edmund frowned, not even bothering to feign interest. He did not care to have his curiosity piqued by this woman or anyone else.

  Fortunately, Morton stepped into the room and announced that dinner was served.

  Edmund offered his arm to his mother and escorted her into the dining room. He stood at the head of the table and waited for the ladies to be situated before he took his seat.

  The first course was served, and a footman placed a bowl of turtle soup in front of him. He had just taken a sip when Miss Blackmore spoke up, directing her comments towards him.

&n
bsp; “Harrowden Hall is magnificent, Your Grace,” she declared in a cheery voice. “I have never been in a country house as grand as this.”

  Edmund stared at her for a moment before continuing to eat his soup. He wasn’t in the mood to engage in polite conversation with his mother’s companion.

  Not deterred by his reaction, Miss Blackmore remarked, “I cannot wait to tour the gardens. I can only imagine how exquisite they are.”

  “I shall have to take you on a tour of the secret garden,” his mother said. “It has curving herbaceous borders, serpentine paths and is full of agapanthus, tulips, peonies, and yellow wallflowers this time of year.”

  Miss Blackmore’s face lit up. “Why is it called a secret garden?”

  “You shall have to discover that for yourself,” his mother replied. “But the garden is situated behind a gate and has an old chapel that dates back to the 1200s.”

  “I can’t wait to explore the chapel,” Miss Blackmore announced.

  “I urge you to be cautious when you visit the chapel,” Edmund warned. “I fear that it isn’t structurally sound anymore.”

  Miss Blackmore put her spoon down with the slightest clatter and dabbed the napkin to her lips before saying, “You need not worry. When I was younger, my sisters and I found great joy in touring ruins, and we always used the utmost caution.”

  “Frankly, I am surprised your parents granted you permission to do so,” Edmund commented.

  She smiled ruefully. “After my sister hurt her arm, we were strictly forbidden from touring any ruins, including the ones near our country home,” she shared. “But I may have disobeyed my parents a time or two after that.”

  “Do you often break the rules, Miss Blackmore?” he asked, placing his spoon down.

  “As I have gotten older, I have learned that rules are made to be broken.”

  Edmund scoffed, growing more irritable by the moment. “Rules are essential for a society to be managed efficiently. If you remove the rules, then chaos will ensue.”

  “I have no intention of breaking any laws,” Miss Blackmore said with amusement in her tone. “I just find the rules that dictate polite society to be rather restrictive.”

  “And I argue that rules are enacted for us to be a polite society.”

  Miss Blackmore leaned to the side as a footman retrieved her bowl. “I am well aware of how I am supposed to behave in public, but I should be free to live my own life in private.”

  “You are a radical thinker, I see,” he mocked in a tone that was anything but complimentary.

  “I would prefer the term ‘progressive’.”

  He met her gaze and said in a stern voice, “You will find that we abide by strict rules at Harrowden Hall, and you are no exception. If you are unable or unwilling to do so, then you are free to leave.”

  “Edmund,” his mother gasped, “you are being rude to Miss Blackmore.”

  “No, it is quite all right,” Miss Blackmore said with a shake of her head. “I appreciate His Grace’s candor. I must admit it is refreshing to hear a gentleman speak his mind.”

  “You do?” he questioned.

  Miss Blackmore smiled at him. “While I am residing under your roof, I will follow your rules.”

  Edmund took a moment to study her as he attempted to gauge her sincerity. She appeared genuine enough, but he would still be mindful to keep a watchful eye on her.

  A footman placed a plate of mutton in front of him, and he waited until the ladies were served before picking up his fork.

  He had just taken his first bite of the meat when Miss Blackmore asked, “Do you enjoy riding, Your Grace?”

  Why was Miss Blackmore talking incessantly? Couldn’t she see that he just wanted to eat his dinner in peace and not be bogged down by a myriad of questions?

  Knowing that she was still waiting for a response, he muttered, “I do.” If he kept his answers short, she might just take the hint that her questions were unappreciated.

  “I can only imagine there are an exorbitant number of trails to ride on around Harrowden Hall,” Miss Blackmore said as she continued to jabber on.

  His mother interjected, “Do you enjoy riding?”

  Miss Blackmore’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “I daresay that riding is my favorite pastime.”

  “Then you must make use of the horses in our stable while you are here,” his mother encouraged.

  “Thank you,” Miss Blackmore gushed. “That is very kind of you.”

  Gratefully, Miss Blackmore started eating her dinner, allowing silence to descend over the table. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

  Miss Blackmore placed her fork down and asked, “Are you a lover of books, Your Grace?”

