A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Read online

Emmanuel bowed to her. “Of course, My Lady. We shall do that.” He took Miss Addison’s arm in his and walked her out to the grass, well aware that the two couples at the table were watching their every step, as was every servant within sight. With the sudden quiet, he was very mindful of the distinctive noise his wooden leg made every time the knee was flexed. He dismissed them all from his mind, focusing on Miss Addison and waiting with bated breath to hear what new idiosyncrasy would emerge from her mouth.

  Miss Addison walked quietly by his side, seeming to enjoy the night air. “It’s beautiful here. Do you live here throughout the year?”

  Emmanuel smiled at the compliment. “Thank you on behalf of the gardeners who labor all year round to keep it so. I am more of a country man myself and tend to travel back and forth between Town and my seat in Helmsfield. It is quiet there. I prefer it.”

  She glanced at him and opened her mouth as though to ask an unthinking question. But then she closed it again, brow furrowed in thought. “Why is that?”

  “Why is what?”

  “Why do you prefer the quiet of Helmsfield to the hustle and bustle of London?”

  Emmanuel laughed, quite taken by her diplomacy. Perhaps she was not such a complete child after all. “Well, over there, no one stands on ceremony. The staff have all known me since I was a babe and they are used to my…proclivities.”

  “Proclivities?” Emmanuel was glad to hear that she sounded more curiously interested than afraid.

  “Well, yes. I have a tendency to fling my cravat to the floor as soon as I enter the door at Helmsfield and not give it another thought until I leave. Sometimes, I leave the house without a coat.” He leaned forward as if confiding a great secret, “Some of the staff don’t even call me Your Grace.”

  Miss Addison laughed. “That must be a huge relief to you.”

  “Ah, yes. It can get awkward when the boy who used to show you how to climb trees one-legged is now your steward and is expected to bow every time he leaves your presence.”

  That got another tinkling laugh out of Miss Addison and her hand tightened on his arm. “So, what does he call you?”

  “Mostly idiot. Sometimes fool,” Emmanuel said just to hear that laugh again.

  “He does not, Your Grace, you are a shameless liar.” Her teeth shone in the torchlight as she grinned delightedly up at him, brown eyes alight. That disoriented him for a moment and he almost leaned in to capture her lips with his. Fortunately, he remembered himself in time and inhaled sharply instead.

  “Are you impugning my honor, young lady, by calling me a liar?”

  “Yes, I absolutely am,” she said with robust aplomb, “Now, what does he really call you?”

  Emmanuel grinned at her. “If I tell you, you have to take it to your grave.”

  Miss Addison laughed. “What? But if he calls you by this mythical name, does everyone at your estate not hear him?”

  “Of course not. We never use it if anyone else is around.”

  “Now I am intrigued. You must tell me.”

  Emmanuel just laughed. “I’ll make you a promise, Miss Addison. Once you have become the Duchess of Helmsfield, I shall tell you my secret.”

  Miss Addison pouted prettily at him. “I shall hold you to that, Your Grace. Do not think I will forget.”

  The bubble of happiness that had been floating around in Emmanuel’s chest burst with his joy. “You have my word.”

  * * *

  Lady Gefferton leaned in to whisper in Helen’s ear. “They seem to be getting along well.”

  Helen smiled at her. “They do, don’t they?” Her eyes moved to Lady Gefferton’s husband. “Why does your husband not seem pleased by this development?”

  Lady Gefferton glanced at Lord Gefferton, shaking her head. “I do not know. Isabella is his last daughter. Perhaps he feels a sense of loss at her impending marriage.”

  “Ah.” Helen felt wistful at the thought of having children. She and Edric had not been able to conceive and while they were grief stricken at the loss of Edric’s brother and his dear beloved wife, they were grateful to have a son to raise as a result. “Your children will always be your children, whether they go away and get married or not. I am sure His Grace will always welcome you in his home.”

  Lady Gefferton smiled. “So, you think that he will make an offer?”

  Helen looked at her nephew, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at Miss Addison, who was looking deep into his eyes. “I think we can expect future nuptials from them.” She turned to Lady Gefferton, “Don’t you?”

  They exchanged knowing smiles.

  * * *

  An oppressive silence hung over the carriage on the journey home that Isabella did not understand. She glanced at her mother, asking with her eyes if something was the matter. She got a shake of Diana’s head for her efforts and a wordless plea to hush. Clearly her father was in one of his moods.

  It was a trifle annoying because Isabella was very eager to discuss the dinner party, and when exactly they could invite the Duke for a return visit. She sighed inwardly, knowing that her mother would make time, perhaps in the morning, to talk about it all.

  It was hard to contain her excitement but somehow, she held it in until they were home. Her father bowed to them at the bottom of the stairs and bade them good evening before continuing on to his study as Isabella and her mother climbed the stairs to bed.

