Charming the Runaway Duke: A Sweet Regency Romance

by Maggie Dallen

  “What do you mean?” Madeline asked.

  Amelia shifted to face her. “That first day when they arrived, was I too…” She waved her hands as she sought the word. Brazen? Unchecked? “Demonstrative?”

  Madeline’s snort of amusement put her at ease. “Hardly. You were your normal, wonderful, warm, loving self.” She leaned forward and squeezed Amelia’s hand again. “He is the one who should be ashamed for taking advantage of your innocence.”

  Amelia tried for a smile but it faltered and fell. She was angry with herself even more than Harlow, and that was difficult to bear. She’d always known that, compared to Madeline, she had a tendency to daydream too much, to get carried away with romantic notions. She’d never thought that to be a bad thing, really, just a part of who she was. But now…

  Well, now she felt like an unbearable fool for letting herself get swept away so easily. To think that there was some deep connection between them merely because they shared a similar sense of humor and some intimate gazes.

  She sniffed and tilted her head up further. Now she knew better, that was all. She knew better than to trust her silly, fickle heart which was clearly no judge of character whatsoever.

  “The Duke of Harlow is here to see you, my lady.” The butler’s announcement sapped the last of her strength.

  No! With desperation, she turned to Madeline who looked just as stricken as she felt. After the way she’d walked away from him yesterday, she’d assumed she would not see him again…at least, not for some time. It was clear to all that he had not come back to marry her—only to check up on her. She’d expected him to be on the next ship out of port. Heading off to some exotic locale where he could continue to pretend she didn’t exist.

  That was precisely what she’d planned to do. Pretend this whole miserable experience had never happened. But now…

  She and Madeline turned to the door where Mr. Greenwald—no, Harlow—was giving rather loud and imperious instructions to her staff that they were not to be interrupted.

  She stood up at that. How dare he come in here and take charge of her household? Her hands clenched into fists and she felt Madeline’s calming touch on her shoulder.

  “Perhaps he’s come to say goodbye,” she offered, with uncharacteristic optimism.

  Amelia doubted Madeline much wished to see Harlow either, not after the scene he’d caused after she’d stormed off, up the stairs where not even a duke was permitted to follow. She’d listened from the top floor landing as he’d tried to wheedle his way past her guardians.

  When Harlow came bursting into the drawing room now, Amelia’s breath rushed out of her at the sight of him. It was desperately unfair that he looked so handsome when she felt so miserable.

  But it wasn’t that alone that had her rooted in place, incapable of breathing, let alone moving. It was…him. All of him. Like some curtain had been pulled back, the man before her bore only the barest resemblance to Mr. Greenwald.

  It was him, and yet it wasn’t. He had the same sandy-colored hair, the same firm jaw, but without that easy smile, he looked… Well, he looked like a duke. All formidable power and unerring resolve. He looked like a man who yielded force and power and who never backed down.

  She stumbled back a step, knocking into Madeline as she realized that this was the man she was to marry. A man used to getting his way in all things and at all times.

  “I wish to have a private word with my fiancée.” That was what he said. His tone made it clear that this was not a request, but an order.

  Amelia felt Madeline stiffen beside her, ready to go to battle to keep her safe. Her great aunt was still in the dining room and likely was only now receiving word that he was here. Both ladies would stand by her—they would even have him forcibly removed if she wished.

  But she did not.

  Well, she did, but for once logic prevailed over her heart, which was pounding painfully in her chest at the sight of him.

  Must he look so dashing? It was hardly fair that a man so cruel could look so perfect.

  The sight of him was enough to bring memories rushing back. The way he’d looked at her at their very first meeting. The way he’d listened to every word as though what she had to say was of such significance. The way he’d made her laugh like she never had before. The kindness in his eyes and the passion in his voice…

  Lies, she reminded herself. All lies.

  But eyeing the determined expression on his proud face, she knew there was no avoiding this confrontation. She looked to Madeline, hoping her friend could read everything she was not saying as she murmured, “Let him say what he must.”

  Her friend studied her for a moment before giving a short nod. “Very well.” She squeezed her arm. “I will be close if you need me.”

  They both watched Madeline leave the room, nearly closing the door behind her but leaving it open a crack.

  The silence that followed made Amelia absurdly aware of her heart thumping wildly in her chest. It seemed to echo in the silence until she became convinced that Harlow could hear it, too.

  Maybe that was why he was staring at her so intently, his gaze inscrutable yet intense. Maybe he feared that her heart was going to leap out of her chest—for that was how it felt.

  “I’d like a chance to explain,” he said.

  To her surprise, his hard commanding tone was replaced by the kind, gentle voice she’d come to know with Mr. Greenwald. It left her feeling off-balance. The sweet, humorous solicitor she could deal with. Even the hard, imperious duke she understood. She’d known countless gentlemen like him in society. But this? This man who seemed to be both?

  He was an enigma, and for the first time since she realized his true identity, she found herself uncertain about his motives.

