Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady Read online

  Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady

  A Steamy Regency Romance

  Olivia Bennet

  Edited by Maggie Berry

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Also by Olivia Bennet

  About the Author

  About the Book

  For years, Lady Alexandra Abbot has observed others dictate her future, living her life according to societal norms and her father’s indications. Duty-bound to her family, she resigns herself to a loveless marriage of convenience with a man she despises.

  Percy Bradford, the handsome and adventurous Duke of Greenwick, is instantly besotted by the young Lady Alexandra when he meets her for the first time at her sister’s coming-out ball, vowing to himself to woo her before the night is out.

  But fate has other plans and the road to happiness is paved with thorns rather than roses.

  With secrets threatening to destroy their fragile realities and tragedy lurking just around the corner, Percy and Alexandra have to race against time to save their lives and their future.

  For when the clock is ticking, there is a fine line between man and the beast within…

  Chapter 1

  A Betrothal

  “Lady Alexandra, you’re late,” the governess snapped as she hurried into the school room. Alexandra wanted to snap back at her; she had been at sixes and sevens for the past few days and restless in a way that made her feel like taking her sister Magdalene and running. At the same time, she did not want anyone near her, not even Magdalene.

  Instead of answering Miss Catherine, she turned into her seat and settled her frock primly around her. She raised her head in time to catch the tail end of her governess’ glare. There was also a frown on Magdalene’s face as she peered over her shoulder at Alexandra.

  While they were finished with normal schoolroom learning, Miss Catherine had been retained by their father to teach them Greek and Latin, as well as hone their piano playing skills. He believed it would increase their marriage marketability.

  Alexandra grimaced, taking up her notes and getting to work on diction without Miss Catherine having to prompt her. She said nothing about the awful cramps that made her want to curl up in a ball of misery. No doubt Miss Catherine would think she was pitching the gammon for her own ends. She couldn’t imagine what those ends might be, but Miss Catherine always thought they were too ripe and ready by half.

  Once their lessons were done for the day, Magdalene would be free to return to her chambers while Alexandra had just graduated to the sewing circle her grandmother, Cordelia Abbot, the Dowager Countess of Ramsbury, presided over in the drawing room. She sighed, wistful for the days when she, too, could run free and not have to be a prim and proper Lady.

  Her stomach cramped, and she hunched forward in pain.

  “Lady Alexandra!” Miss Catherine called in alarm, “What is going on?”

  “I…” Alexandra moaned, wanting her bed. “I think I need to go and lie down.” Magdalene sprang to her feet, hastening to Alexandra’s side and helping her up.

  “I will take her to her room, Miss Catherine,” Magdalene said.

  “Yes, yes. Do that.” The governess hurried to open the door.

  On one hand, Alexandra was embarrassed about all the fuss. It is not that serious.

  On the other hand, it would get her out of learning the Greek alphabet, a subject she found to be a frightful bore, so she let herself lean ever so weakly into Magdalene’s arms, really playing up her sudden illness which she suspected was merely her monthly malaise.

  Magdalene took her right to her room where her lady’s maid, Constance, was waiting with a hot water bottle and a cloth clutched in her hand.

  Constance tentatively held out the t-shaped piece of cotton. “My Lady, why don’t you put this on and I’ll fetch you some laudanum and a nice cup of tea?”

  “Alright, Constance,” Alexandra said weakly.

  * * *

  Magdalene burst into her room and jumped on her bed. Alexandra groaned in annoyance.

  “Magda, must you be so exuberant so early in the morning?” she asked.

  Her sister just laughed. “My apologies, Xandra. I merely thought to check that you were still breathing in here. You haven’t left your room in three days.”

  Alexandra hesitated to tell Magdalene that she was taking advantage of her debilitation to get out of learning Greek. Her sister was very earnest and honest, and Alexandra had no wish to corrupt her with her nefarious ways.

  “I have been sick as a dog and thought to lie here undisturbed until I should feel better, Magdalene. But of course, you must come along and be a regular out and outer while I am attempting to rest.” She teased instead.

  Magdalene was immediately concerned. “I am so sorry!” She scrambled off Alexandra’s bed. “Are you not feeling any better? Shall I bring you some tea and biscuits? Cook just made some.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear Magda, but no, I am much better today. I should be up and about tomorrow, but in the meantime, I am inclined to lie here and read.”

  “Oh. Alright then. I shall leave you to it.”

  Alexandra’s gaze softened as she stared at Magdalene’s anxious face. Their mother had died in childbirth and Alexandra was the only mother that Magdalene knew. For as long as she could remember, their father had merely been a distant figure to whom they were presented from time to time so that he might see that they were growing into proper young ladies. She reached out and tweaked at Magdalene’s curls.

  “Thank you, Magda...”

  * * *

  The daughters of the Earl of Ramsbury, Alexandra and Magdalene Abbot, led a sheltered existence at Ramsbury Manor–a country house on the River Kennet in the South of England.