  “He reads, Mother!” Isabella burst out, unable to hold it in for a moment more.

  “Well, of course he does. He has a degree from Cambridge. I expect he had to be able to read and write to be admitted.”

  Isabella slapped her mother’s arm lightly. “Oh, Mother. You know what I mean. He has many books and he promised me that when I go and visit him in Helmsfield he shall show me his library.”

  “When you go and visit? Hmm, did he invite you already?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mother. He wouldn’t do that without asking you first. But of course we shall go, shan’t we?” Isabella clutched her mother’s arm, daring her to say no. Diana merely laughed. “Well, you are singing a different tune now aren’t you, my girl? His Grace is not as hideous as you expected?”

  “He’s not hideous at all, Mother. He’s amusing and kind and he listens to me.” Isabella did a little skip. “I think we shall get on very well.”

  Lady Gefferton smiled. “Well, that is a relief. I was beginning to think you should never find anyone with whom you could get on.”

  “Oh, Mother, you’re so dramatic! You should join a play on Drury Lane.”

  “I just might at that,” her mother said, doing a tiny twirl on the landing, “Am I not the picture of grace and beauty?”

  Isabella laughed. “Of course you are, Mother. Now I shall bid you goodnight, Sarah Siddons, and allow you to go and practice for your first foray on the stage.”

  Diana hummed a ditty. “I shall do that. Sleep well, my love.”

  “Good night, Mother.”

  * * *

  There was a letter waiting for Isabella on the breakfast tray the next morning.

  My dearest Miss Addison,

  Forgive me for my forwardness in writing to you in this manner. I felt I could not rest until I had put my thoughts to paper, and conveyed them to you. I want to thank you sincerely for your company last evening. I must say that I have rarely enjoyed the company of anyone as much as I enjoyed yours.

  I look forward to speaking with you again, soon, and hope to invite you down to Helmsfield as promised. I wish to show you the extensive gardens of my estate, and the lake at the bottom of the garden, that is not manmade. I have a boat that I take on the water, often times in the early mornings, and do some fishing when the mist has yet to lift from the air and the dew is on the grass. It is the quietest time of day, where I can catch my breakfast and watch the sun come up over the water.

  After I have caught some fish, I have it for breakfast, fried over an open flame. It is a beautiful way to begin the day. You are likely not in
terested in any of this, but I do assure you that with a warm shawl upon your shoulders it is a conducive environment for reading.

  Thank you for reading my ramblings. I am your most humble servant.

  Emmanuel, Duke of Helmsfield

  Isabella sighed, eyes closed, holding the letter to her chest.

  “Is something the matter?”

  Isabella looked up to see her mother watching her with concern. “Absolutely nothing. The Duke has written to me.”

  Diana came to sit by her side as a servant poured ale into her glass. “What did he say?”

  Isabella smiled. “Oh, Mother, you know that’s private.”

  “Private? Are you already sending love letters, my dear?”

  “You could say that. He was telling me about his estate and wanting to show it to me.”

  “That’s very sweet.”

  “It is. I have never had a gentleman write to me in this way. The way that he describes his estate…” Isabella shook her head wonderingly, “It’s beautiful.”

  “You always did like the written word.”

  “Indeed I did.”

  Mother and daughter smiled at each other.

  * * *

  George Chandler, Lord Gefferton’s steward, stepped into his office, closing the door behind him.

  “My Lord, I have heard some disturbing news about your daughter’s impending nuptials.”

  Lord Gefferton did not look up. “Have you? And what is it that you have heard?”

  “His Grace, the Duke of Helmsfield is to be her intended?”

  Lord Gefferton put down his quill and leaned back in his chair. “He has yet to make an offer.”

  “But he will?”

  Lord Gefferton looked away. “I think so.”

  “My Lord, this might not be the best idea.”

  “Do you not think I don’t know that?”

  “So what will you do about it?”

  Lord Gefferton shook his head. “I do not know yet. Her mother made arrangements without speaking with me first and now things have been set in motion. I cannot stop them without a valid reason.”

  “The man has a peg leg. Is that not reason enough?”

  “Normally, yes. With any of my other daughters, I might have turned the tide on that alone. But my Isabella,” Lord Gefferton shook his head ruefully, “she fills her own head with stories of pirates and monsters. A peg leg will not faze her.”

  “Well then…you will have to make sure that—”

  “I well know what I have to make sure of, Chandler. You do not need to speak about it in this house.”

  Chandler narrowed his eyes. “You know what’s at stake, Gefferton.”

  “I do know, and I do not need you to remind me, thank you.”

  The man huffed in annoyance, turned on his heel and left.

  * * *

  “Good morning, Nephew.”

