Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Scarlett Osborne

  The only way to save them all was to take this straight to the Madam and feign all ignorance of wrongdoing. Nodding to herself, she got to her feet and went to find Her Grace.

  Brynn was not sure of her destination until she found herself on Grosvenor Street. Was she going to tell on her mother and mistress? Was she going to demand answers from a lord? She was standing, staring off into space when somebody bumped into her, catapulting her forward and almost making her land on her face. Only a strong hand wrapped around her arm like a vice saved her.

  “Careful now,” the person said as she composed herself and turned to thank him. She froze, finding herself face to face with Henry, Lord Bergon’s footman.

  “What are...?” she began to ask him what he was doing there when she realized that it was, she who was out of bounds. “Uh...”

  Henry smiled. “Why it’s Miss Brynn, isn’t it? You’re out of your way.”

  “Yes, I am. Must have got turned around,” she tried on a smile for size.

  “Did you get the note I gave to your housekeeper?” Henry leaned forward earnestly.

  “Yes, I did.” Brynn figured it was none of Henry’s business what went on in the Greyfield household. Perhaps his master had some investment in who got the note but Henry was just a messenger. A tall, very blue-eyed messenger but nonetheless, simply that.

  “Is your master home?” she ventured to ask.

  Henry shook his head. “He is not,” he looked regretful to inform her of it. “Do you have a note for him? I could take it.”

  Brynn shook her head vigorously, at a loss of how to explain why she had asked that question. “Uh, I, uh, I thought perhaps I should check–since I am here in any case–if he had some more mail for My Lady.”

  Henry’s eyes brightened. “That’s a good thought. Your lady is lucky to have one so solicitous of her welfare in her service. Come with me, I shall show you to our kitchens where you can rest your feet and have a cup of tea. My master may be back soon and I’m sure he should be glad of the chance to write to his betrothed again.”

  Brynn started with surprise to hear Henry call Melissa Lord Bergon’s betrothed.

  Or does he mean Lady Rose?

  It was difficult to know who he might mean unless he specifically named her.

  “Yes,” she tried, “Lady Melissa would indeed be pleased.” She watched him carefully for a reaction but all he did was nod absently. She sighed inwardly, resigned to waiting for Lord Bergon if she wanted any answers.

  It wasn’t as if Lady Melissa would miss her. She had been summarily dismissed from her sight and judging by how angry she had been, she doubted that her friend would want to see her again tonight.

  Unless she brought back something irresistible.

  Patrick weaved his way home, feeling quite sozzled as he went over everything Stenwick had told him. He would have his work cut out for him if he wanted to make a clean break.

  This isn’t as romantic as the novels try to make out. He thought with amusement. In all the books he had read, the hero would decide to elope and he’d steal in through the heroine’s window and cart her away without so much as a stop at Lloyd’s bank to get some gingerbread. Somehow they were able to make their getaways without such tedious encumbrances.

  He, on the other hand, would have to make extensive arrangements and liquidate some assets before he could make his dreams a reality. He hoped that Melissa could be patient because, in the meantime, they were going to have to play by their parents’ rules. He was beginning to understand how very far under his father’s thumb he had been, without a thought as to his own future.

  He had been laboring under the delusion that his own ends would forever align with those of his father. Now that they had come to this crossroads, he felt it was a sort of coming of age. Hopefully, in the future, he would be able to reconcile with his father and continue the amiable relationship they had always shared. But for now, he had to stand straight and be a gentleman.

  He stepped into his house, nodding at his footman who was smiling expectantly at him.

  “Good evening My Lord,” he said and then paused to take a breath. Patrick lifted an eyebrow even as he nodded a greeting.

  “Yon lady’s maid is here to see you again,” he said, managing to surprise Patrick.

  “What? Who?”

  “Yon lady’s maid? Miss Brynn.”

  Patrick’s brow furrowed. “Brynn is here?” his heart sank as he wondered what could have happened to bring Melissa’s lady’s maid to his house twice in one day. Had something happened to Melissa? Was she ill?

  “Bring her to me!” he shouted, striding quickly toward his study.

  “Yes sir,” Henry called even as Patrick disappeared into his study. He was still pacing up and down when Andrews ushered the girl in. He stopped mid-pace; his eyes fixed on Brynn.

  “Well, this is a surprise. Twice in one day. To what do I owe the privilege?”

  Brynn took a deep shaky breath and seemed to brace herself. “Your letter, My Lord, it was intercepted by The Duchess.”

  Patrick blanched. “And?”

  “And well, she tore it up before Melissa could read it.”

  Patrick looked around thinking hard. “I see. And what is to be Melissa’s punishment.”