  Edmund shoved back his chair and rose. “I’m afraid I have had enough conversation for one evening,” he announced. “If you will excuse me, I will be in my study, and I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  As he exited the dining room, he mumbled under his breath, “Vexing, insufferable woman.” He would be mindful to avoid eating dinner with the chattering Miss Blackmore again.

  Edmund stepped into his study, slamming the door behind him. With a bit of luck, maybe he could convince his mother to dismiss her new companion.

  3

  “Absolutely not!” his mother exclaimed as she sat at her dressing table. “I will not terminate Amelia’s employment because she has the nerve to try to engage you in a conversation over dinner.”

  “She chats incessantly!”

  “I find her charming.”

  “And I find her maddening.”

  His mother cast him a frustrated look. “She hasn’t even been at Harrowden Hall for a full day,” she replied. “You need to give the poor girl a chance.”

  Edmund jabbed a hand through his brown hair. “Why do I need to give her a chance?” he asked. “She isn’t my companion.”

  “But she is mine, and I won’t dismiss her for no reason.”

  “She is vexing,” he argued.

  “Some might argue that you are vexing, as well.” His mother’s gaze grew determined. “You must promise me that you won’t dismiss Miss Blackmore.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Because she is my companion, and I should be the one to decide if she is a good fit for me.”

  Edmund wanted to say no, but he knew he couldn’t defy his mother. After all, her request wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “I suppose I can agree to that.”

  “Thank you, son.”

  He walked over to the yellow settee and dropped onto it. “Why do you even need a companion, mother?”

  “Sometimes, I find myself lonely.”

  “You have an entire household to run,” he pointed out.

  “There is only so much that I can do, and I tire of being alone.”

  “Then seek me out.”

  With a knowing look, she replied, “I hardly see you during the day. You are always so busy with your meetings and writing correspondences in your study. I know what an enormous responsibility you have overseeing all your properties and managing the duchy.”

  “That may be true, but I would make time for you.”

  “I don’t believe that to be the case.”

  Edmund winced at her words, knowing there was some truth to them. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  His mother rose from her chair and came to sit down next to him. “I love you, son, but you have managed to keep yourself so busy these past few years that I hardly recognize the man that you have become.”

  He reared back slightly, stunned by his mother’s allegation. “I am the same person.”

  “Are you?”

  “I am.”

  “I haven’t seen you smile once since Alice died.”

  Edmund huffed. “I daresay I stopped smiling the day I married her.”

  “You were happy in the beginning.”

  “I suppose we were,” he reluctantly admitted. “But that all changed when she showed who she truly was.”

  “S
he made a mistake, Edmund.”

  Jumping up from his chair, he challenged, “I won’t let you defend her. She was a horrible, vile person, and I will never forgive her for what she did!”

  His mother’s eyes held pity as she watched him. “She still is the mother of your child, and that is something that will never change.”

  “That is not my child, and we both know it,” he declared in a hushed voice.

  “I am not entirely convinced of that,” she challenged, “and if you would just spend time with Sybil—”

  He cut her off. “I will not!”

  “But she has the most beautiful blue eyes…”

  “I don’t care to speak about Sybil,” he declared, his tone brooking no argument.

  “You never do.”

  “And with good reason.”

  His mother pressed her lips together as she watched him, and he could see the disapproval on her features. But he cared not! He refused to feel the slightest bit of guilt for neglecting Sybil. Alice had died, leaving behind her child for him to raise.

  Feeling a sudden need to defend himself, he said, “I have ensured that Sybil is cared for, and I have personally selected each nurse for her.”

  “Yes, and promptly fired them for the silliest infractions.”

  “They didn’t follow the rules.”

  “Some of your rules are a bit ridiculous.”

  Edmund stepped to the window and stared out. The sun, rising slowly, cast a golden glow over his lands. “They are in place for Sybil’s protection.”

  “Why exactly can’t the nurse take Sybil for a walk after nine in the morning?”

  “You know why,” he replied. “The sun is much too high in the sky and could blemish her complexion.”

  “I see,” she murmured. “And why can’t Sybil play near the stream in the red garden?”

  Edmund turned back to face his mother, his face slack. “Because she could fall in and drown.”

  His mother sighed. “Sybil is five years old. It is time for her to venture out of the nursery on more than one occasion.”

  “She is given two walks a day.”

  “That is hardly what I mean,” Ellen said. “Sybil needs to be free to explore her surroundings.”