The Duke's Headstrong Woman: True Love In London (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 2)

by Virginia Vice

  "I'm... not certain, I've quite a lot to attend to at my estate, and I had hoped to make this meeting rather hasty," Lord Beckham said hesitantly. He looked at Lord Havenshire, and felt a guilt in his throat.

  "It won't take long at all," Lord Havenshire insisted brightly, before another coughing fit filled his throat. "Not long at all." Lord Beckham sighed.

  "Yes, perhaps we should," he finally relented.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "She's a beauty, isn't she?" Lord Havenshire asked, his voice a hoarse whisper as he loudly cleared his throat. Lord Beckham couldn't stand the smell of stables; he wasn't himself much enamored with horses, for that matter, something that had he spoke it aloud would have met with much surprise and alarm. Few men here among the moors of north England didn't appreciate horses or the art of riding them, but the pursuit had never quite earned Lord Beckham's interest. The heady stench of hay and the low whinny of chattering equines inspired only a sidelong gaze from Marshall, who regarded the animal Lord Havenshire presented proudly with a faint but clearly disinterested smile.

  "Yes, indeed, a fine breed," Lord Beckham returned absentmindedly. Its skin a deep shade of brown and its hair long and white, Lord Beckham got the feeling that these were perhaps special or rare features for a horse to have, or that they were quite prominent and agreeable on this particular horse, but he knew so little of horses that he couldn't point out the differences between a beautiful and a rather mundane example of the animal. He glanced longing towards the stable doors, sighing deeply and begging silently for James to pull the carriage away from the roadway and off to the stables to rescue him.

  "When's the last time you went riding, Lord Beckham?" Lord Havenshire asked with a knowing grin, offering the animal to Marshall, who recoiled at the offer. He hadn't rode a horse in so long he couldn't even recall the last occasion, save that it likely ended with him nearly thrown from the animal's back, as he found himself to rarely have what it took to control the wily creatures. He quite rightly feared embarrassing himself should the old man actually ask to have a ride.

  "Not many opportunities for a ride at my estate, I'm afraid," Lord Beckham answered, reeling from the smell and the sight of the stabled animal that approached him willfully. "It's... rather rocky terrain, near the manor," Lord Beckham resolved an excuse as quickly as he could for his lacking equestrian skills. Lord Havenshire frowned.

  "Unfortunate, that. I've always found the freedom of riding the back of one of these beauties to be one of the most liberating experiences our mortal existence has to offer us, and these last few months without a ride across my property have left me begging to feel that again," Lord Havenshire lamented. "Alas, the illness has made me too weak to control one of the animals, I'm rather ashamed to admit. The Emerys estate has quite the perfect sort of landscape for a good ride. Horses aren't quite enamored with the trees, of course, but they weave through them far easier than they would rocks or soaring mountains, or that sort of thing."

  "Indeed," Lord Beckham responded idly, still vexed as he glanced towards the stable doors. A dozen horses stood arrayed along the wooden walls, each sequestered into its own quaint den, stuffed with buckets of water, bales of straw and plates of assorted vegetables and other manner of detritus for the creatures to feast upon. Lord Beckham recalled his own manor's stables, sitting empty and idle upon his land since he'd sold the last of the creatures to a home which had actual want and use of them; he himself had no such needs.

  "My daughter, Nadia... this is her horse, Shadow. They grew up together, practically," Lord Havenshire laughed, his voice both joyous, proud, but momentarily heartbroken at recalling his daughter's youth. "They taught one another how to ride, and how to run, more or less. She's always been an exceptional rider, so much so that had she not been born the only daughter of a duke, I'd have told her to pursue her riding skill relentlessly," he joked. "She may well do so, regardless. She's always been stubborn about listening to the ramblings of her old father."

  "She... certainly seemed willful," Lord Beckham recalled hesitantly. "But... a charming sort of willful."

  "A charming sort indeed," Lord Havenshire laughed. "It's my own fault, letting her range freely across the world like a wandering little chicken pecking at seeds on a plain. I fear it's made her unmarriageable, seeing the world outside of this place. I wake up each day fearing my servants will inform me she's disappeared on Shadow's back, into the night," he sighed.

