Charming the Runaway Duke: A Sweet Regency Romance

by Maggie Dallen

  Royce could not argue that. He couldn’t even be annoyed. He felt a smile of his own trying to break free at the thought of the pixie—no, not the pixie—Lady Amelia with her quick wit and her laughing eyes.

  Oh, but the whole world lit with vibrant radiance when she smiled, when she teased, when she… mocked the duke.

  His smile fell flat as that final conversation came back to him. In the moment, he’d been so stunned he’d only half registered what she was saying. She’d been so worried she’d offended him but it wasn’t offense that had struck him dumb. It had been shock.

  But now… he ran a hand over his face and scrubbed as if that could undo these last few moments. As if he could erase from his mind all that she had said… all that she had not said.

  Oh but his fiancée was sharp. Clever. She’d made her meaning clear even without saying a single word against the duke’s character.

  His character.

  But her light words could not belie the hurt he’d seen there, the bitterness and the anger that she managed to hide so well.

  But not well enough.

  Anyone else might have been fooled, but he’d seen it. He’d heard it. He’d felt her pain and her humiliation like it was his own. His groan of self-hatred threatened to rattle the doors of the carriage.

  “Buck up,” Alec said, roughly kicking Royce’s foot where it lay between them. “You act as though that was an unmitigated disaster.”

  Royce’s hands dropped. “Was it not?”

  Alec shrugged. He shrugged! But then again, Alec had not heard all that she’d said. He hadn’t seen the pain that lay deep in her eyes—the aching wound that he had caused.

  “I could imagine worse,” Alec said.

  “What? How?” Royce sputtered.

  “You could have been correct,” Alec said simply.

  It took Royce a moment to register his friend’s words, but once he did, the truth of it settled like a weight. What might have been was far worse, indeed.

  “Miss Grayson seems like a lovely lady,” Alec started.

  “Indeed, I am sure she will make some gentleman very happy one day,” Royce agreed readily.

  “But I did not see you looking at her the way you did Lady Amelia,” Alec finished, stating the obvious.

  Hope did a funny thing just then. It rose up so fast, so fierce, it eliminated every other emotion in its path.

  She was his!

  The truth of it finally settled in now that he was no longer stewing in the mire of regret and shame. She was his! The little minx who’d stolen his heart with a smile and a laugh was not off-limits. She was not some temptation he had to forego. She was the one he was destined to be with. The lady who would share his life, his home…his bed.

  Joy swept through him and left him dizzy. “She is to be my bride.”

  Alec gave a grunt that was half amusement half exasperation. “Glad you are keeping up.”

  Royce couldn’t even bring himself to shoot his friend a glare at his teasing. He was awfully dim-witted today. But then…maybe that was what love did to a man. It turned him stupid.

  Straightening in his seat, he felt his pulse surge with excitement at his good luck—or perhaps it was a blessing from above. “I think…that is…” His mouth went dry as he tried to put this feeling into words. “I think I may be falling in love with my wife.”

  Alec snorted with amusement again, but his expression was still droll. “She is not your wife yet, my friend.”

  “But she will be—”

  “If she does not kill you first,” Alec agreed.

  Some of that soaring hope threatened to fall at the reminder of just how badly he had botched things. “I should never have stayed away so long.”

  “No, likely not,” Alec agreed, though his oldest friend’s tone lacked any condemnation. That was one of the best parts of their friendship. They were both flawed deeply, so neither was in any position to pass judgment.

  “I cannot turn back time,” he said, his tone plaintive as he silently asked for some guidance on how to make this right. “I’d thought…I mean, I had assumed that she was happy.”

  Alec’s gaze was unreadable as Royce attempted to justify his bad behavior.

  “I thought she’d be happy in her family home, with her friends.” He stiffened defensively even though Alec had yet to even respond, let alone accuse him of anything. “She was betrothed to a duke, after all. I thought that would give her good standing, bragging rights…” His voice trailed off with shame.