  They had one brother, David, the Viscount of Mumford–he was the middle child and the only son. He resided at their Mayfair residence with their father, Lord Harcourt Abbot. Whenever David wasn’t off at Harrow, he stayed at Mayfair, learning how to run the Earldom. Once he’d achieved his majority, he attended and then graduated from Cambridge, David very rarely visited the manor. A true Bond Street Beau, he was a darling of the ton.

  Alexandra was of a shy and quiet nature as far as her father knew. He had waited until David had taken a wife before inviting Alexandra to the city, under the patronage of Lady Mumford’s aunt, The Marchioness of Easton, Lady Bradbury, who was well connected within the ton and received invitations to all the best balls.

  With her pale, slender form and long dark hair, her deep dark eyes and retiring manner, Alexandra had an air of mystery that intrigued many an eligible bachelor. However, that she came with a substantial dowry was merely a feather in the cap. When she met the Duke of Summerhill at one of Lady Easton’s infamous Venetian breakfasts, it was no surprise that she caught his eye, and he wasted no time in calling on the Earl to make an offer.

  Alexandra learned of the offer when she came down to breakfast at Lady Easton’s London house to find her father waiting in the morning room.

  “Good morrow, Father,” she said in surprise, almost forgetting to curtsy. “I was not expecting to see you here.”

  “I have some news, Daughter.” Harcourt ignored her greeting to get right down to business, as was his wont.


  Alexandra dropped into the settee facing him, suddenly feeling weak at the knees. What could her father possibly have to say to her that required seeking her out so unexpectedly?

  “I have received an offer for your hand,” he said without further preamble.

  “Oh,” Alexandra replied, a mixture of relief and disappointment twisting in her bosom. She was relieved that she would no longer need to parade herself around London in the company of Lady Mumford and her aunt. As well-meaning as her sister-in-law, Barbara, might be, she was vapid and prone to prattle on about the latest on-dit.

  Seeing as she had been raised in the country, Alexandra hardly knew whom Barbara was referring to half the time nor did she care. She missed Ramsbury Manor and her sister. Having a gentleman come up to scratch on her behalf simultaneously set her free and shackled her forever.

  She smiled as best she could and nodded. “That is indeed good news, Father.”

  Yes, indeed it would be good news if I were interested in this marriage business. She was careful not to let resentment show on her face.

  “It is indeed. Do not worry your little head about it, I shall make all the arrangements.”

  Of course, he would. When has Father ever sought my opinion on anything affecting my life after all? She tried to quash the rebellious thought even as it flitted across her mind.

  Alexandra got to her feet, “May I go home now? Magdalene needs me.”

  Her father smiled. “Of course, my dear.” He dismissed her with a nod.

  Alexandra heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps she could delay her wedding until her sister had her own coming out. She would do anything to delay losing the only person who was ever concerned for her welfare. She turned to leave.

  “Do you not want to know who your betrothed-to-be is?” her father asked in surprise.

  Alexandra turned back feeling that detail to be entirely irrelevant since she had no choice but wanted to be a dutiful daughter, “Of course, Father.”

  “It is Francis Godwin, the Duke of Summerhill,” her father said with appropriate gravitas, looking extremely pleased with himself.

  “That is wonderful news.” Alexandra tried again to smile. She remembered that her sister-in-law, Lady Mumford, had mentioned the Duke’s name in connection with some scandal or other but could not recall the details. She would be sure to ask Barbara as soon as she got the chance. She took another step toward the door.

  “I do hope you know how fortunate you are to secure a husband so serendipitously,” the Earl said stopping her once again.

  Alexandra sketched a curtsy, “Indeed I do, Father. I am most grateful.” She had to grit her teeth as she said that but was reasonably sure she got the tone just right.

  Her father nodded, satisfied and Alexandra was at last, able to escape. She ran up to her room, intending to write to Magdalene with the news at once. She shared every detail of her life with her sister. This would be no different.

  * * *

  The Marchioness of Easton offered to host the dinner party that would celebrate Alexandra and Francis’ betrothal. Harcourt Abbot was very grateful to her and sent for Magdalene to come to town and join in the festivities. Lady Mumford took it upon herself to make all the plans, being tremendously excited that Alexandra should soon join her in the marital state.

  Alexandra was resigned, perhaps even suffered a fit of the blue devils. But she knew what her duty was, and if she were not married, then Magdalene would not be able to take a husband when her time came. Her father expected her to make him proud, and she was determined not to let him down.

  Nevertheless, she sat by the bay windows in the drawing room watching the stewards exercise the horses, wishing she could saddle one up and just ride away. She closed her eyes, trying to take herself in hand, for soon the Duke of Summerhill would arrive, and he would expect to spend some time with his betrothed–suitably chaperoned by Lady Easton, of course. Alexandra wondered what she could possibly say to him. Perhaps she would offer to play him a tune on the piano or recite a poem in French.

  Yes. That might do.