  "I certainly don't think a woman doesn't deserve marriage because she can think for herself," Lord Beckham responded, earning a curious look from Lord Havenshire.

  "Had she been born a man, she'd be the finest duke Emerys has ever seen," he lamented.

  "And do you think that's a problem of her birth? Or a problem of how we do things here?" Lord Beckham presented the question with a tap on his chin.

  "Now you're beginning to sound like her," Lord Havenshire guffawed, before a coughing fit stole his breath away. He slunk onto one of the stablekeeper's stools. "She's quite the firebrand, and I know the other gentlemen... they see no value in a woman who's been across the world. They think she's... mad, or that some ill-mannered ideas have tainted her like a disease," Lord Havenshire lamented.

  "She certainly seemed... lovely, when I spoke with her," Lord Beckham hesitated to say, though he meant it.

  "That," Lord Havenshire exclaimed, "that. Is precisely why I've invited you here, Marshall. You know how our world works - even if it's not how we want it to work, not how Nadia wants it to work. If you could just, perhaps, help to teach her - help to convince her, that while the idea of women as equals is noble... it's just not how it works. Coming from you—"

  "Father? The servants told me you'd gone to the stables," a voice crept through the stable doors; Lord Beckham's heart froze, his eyes widened. He heard her - her pleasant but plucky voice, and with his eyes set on the swinging stable doors, he saw her, dressed in the manner of an equestrian, her pants tight and tall and white, clung to her sweet curves, her expression bright, her hair tied back, a jacket fit snug over her torso. Her eyes gleamed... until they fell upon the sight of Lord Beckham, a familiar face that inspired so many different, clashing emotions in her mind. She swallowed hard, her own expression mirroring the shock in Lord Beckham's.

  He appreciated seeing her... even if it came at so disastrous a time.

  "Nadia! You recognize this man, don't you? Lady Henrietta told me you two had quite a time sitting next to one another last night at Lord Perrywise's banquet," Lord Havenshire exclaimed in the loudest, congratulatory tone his ravaged throat could muster. "I've invited him to see the horses, and I was just exhibiting Shadow to him."

  "Y... yes, I know of... of Lord Beckham," Nadia gulped, watching Marshall closely. He regarded her with his own sense of suspicion, of praise; he had no inkling of how offended she had been after their failed conversation, or even if he had any hope to make good their potential relationship. "I'm not certain what Lady Henrietta believed of our relationship, but... we're simply acquaintances, nothing more," she said, rather cuttingly.

  "Y... yes, acquaintances," Lord Beckham responded, crestfallen.

  "And so is here to purchase a horse, then?" Nadia asked curtly. "...with the fortune he secured from beneath his sister's feet?"

  "Lady Havenshire, I had hoped we could speak about—" Lord Beckham blurted, ire stoked by her comments.

  "Speak about? Speak about what?" she retorted, arms crossed atop her chest.

  "Nadia, you're not being courteous to our guest," Lord Havenshire rumbled. "Act like a proper lady, I know for certain I and Ms. Mulwray taught you properly."

  "Guest? He's a guest, is he?" Lady Havenshire scowled. "I'm not quite so stupid as you seem to believe, father. I've guessed astutely at the purpose of his visit, and I'm quite certain it's not simply to fawn over the horses."

  "That's not how I taught you to speak to your peers, Nadia," Lord Havenshire grumbled, coughing as he shifted along the uncomfortable stool.


  "M'lady, I had no intentions of offending you, but I was scarcely going to simply ignore the plea of a sick man to visit his estate, whether Lady Henrietta was behind it or no," Lord Beckham protested. "I apologize for offense my situation may have caused your sensibilities, but—"

  "But you knew you had offended me, yet you accepted my father's invitation, knowing full well who had had a hand in it, and what he - and Lady Henrietta - had hoped would come from such a meeting," Nadia bristled, her long equestrian boot stamping into the dirt as she punctuated each word harshly. "Taking that into account, I don't think you're quite sorry for your words or situation at all. I think you're taking full advantage of the position afforded you as a man."

  "I had no intention of offending you, again," Lord Beckham growled, "but I'd be betraying myself and my estate if I so crassly refused—"

  "Such simple excuses," Nadia scoffed.

