Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Scarlett Osborne

  “Oh don’t worry mother. I should write all the time and Lady Melissa does not think we shall be gone long. Just long enough for the scandal to die down.”

  “Gone where?” Lynn’s voice was going higher and higher with each word. Soon only the dogs would be able to hear her.

  “Uhm, well, Lord Bergon talked about going abroad. Perhaps to France or the New World.”

  Lynn was shaking her head as soon as Brynn began to speak. “You can’t.”

  “It’s just for a short time mother. Not forever.” Brynn tried to sound as reassuring as possible although she did not know herself how long they would really be away.

  “No,” Lynn whispered.

  “I am sorry, mother. I don’t like it either but what else are they to do? Neither The Duchess nor Lord Bergon’s father will listen to reason.”

  “This is not...I won’t...” Lynn clutched her head, turning away. “You’re all I have,” her voice was quiet and despairing. Brynn stepped forward at once, clutching her mother’s shoulders and squeezing as hard as possible.

  “And you shall always have me, mother, whether I am here or not.”

  Lynn’s breath hitched and she shuddered, and Brynn froze, unable to understand what was going on with her mother. “It’ll be fine, mam,” she whispered.

  Lynn just shook her head. “No. It won’t.”

  “He said what?” Melissa was unable to believe her ears. Why would Patrick dismiss her concerns like this?

  “He said he would send a reply later today,” Brynn said patiently, for the third time. She well knew Melissa’s anxieties and yet she was hard pressed not to roll her eyes. “I have to go downstairs so I can keep an eye out for the footman he will send.”

  Melissa nodded. “I shall be in the music room, come find me there. Well, unless Rose is there and then I shall be in the conservatory.”

  “Do you intend to never speak to your sister again?”

  Melissa shrugged. “I will. Just not now.”

  Brynn sighed and left her to her own devices. Melissa was tired of her room; she felt as if she had practically been living in it ever since she met Patrick. She would go out and enjoy the air. Now that she thought about it, the conservatory seemed a better idea than the music room. Inevitably, people would come to call and if she were on hand, her mother might call upon her to play for them. She had no wish to entertain company in any form. Not until she knew what exactly was on Patrick’s mind. Therefore, hiding among the roses and oranges in the conservatory seemed a much better plan.

  She swiped up her book and walked out of her chambers, a vague smile on her face. She made her way down to the conservatory and settled down on the bench, trying to get lost in the story. She didn’t know how long she sat there before she noticed she was being watched. Looking up in startlement she regarded her mother who was standing still as a statue in the doorway, staring at her.

  Melissa stood up; she always liked to face her mother on her feet.

  “Mother.”

  The Duchess glided toward her. She was wearing a gown too ornate for lounging about at home but it was not an unusual thing for her to do.

  “Melissa. What are you doing?” The Duchess’ voice was unusually gentle and it scared Melissa.

  “I-I-I'm reading mother,” her hand shook as if she’d done something wrong. Her eyes darted about as if she was trapped in the conservatory.

  The Duchess took a seat on the bench, patting the space next to her. Melissa looked down at it as if she had never seen it before; as if she herself had not been sitting on it a moment ago. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bench, eyeing her mother warily.

  The Duchess sighed, eyes on her hands. “I know that you’re unhappy with the way things are, Melissa, but it’s time to face reality. It would be extremely helpful if you would just accept things as they are and stop trying to make waves.”

  Melissa frowned, “I haven’t made any waves, Mother.”

  Her mother reached into her pocket and removed a piece of paper. Melissa looked down at it, and her heart froze in her chest. It was an envelope, the writing on it was familiar. Her jaw dropped.

  How did mother get hold of that?

  “Were you waiting for this?”

  Melissa’s mouth was too dry to speak. Her mother fingered the envelope before she snaked her finger between the clasp and broke the seal.

  “No,” Melissa whispered, wishing she had the courage to reach for it, grab it away from her mother and run.

  The Duchess was unfolding the letter, and then with a sigh, she began to read.

  “My dear Melissa...” her mother gave her a look, “he calls you by your given name? How far have you gone with this man?”

  Melissa gasped, staring in shock at her mother. “He is a gentleman mother! And I am a Lady.”

  The Duchess snorted. “Well, you do not act like it. What are you doing exchanging letters with your sister’s betrothed?”

  “He’s not.”

  Her mother gave her a look. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He’s not her betrothed. He broke that engagement.”

  The Duchess’ eyebrow rose. “If that is true, don’t you think I would have known? This man is lying to you.”

  “He’s not.”

  Her mother put a gentle hand on your elbow. “Believe me, Melissa, I know his father well. That family is nothing but lying rakes.”