  “Please let me explain,” he added.

  The ‘please’ unnerved her entirely and she sank back into the settee as her legs grew weak. She nodded her assent and he sat across from her, pulling the chair closer so their knees were nearly touching. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I did not know that you were you,” he said.

  She frowned. “Yes, you said that yesterday and I still do not know what that means.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his expression softening. “Lady Amelia, I know you are a romantic, and so am I.”

  He said this like it was an accusation, but it was one she could not deny. “More the fool am I,” she said.

  He winced slightly. “No,” he said. “You are not the fool here. I have bungled our courtship from the very beginning.”

  “Courtship?” She let out a humorless laugh at that.

  “Yes, courtship.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Albeit, an unorthodox courtship…”

  Despite herself she felt her lips tugging up at the corners. She ruthlessly squashed the urge. “Why did you lie?”

  He straightened slightly at the direct question, but his gaze never left hers. “I had every intention of announcing who I was the moment I entered, but then I saw you.”

  She frowned, hoping he could not see how much that hurt. “And you were…not pleased?”

  His eyes widened. “What? No! Of course I was pleased. But I thought…I assumed…” He cleared his throat.

  At any other time she might have been amused by the severity of his discomfort. But at this particular moment she was fighting the urge to scream from impatience. She had the distinctly unnerving sensation that her future happiness depended on whatever words came out of his mouth next.

  “I thought your cousin was you,” he said. He gave his head a little shake and muttered something under his breath before meeting her gaze directly. “I misunderstood, and I believed your cousin to be Lady Amelia.”

  She did not know whether to laugh or cry. How many times had she thought to herself that Madeline ought to have been the daughter of a duke; her elegant, beautiful, cultured cousin was the one who should have been a duchess.

  A lifetime of insecurities rushed to the surface and she did
what she’d always done. She covered them with a smile. “Well, of course you did,” she said with a laugh that sounded bright even as it pained her throat on the way out. “My cousin would make a wonderful duchess, and it is no secret that she is the lovelier of the two of us, and—”

  “Amelia.” His voice cut through her babbling. “I did not say I wished for her to be Lady Amelia.”

  Amelia barely heard him. “You must have been so disappointed,” she started.

  “I was.”

  She sucked in a breath as a sudden pain lanced through her, leaving her breathless. She had not expected him to agree quite so readily.

  He leaned forward and took her hands in his. “I was disappointed because I had already been smitten by you.”

  She blinked at him. “I do not understand.”

  He let out a little sigh of exasperation. “You are a romantic, Amelia. Is it so hard to believe that I might have fallen in love at first sight?”

  She blinked again. “Yes.”

  He grinned and the sight was blinding. Breathtaking. The sight of that smile, so oddly familiar and dear...like it was meant just for her.

  “Fine,” he agreed with the sort of easy conviviality she’d come to expect from Mr. Greenwald. “Perhaps it was not love at first sight, but merely attraction.”

  She frowned at that. “It was not merely attraction.”

  His grin widened as she clamped her mouth shut. What was she doing helping him make his case? And yet… she knew of what he spoke. She would not have called it love, necessarily. That was too miraculous to fathom. But she could not deny the connection she’d felt from the very first. This sensation even now after all that had passed that he was hers. That she was his. That somehow, in some way, they belonged to one another.

  “No,” he said softly, his smile tender and amused. “It was not merely attraction. I knew even then it was something more, though I did not have words for it.”

  She pursed her lips as she thought about their first encounter—the way he’d seemed so addled when the earl and her cousin left them alone together. “I still do not understand why you lied.”

  He let out a long exhale as he squeezed her hands. “I suppose I’d just hoped for some more time to get to know you. I thought you were the companion and—”

  “Because I am so plain,” she interrupted.

  His frown was unexpectedly fierce. “No.” He leaned forward, his expression so determined it was rather alarming. “No one could ever call you plain. The only reason I misunderstood was because I recalled a girl with white-blonde hair.” He shrugged. “I assumed your cousin was you and when introductions were properly made I was too distracted by you to notice my error.”

  She believed him. Swallowing down a surge of fierce undeniable hope that threatened to bloom into joy, she forced herself to remain calm. There were still questions. “Why did you not tell me the truth once you realized your mistake?”

  His eyes creased at the corners with his obvious regret. “I wish I had. Believe me, I wish I’d never made such a foolish decision in the first place.”

  She bit her lip as she waited for his response.

  “It seemed as though you might have harbored some ill feelings toward me. Or, rather…” His jaw tightened. “Toward the duke.”

  Now it was her turn to wince with regret. She had not spoken all too plainly, but plainly enough. She had felt so comfortable with Mr. Greenwald that she hadn’t attempted to disguise her disdain for the man the ton called the runaway duke. Guilt swept through her, along with embarrassment. “I can explain,” she started.

  “Do not apologize.” He cut her off with a shake of his head. “I was grateful to hear the truth. It made me realize how badly I’ve treated you in the past.” All humor was gone, replaced by a self-recrimination that had her biting her lip to keep from protesting. But that would only be to make him feel better, and right now was a time for truths, not comfort.