  "Nadia, I've invited this man to our estate and now you're insulting him, and I'll not tolerate it," Lord Havenshire's voice gurgled out through a cough.

  "Father, you've invited this man to try to marry me off, just as you called me back home to marry me off. And now, you're conspiring to take away my agency, simply because you think it'd be in my best interests. And how are you to say I'm not capable of acting in my own best interests? I'm a grown woman, with a mind, one that's seen far more of the world than a man like this," she sneered, before turning in disgust and storming from the stable door. Deflated, Lord Beckham realized he had, by now, done too much damage to any hope he had held on to to reignite that spark; to strike the flint once more and create a raging fire of emotion between them. He had failed, just as he had failed Anna.

  "You see what a dying old father has to deal with?" Lord Havenshire coughed loudly, shaking his head. "She's lovely, really, beneath the layers of willful scorn she wears like heavy plate armor, I promise. She takes from me - not her mother, who was as lovely a woman as the moors have ever seen. No, I was willful as she is when I was her age, and I blame myself for letting the world change her, make her hardened, and not the woman she should be, looking for a husband," he lamentled. "I apologize for her."

  "You needn't," Lord Beckham shook his head. "Willful, yes, and perhaps far too judgmental for her own good. But I would never fault a woman for thinking of her own freedom. Isn't that what all men do?" Lord Havenshire regarded him curiously, still stunned to hear these sorts of things said by a man of northern England.

  "Lord Beckham, I have to be brutal in my honesty to you. I've not told anyone, not even Nadia, but... I've not got much time of my own left on this world. She's not stupid, and so I'm certain she grasps the urgency of my situation, but she... Ms. Mulwray, they've all deluded themselves into denial. The truth is that without some manner of intervention, I'll die without seeing her married, and she - and our family estate - will be lost," Lord Havenshire confided, his voice shaky. "You, though - you've shown an unusual sort of tolerance for my daughter's ideas, and... well, I can't be certain what was said between you, at that dinner, but I think that you're the only man I can say this to, right now, in confidence that you'll understand."

  "It's gracious of you to trust me, m'lord, but..." Lord Beckham hesitated; he heard thunder begin to rumble, and as the sound stretched across the sea of grass waving beyond, he swallowed, flashes of the day on the Delshire Moors bringing fresh trauma to his mind. "...I'm not deserving of your daughter; or of any wife, in honesty. I've only disappointed those I've fallen in love with, and I've no doubt your daughter - finding herself a prisoner in her estate - would fare any better."

  "A disappointment? Marshall, you're anything but," Lord Havenshire insisted. "Your tolerance for my daughter's odd ideas means you're the only man I've known capable of corralling her. Of convincing her of the importance of marriage."

  "I..." Lord Beckham's voice trailed away as he thought on the old man's words. Perhaps Lord Havenshire had a point. Lord Beckham knew the sorts of men cluttering the aristocracy; outwardly they loved to play the role of the deferential gentleman, but within they harbored all those same predilections and basal passions that drove all the misery and woe of the world - greed for power, greed for control; greed for wealth and fortune. He knew she needed marriage - even if she didn't want it - and she knew that any other man would keep her in the cage she feared, and would stifle all those thoughts of hers.

  "Lord Beckham, I beg you to at least, please consider the thought. I know how Nadia appears, but she's a lovely woman," Lord Havenshire pleaded, tears rolling at the edges of his eyes. With a weighty sigh, Lord Beckham glanced away, holding his eyes closed.

  "I'll... consider it, m'lord," he answered in a deep, thrumming tone. "I'll... I'll consider it closely."

  CHAPTER NINE

  What nerve he'd had!

  Lady Havenshire had lost the inclination to go riding; while it had always been one of her favorite pastimes, and she looked forward to her first afternoon spent atop her trusted steed Shadow, the sight of her father and that lord conspiring to usurp her individuality had put her off the stables; off of quite a bit of everything. Instead she stood now at the top of the stairwell, glancing down into the foyer, with her helmet, jacket and jodhpurs replaced by a flowing white gown and her messy hair falling across her shoulder, she waited indignantly for her father to return from the stables. She had quite a lot she wanted to say to him, even if it vexed her to think of his poor condition and how he had truly wanted the best for her.