  After a long silence, Alec said, “Did you think that?”

  It was said mildly, without accusation, and yet Royce knew his friend well enough to know what he meant by that. Some of his defensiveness faded as his shoulders sank. “I did,” he said quietly. “When I deigned to think of her at all.”

  Alec’s expression was placid. His point had been made and they both knew it.

  They sat in silence for the remainder of the carriage ride as Royce stewed with regret and pondered how on earth he could begin to make this right. “She will hate me when she learns the truth,” he said finally, breaking the silence to state what they both knew to be true. Alec did not insult him by arguing the point.

  As it was not in Royce’s constitution to dwell in pessimism, he straightened once more as they approached Alec’s home. “I can make this right.”

  His friend nodded. “I have no doubt.” With a wicked smirk, he added, “After all you’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her.”

  Royce let out a huff of amusement. “That is true. But I want…I’d like…” He cleared his throat. “I want her to feel for me the way that I feel for her.”

  Alec watched him with narrowed, skeptical eyes. “Are you so very sure this is love?”

  Royce did not have to think. His heart knew the answer even if his mind could not begin to explain it. “Yes.”

  One corner of Alec’s mouth twitched up. “Then you are lucky, indeed.”

  Royce’s expression brightened. “I am lucky, aren’t I? To fall in love with my own fiancée.”

  Alec grunted his acknowledgment.

  “It would be better, though, if…you know.”

  Alec arched his brows. “If the lady you loved did not hate you in return?”

  Royce nodded with a sigh. “Exactly.”

  They sat in silence for a moment as they both pondered his unique situation.

  “What will you do?” Alec finally asked.

  Royce’s mind was filled with thoughts of her sweet smile, her twinkling eyes, her delightful laughter, the perfect connection that seemed to link them from the moment he’d walked in the door. He slammed a palm against the seat as the decision came to him in with a hopeful jolt. “Easy. I shall make her fall in love with me in return.”

  Chapter 7

  Madeline’s voice cut through the silence as they awaited the Earl of Charmian and his family, along with the Earl of Tolston and Mr. Greenwald. “You do realize that you have been staring at the same page for more than an hour, do you not?” Madeline asked, her tone mild and amused.

  Amelia’s head snapped up, still unseeing and still wearing what she was certain must have been a silly grin.

  She knew it was silly because she’d seen it herself in the mirror—the day before after Mr. Greenwald left and she’d caught her reflection in the china cabinet, this morning while thinking about Mr. Greenwald’s visit at her dressing table, and over luncheon when she spotted that idiotic smile looking back at her in the reflection of her spoon.

  Each time she saw her silly smile, it mocked her mercilessly. Even now she had to force it away ruthlessly. Silly, stupid smile.

  “Are you reading Shakespeare’s comedies again?”

  Amelia pursed her lips, certain that her oldest friend knew exactly what she was reading at the moment. Nothing. She had not absorbed a single word so long as she sat here. Every time she tried, her mind wandered to thoughts of a man. One particular man. A man with sandy hair, sparkling eyes
, and a smile that seemed to say he knew each and every one of her secret dreams. Not only that—his smile promised to make them all come true.

  She slammed the book shut. Balderdash.

  “My, my,” Madeline murmured with a mischievous sidelong look. “Someone seems awfully moody today.”

  “Yes, well…” Amelia fussed with her hair to avoid making eye contact. “I suppose I am not in the mood for company this evening, that is all.”

  “Hmm.” Madeline’s murmur was noncommittal, at best…more like disbelieving. “And is there anyone in particular you do not wish to see?” She arched one brow and looked positively supercilious. “Lady Tess, perhaps? Did you and she have a falling out that I am unaware of?”

  Amelia scowled at her friend. “Of course not. You know very well that Tess and I are the truest of friends.”

  Madeline dipped her head but was not quite able to hide her amusement at Amelia’s discomfort. “Is it their great aunt you are afraid of seeing?”