  “Why did you?” she asked, her voice quieter than intended. But this was a question that had been plaguing her for years and a part of her wasn’t even certain she wanted to hear the answer after all this time.

  “Why did I not come back for you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He let out a long breath as his gaze met hers. “I was scared.”

  She widened her eyes. “Of me?”

  That earned her a small, rueful smile. “No. Or rather, yes. Not of you, necessarily, but of all that would come with being back in London society, a leader in the ton.” He gave his head a little shake. “It must sound so selfish to you, but I must admit that I never really gave you much thought at all.”

  She swallowed down the hurt, but she knew he saw it because his own eyes seemed to shine with the same pain.

  “I did not push away thoughts of you to be cruel, though I can see how it might seem so,” he said. “It was just easier to not think about you or, when I did, to tell myself that you were likely happy here in your family home—”

  “I was,” she said. “I am.”

  He nodded. “Good. I am glad of that, at least. But I realize now how much you have suffered from the gossip and the comments about me, about us…”

  She did not try to deny it. “I learned to adapt.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.” He startled her by reaching out to brush a curl away from her cheek. “Like a chameleon, you learned how to hide in plain sight. To disguise your hurt behind a smile.”

  He’d spoken softly, gently—almost as though he were speaking to himself. Oddly enough, it had her throat growing tight and tears stinging her eyes. “You understand.”

  “I see you, Amelia.” His voice was low but so very fierce. It held a world of emotion as he peered into her eyes. “I see you, and I understand you in a way that humbles me. I feel a connection with you that goes beyond words. More than that, I think that you feel it, too.” She did not immediately respond and he squeezed her hands. “Am I wrong?”

  She hesitated only briefly before giving her head a quick shake. “You are not wrong. I feel it too, this…connection.”

  Her words seemed to affect him physically. He slumped forward as if the weight of the world was just taken from his shoulders. As if she had singlehandedly saved him from some excruciating pain.

  The effect she had was humbling. Before she could stop herself, she tugged a hand out from under his and touched his cheek. His eyes shot up in surprise but he made no move to pull away as she trailed her gloved fingers over his cheek, his jaw, and into his hair. She needed to touch him, to make sure that he was real…that this was real.

  “Are you still scared?” she asked. His words from earlier had stuck with her, making her feel sympathy even though she did not fully understand.

  He shook his head. “No. I…” He cleared his throat. “My family life was not ideal. My parents did not enjoy one another’s company and the atmosphere was…well, it was not pleasant.”

  She bit her lip to keep from speaking. He looked like the words were being pulled from some deep, dark place. “Obligations and duty, those words were what I lived by—what I was raised to believe were more important than anything. Far more important than love or family or happiness…” He met her gaze evenly. “I suppose I thought that if I came back here and took over the estates and the position in society that I would end up having my father’s life.” He cringed at some memory he did not name. “I assumed that once I married I would be doomed to share the same fate as my father with his marriage, which was little more than a bitter, angry, torturous prison for them both.”

  She clasped his hands tightly. “I am sorry you grew up in a home like that,” she said softly.

  His expression softened and his eyes filled with that light she was starting to know so well. It seemed to be designed just for her, like his smile. “But when I met you, when I realized that what we could have was nothing like that…” He shook his head. “I realized how stupid I have been.”

  She arched her brows. “An
d that was why you decided to continue with your farce?”

  He nodded. “I wanted you to have a chance to get to know me as a man, not as the duke and not as your future husband who had ignored you for all these years. I thought that perhaps you might fall for me like I had already fallen for you.”

  “Oh.” That one simple word came out on a shaky sigh as her heart leapt with joy that defied all reason.

  He held her gaze for a long moment as joy spread from her heart, through her veins, until she was trembling with gratitude for the miracle that sat before her. This man loved her, and she loved him, and… “We are to be married,” she finally said, her voice filled with all the awe she was feeling.

  His smile mirrored her overwhelming happiness. “We are. But not right away.”

  She arched her brows in surprise at his insistence.

  “Not because I do not wish to wed…”

  She fought a laugh at his quick reassurance.

  “I would like the chance to properly court you,” he finished. “The way you deserve. I wish for society to see that my beautiful, enchanting fiancée has won my heart and soul with her humor, her grace, and her smile.”

  Laughter won out, her happiness too much to hold inside.

  “What do you say, my long-lost bride?” he teased. “Will you allow me to court you?”

  She grinned up at him. “If you insist.”

  Epilogue

  One year later…

  Amelia’s family home was a disaster in the very best way. Furniture was covered and dishes clattered as they were put away. Excitement was a palpable force in the air as servants bustled about making the final arrangements to close up the house for the winter.

  Amelia turned to face her cousin with a smile. “Are you certain?”

  Madeline rolled her eyes with a sigh that was part exasperation and part amusement. “If you ask me that one more time…”