  But how could he or anyone other than her, know what she most wanted in the world?

  The nerve, that Lord Beckham must've had, to answer a summons after last night. They'd spoken, and she'd realized he had been the same as every other man - always happy to step atop a woman to elevate themselves, even their own mothers, daughters, and sisters. Their conversation had been nil after that particular exchange; she had no real interest in entertaining more words from a man who had benefited so crassly from the institutions she hated. Lady Henrietta had poked her head in between the two of them from time to time...

  Lady Henrietta! Lady Havenshire's rage only grew as she thought on how this had all come to pass. No doubt that insufferable old woman had gotten into her father's ear just last night, crowing on about how wonderful the event had been; how Nadia had been chattering on with a lord whom Lady Henrietta thought to be a suitable suitor. This had all been her doing, hadn't it? Fuming, Nadia stared intently at the door, arming herself with one argument, and then another, preparing to eviscerate her father's own arguments about her fate and about Lord Beckham.

  She had not been completely without base in making such assumptions. Of course, he had benefited from a crooked system, he had stepped over his sister! But Lady Havenshire had not failed to give him credit for his charms; for his open mind. He had made her laugh, after all; something none in England hadm managed in earnest for quite some time. His voice commanding, she could even appreciate how handsome he was; something she had long ago given up on finding properly in England. He had certainly been different from the others... but not so different, she reassured herself. As attractive, and interesting, as the man had proven, she wouldn't become just another woman like her friends, giving up their minds and wills to marry for inheritance and social gain.

  Curious maidservants scrambled about the polished furniture and the long shadows of nightfall crossing through the foyer, their eyes flashing over angry Lady Havenshire, words of lilted gossip passing across their tongues. Nadia crossed her arms, her expression cross, as she watched the doors to the manor open slowly, a thunderstorm brewing without, rumbles echoing across the trees and grasses of the Emerys estate.

  "I've good news," the tired duke announced as he closed the door behind him. "Lord Beckham has expressed a potential interest in courting you, Nadia."

  "Did you see him off, then?" Nadia asked her father, ignoring his proud pronouncement, as he tiredly crossed the threshold. "Is he going back to his estate?" he lifted his gaze, his face weary; she felt a tw
inge of concern for her father in his heart, knowing that he had spent more time out of bed trying to impress today than he likely had in the months since he'd fallen ill.

  "Nadia," he responded, his voice weak, "I had invited Lord Beckham here as a guest. I have respected you, my daughter, for your impudence for quite a long time, but treating my guests in this manner... it's not acceptable."

  "He was no ordinary guest, father, and it's insulting of you to lie to me in such a manner," Nadia fumed. "I know just why you invited him, and I know just why agreed to come here. Lady Henrietta has been singing quite melodically into your ear all night and all day, hasn't she, father?"

  "Lady Henrietta sings quite a great many tunes into my ear each day, Nadia, do you think I listen to every bit of gossip she blurts out?" her father responded harshly, dragging himself slowly towards the stairs.

  "I think she mentioned the possibility of pairing me off with some man, and you leapt at the opportunity, having your courier send a message all the way to Berrewithe before dawn had even broken," Nadia sniped back.

  "I work with haste because I haven't got all teh time in the world to assure your future, and the future of my family and estate, is secure," Lord Havenshire rumbled in response. He began to scale the stairwell, one step at a time, each step a monumental task of its own.

  "Father, please, you speak with so much certainty when you say that," Nadia retorted sharply.

  "I speak with certainty because it is a certainty," her father exclaimed. "It is a certainty I will die - whether sooner, or later, and it is a certainty that when I do, my estate - my life, everything - either falls into your hands, or you lose everything; all of the servants lose everything. Do you know how precarious I feel, in this position?" he shuddered as he bounded another step, rain beginning to pour against the windowpanes.

  "Father, have you ever considered my own thoughts and feelings in your calculations about this estate? About the inheritance? When you called me back to England, did that matter to you? What I wanted? Is it so selfish of your daughter to want the freedom that you've always enjoyed, father?" Nadia said, her voice warbling as the seriousness of her father's condition began to set in.