  Amelia lifted her head to share in her friend’s amusement. Aside from being friends, she and Tess shared another thing in common—the most remarkable great aunts who were also dear friends, though their demeanors could not have been more different. Whereas Aunt Beatrice was in awe of nearly everything that occurred and had the demeanor of a young child, Aunt Gertie was worldly and wise. Both enjoyed laughter and music, and when they were in the room there was sure to be a good time.

  “Of course not,” Amelia said with a laugh. “Though I do hope she leaves the dogs behind.”

  The two ladies had visited with Tess and her family only a few days prior when the Earl of Charmian—better known among the ton as the Earl of Charm—had returned home. The earl had been just as quiet and standoffish as they’d heard him described, but his silence was drowned out by the noise created by his great aunt’s new and incredibly vocal dogs.

  “I thought they were adorable,” Madeline said.

  “Oh, indeed, I just fear they shall frighten away our new friends,” she said.

  “Ahhh.” Madeline’s tone was mild, as usual, but Amelia saw right through her friend. “Is it our new friends you do not wish to see, then?” She widened her eyes, all innocence. “I can certainly see how the earl might be a bit…off-putting. He was not the friendliest gentleman I have ever met.”

  Amelia let out a loud sigh at her friend’s theatrics. “Please promise you will never attempt to make a living on the stage or as a spy,” she said. “You would not last a day at either.”

  Madeline laughed. “Fine. I shall speak plainly.” She set her embroidery on her lap. “It is Mr. Greenwald you do not wish to see, is it not?”

  Amelia threw her hands up. “No, it is Mr. Greenwald who I very much wish to see…which is why I do not wish to see him.”

  Madeline’s smile faded to something far more tender, almost pitying. “You liked him.”

  That was an understatement, Amelia wanted to say. She held her tongue. Speaking of this silly infatuation would only exacerbate the issue. She ought to ignore it. Pretend it didn’t exist. She forced a smile. “I shall get over it.”

  Madeline reached over to pat her knee. “I know you will.”

  They sat in heavy silence for a moment. Amelia tried to distract herself, but it was no use. Her mind was thoroughly occupied by thoughts of one man. “Oh, this is useless,” she finally muttered, setting the book down to face Madeline, who’d never even pretended to resume her pastime. She’d clearly been waiting for Amelia to come around.

  “This is all his fault,” Amelia said.

  Madeline did not ask to whom she referred. It was understood. There was one man responsible for most of Amelia’s irritation these days and his name was Harlow. Her very own runaway duke.

  “If I had a husband, I would not be tempted by another man,” she stated firmly.

  Madeline pursed her lips slightly as she considered this. “I am not quite certain that is the way it works.”

  “The way what works?”

  Madeline shrugged. “Love.”

  Amelia jerked back, blinking wildly as though she’d just been struck. “Love—what? No. That’s not…no one used the word love.” Madeline’s laughter had Amelia rolling her eyes. “Fine. Perhaps I overreacted.”

  Madeline tried to speak through her laughter. “I did not mean to scare you so, cousin. I only meant that you and he were both clearly besotted.”

  Amelia bit her lip to keep from grinning. “You think he felt it too?”

  Now it was Madeline’s turn to roll her eyes. “My dear, the man made a fool of himself.”

  Amelia straightened in her seat, defensive of this man she barely knew. “He did nothing untoward.”

  “No, but that look in his eyes, the way he could not cease smiling every time he looked upon you…he did not even try to hide his emotions.”

  Amelia’s insides went to war—part of her was so very hopeful, and another part of her knew that hope would only ever lead to disappointment, at best. Deep down she had a suspicion that hope could lead to something far worse if she let it get out of hand. If even for the course of one night she allowed herself to truly dream about what life could be like with a man who looked at her as Mr. Greenwald had done, with a man who made her laugh like he had, with a man who seemed to see inside of her every time he glanced in her direction. A man whose very look made her feel beautiful and special and humorous and clever. A man who seemed to see inside of her all that was good, the best version of herself that always seemed to be hidden to others because she was not able to be herself around them.