  Melissa sniffed. “If that is so, then why would you want him to marry Rose.”

  The Duchess sighed. “I don’t.”

  It was Melissa’s turn to widen her eyes at her mother. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t want Rose to marry into that family. But I had heard nothing untoward about Lord Bergon. I thought he might be different, but clearly he isn’t.”

  Melissa searched her mother’s face for a clue as to why she would say these things.

  “But...”

  The Duchess shook her head. “You should stay well away from this man. He is nothing but a rake.”

  “If you want nothing to do with his family, then why?” Melissa shook her head in disbelief, wondering if this was more of her mother’s games.

  What could she mean by her words?

  “The Duke, he strong armed me into this. There is nothing I can do.” The Duchess swallowed, her eyes closed, looking the very picture of despair.

  “Then why don’t you tell father; I am sure he would…”

  “No!” The Duchess clutched Melissa’s arm hard, her nails digging into Melissa’s flesh like talons. “He cannot know anything about this. It would kill him. You do not know this because I have been trying to protect you, but your father’s heart is weak. Any shock, however minor, could kill him.”

  Melissa felt her breath freeze in her throat. She had had no idea. “We keep this between us, agreed?”

  Melissa nodded slowly, her left thumb rubbing repeatedly against the base of her right. “How can we...what...?”

  “Please, we need to give the Cheshmill’s what they want and then they’ll leave us alone.”

  Melissa’s eyes dropped to the letter that her mother was still holding. “May I see?”

  Her mother tore the missive up in front of her. “No. I don’t think so. I will not give him a chance to get in your ear again. He means you harm, daughter.”

  Melissa did not know what to believe. “What about the hunt?”

  The Duchess sighed. “You must give me your promise, Melissa. No, you will give me your word, that you will stay away from that gentleman.”

  For a moment, Melissa regarded her solemnly before nodding jerkily.

  “No, Melissa. Say it.”

  Melissa took a deep, shaky breath. “I give you my word, Mother. I shall stay away from him.”

  Chapter 21

  A Series of Misunderstandings

  Patrick was surprised not to get some kind of answer from Melissa. She had been so hell bent on getting answers from him as if he was guilty of something that he thought his rep
ly might have elicited at least an apology from her.

  He stopped in to White’s, in search of Driscoll. Τhe Earl would make a sufficient distraction from his life, he thought, and the old man might even be able to give him some advice. Stenwick liked to pretend he was very droll; it masked his ability to care and his very-sharp mind.

  If Patrick was to elope, it would be good to have someone in his corner, on whom he could bounce off ideas and generally receive suggestions. For all he knew, his father might cut him off which meant knowing how he and his bride might make a living. He was thinking about purchasing a home before he left because most of the properties they owned off the continent were in his father’s name. It really did behoove him to be independent if he was to get out of his father’s thumb.

  It was only after making the decision to defy his father’s wishes that it truly came home to him how very interwoven his fortunes were with his father’s. His every-day livelihood came from the work that he did for his father and although he had quite a bit of savings and he owned the house on Grosvenor Street outright, he did not have enough to live a long stretch of time on his own resources.

  Stenwick, who had long severed ties with his own father for reasons he would not share, might have some ideas on how one was to live. Still, at the back of his mind, it niggled that he had received no reply from Melissa even though he knew that she could not exactly just send one of her footmen. He really was not built for intrigue.

  He was glad to see Stenwick at the whist table, relieving lesser men of their money as amiably as possible, and sat down at the bar to wait for him. It took three hours for him to stand up from the whist table and he came straight to Patrick, a smile on his face.

  “Bergon, old boy, what’s got you looking like a horse’s arse then?” Stenwick clapped him on the back even as he called for a drink.

  Patrick snorted. “I have no idea what you mean,” he said gulping down his whiskey.

  “You’ve been sitting here all alone for three hours, looking like someone pissed in your whiskey. Tell old Stenwick all about it and I shall make it all better.”

  Patrick laughed, his mood already lifting. “Actually, now that you mention it, I could use some advice.”

  Stenwick leaned forward, his blue eyes intent on Patrick. “By the time you’re coming to me for advice, it must be awful. Go on then.”

  Patrick explained his dilemma to his friend and by the time he was done, the smile had slid right off the Earl’s face and he was regarding Patrick quite solemnly. “That’s a brave thing you’re planning. Brave, but foolhardy. Are you sure she is worth it?”

  “She’s worth everything,” Patrick assured him.

  “Very well then, here’s what you need to do...” The Marquess leaned over eagerly, to listen.

  Melissa’s head was spinning with everything her mother had told her. She had so many questions, the number one being, how had her mother gotten hold of her letter? She knew that there should be more pressing things on her mind. Her mother was apparently being strong armed to support this wedding. The Duke was the one who wanted for Patrick to marry Rose.