  “Oh no My Lord,” Brynn took a step closer, “It’s worse than that. The Duchess has turned her against you.”

  Chapter 22

  Back and Forth

  Melissa was beginning to regret banishing Brynn. Until she had stayed out of sight for so long, Melissa had not realized how much time they spent together. Not speaking to her lady’s maid all day really brought home to her how lonely her life was.

  It wasn’t even her fault. How could she have known that mother would intercept the letter?

  She knew she had unfairly taken out her frustrations on Brynn–what she had said had been perfectly true. Her mother had lied to her before and Brynn hadn’t been there. She had not seen the sincerity in The Duchess’ eyes when she told Melissa about being blackmailed. There was no way she was cutting shams.

  She thought back to the night of her birthday when Patrick had saved her life.

  Supposedly.

  What if the whole thing had been set up so that Melissa would need rescuing and then Patrick could get into her good graces? Melissa stopped short on the stairs, staring off into space. The bell had gone for dinner but the way she was feeling at the moment, she did not think she could force anything past her lips.

  Was it all a game?

  The Cheshmills had gotten what they wanted after all; a betrothal. Melissa just didn’t know what to think anymore. The gentleman she’d come to know, her Patrick did not seem capable of such chicanery. The way that he touched her, so gentle, so intent. The strange heat which suffused her stomach when she saw him…

  But it was true that he admired his father and she had no idea what his father was capable of.

  She remembered seeing The Duke of Cheshmill speaking with her mother at the ball, but not what they said. Was he blackmailing her then or later? She needed to speak more with her mother, find out everything. She didn’t know what she could possibly do about it but it might help to crystallize her thoughts in a way that made them less confusing.

  “Melissa?”

  She started, eyes lifting to see her father at the bottom of the stairs, observing her with raised eyebrows. She quickly began moving again, descending the rest of the way to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Is anything the matter?”

  “No, Father. Everything is fine,” she smiled at him, lifting her skirts so she could walk down the corridor with him, toward the dining hall. She sighed, shooting glances at him, wondering if she should betray her mother’s confidences and tell him what she knew. Her mother had been so adamant though and what if she was putting her father in danger? She would die if any harm came to him because of her actions. Of all the members of her family, he was the kindest to her.

  She put her hand on
his arm, squeezing gently and he aimed a vague smile in her direction in return. They entered the dining room where her mother and sister were already seated. The Duchess aimed a narrow-eyed glance her way but she simply shook her head discreetly to indicate that she had said nothing.

  Dinner went on civilly enough after that. She still missed Brynn terribly.

  “What do you mean; she has turned Melissa against me?” Patrick knew he was too close to the serving girl. That she was intimidated by his looming. But he could not help himself. He had spent all day making plans to elope; to forsake all others for this girl and she had turned her back on him at a single word from her mother?

  “Sir, please, I am sure it is all just a misunderstanding. If you could explain to her…” Brynn was trying to be reassuring but every word she said made him angrier. He interrupted her rudely.

  “Explain what? I have nothing to explain.”

  “Her Grace has Melissa thinking you’re in an elaborate scheme to ruin both her and Lady Rose. She doesn’t understand why you agreed to the hunt. Please sir, as adventurous as she may seem, she is still a green girl, not used to the ways of the world.”

  Patrick gave a sardonic laugh. “And you are?”

  Brynn shook her head helplessly. “I am but a simple lady’s maid. I am just trying to...” her shoulders slumped as she ran out of words.

  Patrick felt his heart soften and knew that his anger and impatience would just make this situation worse. The truth was, however, that he could not make Melissa trust him. Either she did or she did not.

  “Nothing has changed. The plan remains the same. We will elope. But only if she still wants to. In the meanwhile, we must go along with my father’s plans, to avoid suspicion.”

  Brynn nodded. “I see. That is what I thought as well. But The Duchess has her convinced...”

  Patrick shrugged. “There is nothing I can do about that. It is up to her. Either she will come around or she won’t.”

  Brynn narrowed her eyes at him. “You seem remarkably calm about it all.”

  “I think the lesson that I have learned today is that you can only do so much. You can lead the donkey to the river, but you can’t make it drink. I cannot force Melissa to feel things she doesn’t.”

  “But you do love her?” Brynn insisted looking for a definitive answer.

  “Of course. As I said, the plan has not changed.”

  Brynn nodded. “Good.” She took a deep breath before asking tentatively, her voice small, “Now, would you mind rewriting that note?”

  Patrick huffed a laugh. “Very well, Cupid. I shall rewrite the note.”