  But she could with him. She just knew it. There was a connection between them that was unspoken but solid. Something real. Something that made her wish…

  Oh, there she went again.

  Her heart sank as she returned to reality.

  “It is only one evening,” Madeline said, her voice soft and kind. “With any luck, our friend Mr. Greenwald will make you so alarmingly disgusted that you will never give him another thought.”

  Amelia laughed despite herself. She had a difficult time imagining such a thing was even possible but Madeline nudged her arm with a little grin that would have surprised all of society if they had seen it. No one thought the cool, beautiful Miss Grayson to be capable of anything so indecorous as wicked amusement. “Perhaps he will be so kind as to chew with his mouth open,” she said. “Or overindulge with spirits, or—”

  “Or turn that flirtatious gaze on to someone else,” Amelia interrupted with a laugh. “Like Aunt Beatrice.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Madeline said. “There are plenty of ways a man can destroy your goodwill once you get to know him better.”

  Amelia smiled at her friend. “One can only hope.”

  Chapter 8

  A little more than twenty-four hours after leaving Amelia’s home, Royce found himself in a similar position—facing his friend in a carriage as they rattled their way through the streets, this time heading back to Lady Amelia. Nerves jangled with every rut that jarred them. It was a curious new sensation, he noted. He’d never once had an occasion to be nervous before.

  He rather liked it. Optimism abounded as he grinned over at Alec, who was watching him with that bored expression that fooled no one.

  “You think I have lost my mind,” Royce said.

  Alec did not so much as raise an eyebrow. They had been over this countless times over the course of the day. “I will say it again, for the record. This is a terrible plan.”

  Royce could hardly argue. Pretending to be his own solicitor in an attempt to woo the woman he was to marry was hardly his finest moment. But what other choice did he have? His lady clearly held the duke in no high regard—rightfully so, perhaps. Guilt once again tugged at him, attempting to undo his determined optimism.

  What was done was done, all he could do now was focus on the future.

  Alec sighed. “You do realize that this is a no-win situation. At best, you trick your betrothed into caring for you
and then risk her wrath when she discovers the truth. Worst case, you drive her away forever with your games.”

  Royce winced. He did know all this, but the word ‘games’ was still a blow. Yes, it was true, he’d filled much of his life with divertissement and adventure, but this was hardly a game. Not to him. Everything depended on his winning her over, on making her see that he was not nearly the fickle, thoughtless…what was it they called him? The runaway duke?

  He shifted uneasily. That wasn’t him.

  Isn’t it?

  “Someone will recognize you,” Alec said.

  Royce gave a snort of disbelief. “Doubtful. I haven’t been back to London in a decade. No one could possibly recognize me.” He ran a hand over his now clean-shaven jaw. “I’m a grown man now.”

  “A grown man who still plays charades,” Alec muttered with clear disdain.

  “I am merely hoping to make my bride-to-be fall in love with me,” Royce said, ignoring any guilt that may or may not have flared to life every time his friend stated the obvious. “Is that so wrong? I am doing this for her sake as much as mine.”

  Alec grunted. “If you were doing this for Lady Amelia, you would do the honorable thing and come clean.” His friend leveled him with a glare. “Accept her disdain like a man. Earn her respect and her love with honesty and effort.”

  “But that is the thing, my dear friend.” He forced a confident smile he did not quite feel. “If she gets to know me without the prejudice she holds against the duke, she might actually like me. She may even find herself happily betrothed. Then her life would be considerably more pleasant as well, would it not?”

  Alec’s answer was a weary sigh of resignation.

  “So, in a way, this is really rather selfless.” Royce flashed him a smile of triumph that he most decidedly did not genuinely feel. Was this the right move? He had no idea. But it seemed like a better decision than to out himself before he had a chance to truly get to know his bride.