  The door to the drawing room opened, and her whirlwind of a sister swept in, a broad smile on her face. Merely gazing upon Magdalene’s visage lifted Alexandra’s mood and she smiled back.

  “What breeze are you raising now?” Alexandra was already prepared to be entertained.

  Magdalene popped down on the window seat next to her. “I only wanted to lift you from your sober musings. Are you not excited to meet the Duke, Alexandra?”

  Alexandra sighed long and deep. What could she say to that?

  “I shall do my duty.”

  Magdalene’s face fell. “Are you not happy with the match?”

  Alexandra patted her sister’s hand. “I am content, Sister, pay me no mind. Now go and choose your frock and prepare for dinner before you enter into Lady Easton’s black books.”

  Magdalene scoffed. “I care little for her regard. It is you I am vexed over, you seem a little whey-faced, Sister.”

  Alexander snorted. “What a way to speak to the bride to be!” she said teasingly.

  “Oh, you get my meaning, Xandra. But come, you are the one who should go and get ready. It is your esteemed groom that we shall be receiving after all.”

  Alexandra sighed, standing up and pulling Magdalene up with her. “I am ever so glad you could be with me at this time, Magda.” She said as they headed for the door.

  “There is nowhere I would rather be than by your side,” Magdalene replied.

  They walked out together, heading to their rooms to primp and polish themselves into the perfect society ladies their father expected to appear at the dinner table.

  Alexandra had chosen an azure-blue muslin gown with a square collar hemmed with gold lace and a high waist. It brought out the darkness of her eyes and framed her pale skin most becomingly. She turned this way and that, enjoying the sway of her skirts before she recalled why she was dressed to the nines. Her mood dropped immediately, and she flopped down on the bed with a sigh.

  “Marriage is a good thing,” she told herself softly, “and marrying up, a Duke no less, it’s every Lady’s dream.”

  She waited, trying to feel some spark of happiness or excitement but the stone that seemed to have settled in her stomach did not budge.

  “Fiddlesticks!” she murmured and then stood up. Constance came in clutching a bottle of rouge.

  “May I set a nap on your cheek, My Lady?” she asked already dabbing at the rouge with a piece of cotton. Alexandra sighed, knowing it was useless to turn her away. Constance considered it her sworn duty to make sure her mistress was as well turned out as possible. The girl was always looking out for her, even when Alexandra didn’t want it.

  “‘Tis the curse of my name,” Constance would say with a wide grin. “I am as constant as the rain.”

  “That is not even a real saying,” Alexandra protested.

  “Ah but ‘tis true, is it not?” Constance replied.

  Considering they could hear the drumming of the rain on the roof of the house at that very moment, Alexandra had to concede the point.

  “We shall be late. We should go,” Alexandra got to her feet.

  “Yes, my lady. I shall get your sister, shall I?”

  “Yes please, Constance. Tell her to meet me in the drawing room where Lady Easton will be awaiting us.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Constance sketched a curtsy and then left. With another sigh, Alexandra straightened her skirts and her spine and walked out of the refuge that was her room. She went down the stairs, running her hands against the grained wood, reluctant to reach the bottom. For once she did, she could not hide anymore from what was to happen next. Lady Easton was waiting in the drawing room, and she smiled as soon as she saw Alexandra.

  “You look very well indeed, child,” she intoned, “Your father will be proud.”

  Alexandra merely curtsied without a word.

  * * *

  His Grace Francis Godwin, the Duke of Summerh
ill was accompanied by his bosom companion, Lord Crowley, Marquis of Canterbury.

  “Does he have no family?” Magdalene whispered to Alexandra as the Duke greeted their father.

  “Shush,” Alexandra said and sketched a curtsy as the Duke came to a stop in front of her.

  “Lady Alexandra, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” He said.

  Chapter 2

  Dun Territory

  Walter Bradford was reading quietly in the library when his brother, Percy, burst in from another night of cards and drink at his club.

  He put his book aside and watched his brother stagger toward him. “Percy! Whatever is the matter?”

  “I do believe I am foxed,” Percy slurred.

  “Do you think so?” Walter cocked an eyebrow and snorted. “I should scarce have noticed. So well do you comport yourself.”

  Percy narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Do not tease me, young sir, or I shall call for pistols at dawn.”

  Walter laughed. “Very well, my dear brother. But you should hasten to your bed and sleep this off. Tomorrow is your first day in the House; you do not want to turn up with a terrific headache.”

  Percy nodded slowly. “I believe you are right. Thank you, brother, for your wise words. I will see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  Percy Bradford, the Duke of Greenwick, arduously made his way to the door and up the stairs where his valet was waiting patiently to divest him of his clothing. He had been debauching with his friends at the gaming hells and then winding down the night with a visit to his chère-amie. He could concede that he had perhaps had a little too much port but nothing he could not handle. He had been the duke since the death of his father, seven years ago. But he had only recently graduated from Cambridge and returned to take over the reins from the Trust that ran it while he was away at university.