  Why though?

  What difference did it make if he married Rose or Melissa? Was it an inheritance issue? She didn’t understand.

  What was in the letter?

  She couldn’t stop herself from being curious. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that there had to be some sort of mistake. That her mother did not know what she was talking about and that Patrick wasn’t a rake.

  Her heart was having trouble believing it.

  What had he said in the letter?

  Brynn walked into the room, carrying laundry. Melissa silently watched her lady’s maid arrange her clothes, her face absorbed in her task.

  “Did you wait for Patrick’s footman?”

  “Yah?” Brynn whipped her head around in surprise, “I haven’t seen anyone.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. I’ve been keeping an eye out for him but no, I haven’t seen anyone.”

  “That’s strange because my mother had a letter from Patrick.”

  Brynn stopped what she was doing to gawk at Melissa. “What do you mean, your mother had it?”

  “I mean my mother came to have a talk with me in the conservatory. She told me that Patrick is a rake and I should not believe a word he says. She showed me the letter. And then she tore it up.”

  Brynn’s mouth remained open as she continued to gawk at Melissa. She dropped the gown she was holding as her hand went limp. “What?” her voice was low and weak.

  Melissa nodded. “I don’t know what to think, Brynn.”

  “Well, for one thing, I think that Lord Bergon is the furthest thing from a rake.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Brynn shrugged. “I haven’t seen many rakes in my time, and maybe I’m biased because he let me sit at his dining table and drink his coffee, but he’s too nice.”

  “He’s too nice to be a rake? Don't you have to be nice to draw the girls in?”

  Brynn shrugged. “Perhaps. But I see the manner in which he looks at you. I think he is sincere.”

  Melissa’s eyes darted from place to place as she thought. “I don’t know, Brynn. She was so convincing. She even held my hand, she confided in me, she was gentle with me. So vulnerable. You should have seen her. She’s never been that way with me. She didn’t want me to be hurt.”

  Brynn’s look was still uncomprehending. “Are you sure?”

  “What do you mean, am I sure?”

  “I mean your mother has lied before. She lied about being sick.”

  “This isn’t like that! She wasn't...she wouldn’t...” Melissa was shaking her head in denial.

  “Wouldn’t she?” Brynn asked in a very-small voice.

  Melissa got to her feet, turning away from Brynn. “Get out,” she said her voice cold.

  “What? But...”

  “Get out, Brynn!” Melissa shouted and Brynn jumped, startled.

  “Fine,” she said scurrying toward the door. Melissa’s color was high and she was quite sure she had never been this angry at her friend, ever. Breathing huffily through her nose, she threw herself on the bed, closing her eyes and blocking everything out.

  Brynn went straight to her mother, feeling incandescent with rage. “May I speak with you, please?”

  Lynn put down the silver fork she was polishing. “Now? I am very busy.” The housekeeper made sure to polish all the silver herself to protect both the household staff and family. She wanted to remove temptation from any of her staff to pilfer the family silver. Besides, The Duchess knew that she did all of it herself and so she was secure that her household goods were safe.

  “Now, mother.”

  Lynn turned to face Brynn; her face was impassive. “Is that how you speak to your mother now? Who has taught you this impertinence? Was it Lady Melissa?”

  Brynn ground her teeth together. “Mother, did you intercept her letter and give it to Her Grace?”

  Lynn turned back to her polishing, saying nothing.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  Lynn continued to say nothing. Brynn stomped off, huffing through her nose. She could not believe her mother had betrayed her in such a fashion. She had confided in her, secure in the knowledge that her mother would keep her confidence. It was beyond her understanding that her mother would do such a thing to her.

  And to betray her to The Duchess of all people; it truly felt like a knife in the back. She rushed out, determined to do something, anything, to make this right.

  It was purely by accident that Lynn had intercepted the letter. She had been paying the tinker for the afternoon milk when she noticed the footman, loitering about. She had called to him and reluctantly, he had come to her.

  “Who are you waiting for?”

  He had hemmed and hawed but finally admitted that he was to leave a letter with a certain lady’s maid.

  Named Brynn.

  Lynn’s hea
rt had sunk to her shoes. Not her little girl. She had immediately held a hand out for the letter. The man had resisted for a few minutes but he was no match for Lynn Sumner. She had him handing over the letter in no time.

  She had opened it, read it, and then sat down in her chambers, thinking hard. What was she to do? If The Duchess even knew she had this in her possession and did not immediately hand it over to her, they would all be out on the street. If she knew how Lynn had gotten her hands on it, Brynn would be out on the street without question.