  Emmanuel looked up from his breakfast. “Aunt. You are up quite early.”

  Lady Edric smiled. “Well, I feel quite energized today. That was an excellent dinner last night, wasn’t it?”

  Emmanuel smirked, putting down the newspaper he was reading and leaning forward to look his aunt in the eye. “I concede, Aunt. You were right. I was wrong.”

  Lady Edric beamed. “And so? Will you make her an offer?”

  Emmanuel sighed. “I do not think we are ready for that yet. But I do look forward to seeing her again soon.”

  “Yes, well, it is the Season, perhaps we can take part in some events.”

  “Is that really necessary? You hosted a lovely dinner party last night. Why can’t we do more of that?”

  The smile on his aunt’s face lit up the room. “I can arrange a few more if that is your desire but it would be good to be seen out and about in public. Is it really so hard to socialize? We can go to the Assembly Rooms at Almack’s next Wednesday. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  Emmanuel sighed. “There is usually such a press of people.”

  “Well…I suppose we can arrange a few dance parties of our own. But you must promise me that we will attend at least one hosted by someone else.”

  Emmanuel put a hand to his heart, a smile on his face. “I promise.”

  “That is all I ask.”

  Emmanuel shook his head at his aunt, knowing she was taking full advantage of his soft headedness to persuade him to mingle with the ton. He did not mind. His aunt had been trying for years to get him to be more sociable. If it meant spending more time with the lovely Isabella Addison, he would suffer through the asinine talk, the bad food, and the press of people.

  Soon though, he would invite the Geffertons to Helmsfield, perhaps for a week’s visit, and if they were able to get along, then he would make an offer at the end of the visit.

  It was a perfect plan and he could not wait to execute it.

  Chapter 5

  Dancing Queen

  For the ton, it was just another Wednesday dinner and ball at Almack’s. Furthermore, since it was almost April and the London season was just beginning, the famed Assembly Rooms were quite busy.

  Miss Isabella Addison did not care about any of those things, because for her, the evening was full of anticipation.

  It had been at least four years since attending a ball at Almack’s meant anything to her. However, tonight, she was to meet with her intended, and it all seemed new and exciting again.

  Isabella had been looking forward to tonight so much she had even written to her sister Sarah about it. They had been fast friends as children, being the closest in age, but growing up their interests had diverged, especially after Sarah’s coming out.

  The last time they had been together, they had gotten into quite a row. Sarah was of the opinion that Isabella was ruining the family’s reputation with her bluestocking tendencies and that she should choose a man and settle down. Isabella had made up her mind then to limit their acquaintance, but in her enthusiasm about going to Almack’s again, she had reached out to her sister.

  The Duke of Helmsfield had promised her that they would dance tonight.

  Isabella smoothed down her gown, and then picked up her fan. It was difficult to stand still when it felt as though her every nerve was vibrating. She looked around for her mother but she had lost her in the supper room. Now she was just waiting for the Duke to appear.

  Flicking her fan open, Isabella gazed sweepingly across the ballroom, her face carefully schooled in polite interest. Excited as she was, she would be mortified if she did something as garish as gawk.

  The Duke of Wallington brushed past just to her left and she moved quickly out of his way. They had not been introduced and so she did not greet him. She was surprised when he nodded politely to her as he passed.

  The first dance began and Isabella stayed in her spot, watching the haut ton move through the steps of the Scottish reel. The second dance went by, then the third, without any sign of the Duke.

  She nodded to Lady McKinnon who came over with a smile and took her hand. She led her to a group of people, making some introductions—even to such a distinguished gentleman as the heir to the Duke of Aston, who asked her to dance.

  Although it was enjoyable to observe the ton in their natural habitat, a dance had been promised to Isabella and she did not succumb quietly into the role of a wallflower. Thus, she set out to find the Duke in the crowd.

  As she sauntered from one side of the ballroom to the other, she was chagrined to find her father in the company of Lords Carrington and Mayhew, neither of whom Isabella much cared for and both of whom had proposed and been turned down by her.

  She hesitated there for a moment, the unexpected presence of the two Lords serving as a deterrent for approaching her father as she might have otherwise.

  Moreover, hovering as she was, still undecided, she came to overhear the three gentlemen’s conversation.

  “Look at that,” Lord Carrington said to his companions, his lips curling in distaste. “I fear our patronesses of Almack’s are growing very
lax these days. You would think that with his sometimes dangerous eccentricities Helmsfield’s voucher would have been revoked?”

  Mayhew shrugged. “I expect his dukedom has something to do with it and that dotty uncle of his, Lord Edric, taking the disgraced sod under his wing. You know his wife is a favorite of the ton. And as the patronesses of Almack’s are only women, I suspect they are soft at heart and may find his tragic story heroic.” He sneered as he said the last part and they all laughed.