  Melissa was just getting ready for bed when Brynn breezed into the room, her cheeks shiny with excitement. Melissa paused in her attempts to unhook herself–an effort that was admittedly not going very well–to stare expectantly at her. Clearly, the girl had some news.

  Brynn thrust something at Melissa and she looked down at it in surprise. Reaching out slowly, she took it from Brynn’s hands.

  A note from Patrick.

  Melissa’s eyebrows rose.

  “I got you a replacement.”

  “I see that.”

  “So? Are you not going to read it?”

  Melissa stared at the note some more before putting it aside. “First, would you help me with my stays?” she turned around so that Brynn could get to them. She could feel the other girl’s surprise at her actions but stood waiting until she felt Brynn’s warm hands upon her back.

  “I should not have taken my ire out on you,” she said quietly, finding it easier to apologize when her back was turned. She felt the other girl shrug.

  “Tis fine. I understand, My Lady.”

  Melissa felt the hurt of Brynn calling her ‘My Lady’ as if they were no more than mistress and maid. “And I am grateful that you sought to replace the torn note.”

  “It was the least I could do, ma’am.”

  Melissa sighed. “You did not have to do it, though. It was dangerous and if someone had caught you, the consequences might have been dire. I don’t want you to risk yourself on my account.”

  There was a loud, disbelieving silence behind her. The air was fraught with tension. Melissa didn’t know the words to say that would take them to yesterday when she had not gone and treated her friend merely as another servant. “I am sorry,” she whispered, close to tears. She turned to face her friend, searching her face for forgiveness.

  “Please do not apologize.” Brynn’s lashes dropped to hide her eyes and her fingers twitched against each other. “I know how much you crave your mother’s approval and I should not have said what I did.”

  “You told me truth like you always do. I cannot blame you for that.”

  Brynn lifted her lashes and they regarded each other intently, the tension stretching between them like a wire. Then Brynn smiled tentatively and Melissa smiled back in relief. Brynn let out a laugh and Melissa threw her arms around her neck and hugged her close.

  “Forgiven?” she whispered into Brynn’s neck.

  “Forgiven,” Brynn whispered back, holding on tight. “Now are you going to read that note I worked so hard to get?”

  Melissa laughed out loud. “Of course. I’ve been dying of curiosity.”

  Brynn shook her head as she moved away. “Of course, you have. I do declare that you were a cat in another life.”

  Melissa gasped. “Don’t let your mother hear you talking like that.”

  Brynn shrugged. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  Melissa picked up her letter.

  My dear Melissa,

  A loyal friend of yours informs me that there has been a misunderstanding of some sort between us and you may be under the impression that I aim to play games with your heart. While I wish to assure you that nothing could be further from the truth, I also feel quite aggrieved that you would lose faith in us so easily.

  If we are to elope as we planned, we may have to spend years relying on no one but each other. It is a grave undertaking and if you do not feel up to it, then please break my heart now. Let us end this before something irrevocable has happened.

  I say ‘something irrevocable’ even though I know that I have already given my heart away and I do not know how to get it back.

  In any case, I expect that I shall see you at the hunt and you can give me your answer then.

  I am now and remain forever,

  Yours faithfully,

  P

  Melissa gave a deep sigh as she came to the end of the letter. It was a bit more reprimanding than she had expected but strangely enough, it was that reprimanding tone that reassured her.

  He was not trying to persuade her, as a rake would–at least she assumed that was what a rake would do–he was simply stating his case and leaving her to form her own conclusions. And he was right; perhaps she had succumbed to suspicion too fast. In her defense, there was a lot of evidence to support her mother’s words.

  But what if they were both telling the truth?

  After all, her mother might well assume that Patrick was in on whatever blackmailing scheme his father was running when in actual fact, he was just a pawn. That would explain all of it.

  She perked up at the thought, relieved to find an explanation that did not mean either her mother or the love of her life was a villain.

  “What does it say?”

  She jumped, having forgotten that Brynn was still in the room. She shrugged, smiling at her best friend. “It says I should have more faith.”

  “I told you so!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Melissa looked back down at the letter, feeling a sudden longing to be back in Patrick’s arms. It felt like forever since she had seen him last. Perhaps she could get her sister to invite him for dinner soon. It might not slake her thirst to just look at him, but it was better than nothing.

  Rose was practicing her scales the next morning when Melissa walked in. Just from the look on her face, Rose knew she was up to something.
Her sister was nowhere near as subtle as she thought she was.

  Melissa came and sat down at the pianoforte and began to play counterpoint. Rose stopped playing at once, staring at her sister.

  “What is it?”

  “What do you mean? Can't we spend time together without fighting?”